I did psychic readings at Sunday markets approx. 1995 to late 2013.
A good, round face,
A good, round face,
a smile,
brown hair cropped close
(just beginning to recede),
bright, round eyes,
direct gaze,
frankness,
frankness,
ready understanding,
tears and laughter when
he speaks of his dead Mum.…
Good things,
but none explains —
nor even all together —
why I like him so much
and trust the liking.
Is it that indefinable, his energy?
Perhaps it’s the warmth,
or his insight,
or the way this kind, brave man
believes himself ordinary.
[Poem #103]
A double posting. This appeared at my Stones for the River blog yesterday. I realised that, with only a little expansion, it could become one of my Verse Portraits (with the same number of words as years of my age: 74 at present). As they are collected here, this has to be here too.
believes himself ordinary.
[Poem #103]
A double posting. This appeared at my Stones for the River blog yesterday. I realised that, with only a little expansion, it could become one of my Verse Portraits (with the same number of words as years of my age: 74 at present). As they are collected here, this has to be here too.
Comments at original posting:
ReplyDeleteSherry Blue Sky 15 July 2014 at 13:08
I most love people who think they are "just ordinary" and who are so completely wonderful. I interview them all the time. This is a beautiful capture, Rosemary. I, too, like this "kind brave man" very much!
Rosemary Nissen-Wade 15 July 2014 at 16:12
I must have managed to convey something of him, then. I'm glad.