Getting up close (very) to the centre of a lily…
RISKY BUSINESS
I knew it was risky; I wouldn’t be able to keep away
Like a junkie, standing at the window, an outsider
Needing to use, to be part of, my body craved the paint
The way an addict craves the juice—don’t ask me
How I know—I know—I have, I guess you could say
Intimate knowledge, and it is fearsome, this craving
This ache to take up the brush again, after so long
Every minute I spent there, not walking away
Just staring at the tubes of colour—magnolia, viridian
carnelian—and fresh white spotless canvases, displayed
Laid out like stretchers as if placed there just for me—
Carried me closer to going on one of my sprees
And deny as I might—and believe me, there was some
Desperate denying dancing around inside my head—
I could still leave anytime—really, just turn on
My heel and go—some part of me knew
That my reserves were eking away and once gone
So would I be—gone that is—lost to the god of art
Again.
AS ALWAYS, IT’S YOU
“Sometimes late at night I lie awake and watch him sleeping…and the thought crosses my mind if I never wake up in the morning, would he ever doubt the way I feel about him in my heart…”
Garth Brooks
Remember how cold it was in that cabin where we first cemented
Our marriage – no running water – and the lake frozen to the bottom
But inside, we were as warm as any tropical island, melting snow
On the pot-bellied stove and burning firewood like there was no end
To it, or to us – how many well-meaning friends and family said,
“It’ll never last – you’re too different – you fight too much – he’s too
moody – you’re too sensitive –” and on and on, seeming to miss
The part where we went out for five years before we finally wed.
Here we are, four decades later, and still, my heart skips when you
Enter a room, our eyes meet; you hold my hand when we walk and
You automatically walk on the outside, nearest the cars; still, you rise
If I leave a dinner table and return; your impeccable manners have always
Made me feel so cherished, special, well-loved – and made you a hard
Act to follow, for our daughters, when they were selecting life-mates
And that’s not a bad thing – as we well know – they chose admirably
Some might think, after all this time, our love would be a given
A mostly silent thing – and I guess it could be – and that would be fine
But you, not usually given to demonstrative shows of affection
Ask me every day if I know you love me… You bring me flowers,
Spring blossoms that fill the house with colour, and the scent of April
And May – you bring them during the sub-zero weeks of February
Or when January winds blow snow drifts thickly – you bring them then
More and more as we get older, I can’t help wondering if you know
How much I love you too – it’s harder for me, the so-called sensitive
One to let you know just how treasured you are, and sometimes I find
Myself almost at a complete loss to express just what it is between us
I am amazed to reach for the poetic side of me and find instead this
Awkward, bumbling soul who feels inadequate to the task of saying
The simplest sentiment of all – I love you – I have always loved you
I will always love you as long as I draw breath, even if you stop breathing.
There – it’s not poetry but it is truth – it will have to do.
BULLY BAIT
Even birth by soft candlelight
Can’t hide insecurities that take root
Imaginary slights inherited
As surely as facial features
Scurry through doors left ajar
Naked distrust and paranoia
Hide under too-sensitive skin
Take hold there where for some
Tough is found lacking
Right from the get-go…
LITTLE BROTHER
So many things about you bothered me
In ways of which I could not bring myself to look
Guessing, I suppose, in my naïveté and youth
That to peer directly at such a wounded soul
Would only serve to spread such poison,
Infecting me as well.
Still, sad recurrent secrets, accidentally
Overheard in the fissures of the night
When you’d so often waken screaming,
Wild and terrified
And Mom would rock you and ssh you
And sing nonsense lullabies to try
And soothe you back to sleep
Must have over-flown the banks of your reality
Those dark, purple bruises of your psyche
Likely seeped into mine
Or perhaps, because we grew so very close,
I absorbed your private hell by osmosis
I know only, my own deepest self bears ugly,
Wicked scars, belonging more to you than me
And even after some well-meant but paltry efforts,
The most I had to offer way back when
There was no escaping, not for either one of us.
PUTTING YOU DOWN
How hard
would it be
I wondered when I
thought about having to finally
put you down, something I’d tried
all our lives to keep from happening
And now I held you in my own arms
as you lay there in your bag of ashes
trying to ready myself to put you down for good
BEYOND THE DARK ROOM – An Anthology of Poems for Everyone
Am adding my kudos to the other reviewers for this unique anthology of poems dealing with some of the more difficult experiences many, if not most of us, encounter at some point during our lives, and the variety of ways we’ve found to deal or are still dealing with same. With topics as diverse as depression, anger, abuses of all kinds, unimaginable tragedy, bullying – to name a few – the twenty-one poets from points around the planet – talk candidly and poetically about this kind of pain. As it would be if one emerged “Beyond the Dark Room” work is also included about what it is like to come out the other side— to endure— when one might feel: calm, empowered, confidence, trust. As one of the poets included in this compilation, I cannot help but be impressed by the courage my fellow poets have demonstrated; it is matched only by the quality of their work, and I am humbled to be in their company. Special thanks to editor Dr. Pearl Ketover Prilik, our guiding light and a personal inspiration.
