Forty years all but one day
older than me.
Soft fat woman,
voice like honey.
Lying gowned in flowing purple
one liqueur chocolate
in smooth fingertips.
Musk and lavender wafting
from a cushiony bosom.
A yielding cheek for kisses.
Her garden had swings
and winding paths,
nooks for hide-and-seek
among rhododendrons.
Gave me '18 Poems
by Dylan Thomas'
one shared birthday –
1962, my 23rd. I have it still.
[Poem #67]
This began as a game some bloggers played in 2008, to write about people who'd made an impact, in the same number of words as one's age, every day for a year. I did them less often and went on longer, adding one word each birthday. I stopped in 2016 and incorporated them into my main poetry blog. In 2019 I resumed the project and gave it its own blog again, with a new name, where it may unfold at its own (slow, intermittent, lapsing and resuming) pace. I've labelled these verse portraits, but they're more like quick sketches: mere glimpses, impressions....
Showing posts with label TEACHERS AND MENTORS. Show all posts
Showing posts with label TEACHERS AND MENTORS. Show all posts
Tuesday, 7 April 2009
Thursday, 28 August 2008
Patron
You watched over me.
Adults were trustworthy then.
I liked our conversation, still do;
realised only slowly
others didn’t perceive you.
When I was 43, a magician friend
introduced me to his mentor.
You! So I learned
your name and identity.
Giver of writing, patron of poets,
great magician yourself.
And my friend; somewhat fatherly.
I’m told you are most correctly
named Tehuti, but I call you Thoth.
[Poem #52]
Adults were trustworthy then.
I liked our conversation, still do;
realised only slowly
others didn’t perceive you.
When I was 43, a magician friend
introduced me to his mentor.
You! So I learned
your name and identity.
Giver of writing, patron of poets,
great magician yourself.
And my friend; somewhat fatherly.
I’m told you are most correctly
named Tehuti, but I call you Thoth.
[Poem #52]
Monday, 4 August 2008
Ex-pat
My friend is home
after years away, years
of sudden phone-calls:
long calls, frequent, filled
with insight and strange
esoteric knowledge.
(Eventually, opinion
catches up with him.
Before that, most people
find him confronting.
But he’s here to love,
and share his wisdom.)
At our first meeting
he enjoyed my candy-striped
sneakers, my socks
with the rainbow swirls.
'That’s so cool,' he said,
laughing, in his rumbling voice.
[Poem #35]
after years away, years
of sudden phone-calls:
long calls, frequent, filled
with insight and strange
esoteric knowledge.
(Eventually, opinion
catches up with him.
Before that, most people
find him confronting.
But he’s here to love,
and share his wisdom.)
At our first meeting
he enjoyed my candy-striped
sneakers, my socks
with the rainbow swirls.
'That’s so cool,' he said,
laughing, in his rumbling voice.
[Poem #35]
Friday, 1 August 2008
Ariadne
You met me in the glade,
dressed in pale silk
blue and flowing.
Your hair fell down your back
as golden as the sunlight
that lit you from behind.
You walked towards me
slow and smiling.
Recalling your story later
I thought I understood
why it was you who came
and why you welcomed me.
Weaver with your thread,
you too were betrayed.
Yet you smile, you’re strong.
[Poem #33]
dressed in pale silk
blue and flowing.
Your hair fell down your back
as golden as the sunlight
that lit you from behind.
You walked towards me
slow and smiling.
Recalling your story later
I thought I understood
why it was you who came
and why you welcomed me.
Weaver with your thread,
you too were betrayed.
Yet you smile, you’re strong.
[Poem #33]
Monday, 28 July 2008
Full Circle
When you started
on your path of healing
thirteen years ago,
I taught you Reiki, Level One.
Pretty little woman,
you looked nervous, held in.
It was grief you were holding
for the end of your marriage.
This weekend
you taught me Theta Healing
in the comfortable home
of your present love.
(Met him dancing rock'n'roll.)
Every year you look
younger, prettier, lighter,
your real self more revealed.
[Poem #29]
on your path of healing
thirteen years ago,
I taught you Reiki, Level One.
Pretty little woman,
you looked nervous, held in.
It was grief you were holding
for the end of your marriage.
This weekend
you taught me Theta Healing
in the comfortable home
of your present love.
(Met him dancing rock'n'roll.)
Every year you look
younger, prettier, lighter,
your real self more revealed.
[Poem #29]
Friday, 11 July 2008
At the Place of Tall Gums
You came chasing rumours:
a Reiki Master
out back of Pumpenbil.
Missed the famous one;
wrong house.
Found me.
Your frail friend
was deathly sick. We gave her
another decade, it transpired.
Always allies, we added
Reiki and magick
to your Youth Centre.
I left the hill. You sold
your corner cottage, moved
interstate to your daughter.
Where are you now,
what are you doing?
I miss you.
[Poem #13]
a Reiki Master
out back of Pumpenbil.
Missed the famous one;
wrong house.
Found me.
Your frail friend
was deathly sick. We gave her
another decade, it transpired.
Always allies, we added
Reiki and magick
to your Youth Centre.
I left the hill. You sold
your corner cottage, moved
interstate to your daughter.
Where are you now,
what are you doing?
I miss you.
[Poem #13]
Friday, 4 July 2008
Mentor
Years after
you'd been the bluff neighbour,
I encountered you
in a Geelong café.
I’d just done a prison visit,
a poetry workshop.
You said you could tell
I’d been somewhere very sad.
You were sad yourself —
marriage broken, job lost —
but you’d found
certain compensations:
a singing talent
finally expressed,
and psychic gifts.
You became my friend,
my teacher:
a great magician
I understood after you died.
[Poem #6]
you'd been the bluff neighbour,
I encountered you
in a Geelong café.
I’d just done a prison visit,
a poetry workshop.
You said you could tell
I’d been somewhere very sad.
You were sad yourself —
marriage broken, job lost —
but you’d found
certain compensations:
a singing talent
finally expressed,
and psychic gifts.
You became my friend,
my teacher:
a great magician
I understood after you died.
[Poem #6]
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