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]
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....
Monday, 4 August 2008
Saturday, 2 August 2008
My Friend's New Husband
'...this beautiful white-haired man
who's been sharing my bed.'
I was one of the first to know.
Initially it was their sweet secret.
(I understood, was the same
when my own lovely white-haired man....)
They’d known each other long before
their respective widowhoods,
but this new joy was sudden.
'Do you think he loves me?' she asked.
'Have you seen the way he looks at you?' I said.
[Poem #34]
who's been sharing my bed.'
I was one of the first to know.
Initially it was their sweet secret.
(I understood, was the same
when my own lovely white-haired man....)
They’d known each other long before
their respective widowhoods,
but this new joy was sudden.
'Do you think he loves me?' she asked.
'Have you seen the way he looks at you?' I said.
[Poem #34]
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]
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