October 15, 2007

  • The Writer

    In the corner silently speaking

    Peering past the panel toward outside

    I lose myself in relative darkness

     

    I see the ladies, through my mind’s eye, peeking

    Cute and careful, beaming brides

    Smiles slide down their dresses.

     

    The men in line behind for coffee drinking

    Are honest, varied, many sides of pride

    Their appearances confess.

     

    And this I know, I know what they are feeling

    I close my eyes to open theirs wide

    My fiction more real than theirs, or ‘least no less

     

    I smile (down my dress) at such détente

    Then it leaves me, alone, and filled with want.

     

     

Comments (2)

  • I like the use of the word detente in the last stanza: sophisticated and full of meaning. The poem seems like an experiment of sorts; kind of like asking yourself if you are thinking what you think you are thinking.....an existential reflection to verify the lack of depth in the world. I enjoyed the poem. MB

  • Thanks.  I was a little disappointed that no one had commented until you came along, cause I kind of liked the poem.  And you alude to a deeper meaning than perhaps I was aware, an inferrence as to the shallowness in the lives of people getting coffee? pretending to be important, or something other that what they are.  On the surface it was, for me, about connecting with others, doing what the writer does which is to understand people, and thereby becoming more than just oneself, the all, Godlike.  But although I can imagine what if feels like to be another, in the end, I can only live my own life, and what I imagine about them may not even be true, though no less true, perhaps, than what they think of themselves.  Funny, cause the detente is a bit God like, a union of souls, and yet I suggest that perhaps none of us really "know ourselves" which is another common measure of spirituality. 

    You've got me thinking here, M.

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