by Gregg Rowe
neon blue lights
illuminated St. Catherine
disturbed the pitch of darkness
in the early
September morning chill
i tried to avoid
his deep-dark chestnut eyes
as we stood outside
Dunkin' Doughnuts
his mouth twitched,
as he held back,
what...?
feelings? tears?
and i shuffled my feet
on the wet-fog
cement sidewalk,
gravel granites
beneath my soul
i have fallen in love
with his long
dark Brazilian lashes
and half-moon curved
eyebrows
that intrigued everyone
as they passed us by
his hand reached
for the orange
Volkswagen door
as it puttered
by the neon blue curb
he hesitated and came back
to face me
his back to the window
of Dunkin'Doughnuts
i wanted to run
my hands through
his auburn hair
and trace my fingertips
against his young face
but i stopped myself
and thoughts of the summer nights
after we had showered:
he laid sprawled on his back
just waiting for me,
after, we napped
on his father's feather comforter
snuggled like jigsaw
puzzle pieces
we joined together
one final time
and he stepped aside
in his black rain coat
wrapped around him
tightly for protection
in a swift motion
his spread his arms
for a final farewell
to memorable Montréal
like an eagle
preparing itself for flight
rains soaked my face
and mingled with my tears
as i stood alone and hoped
there was no neon lights in Brazil
tear-stained window of
Dunkin' Doughnuts as
customers sat huddled
and stared with empty eyes
over semi-steamed cups of coffee
behind me
i saw in the reflection
of the drenched
wet window
exhaust fumes rising to meet
neon blue lights
that illuminated St. Catherine
disturbed the pitch of darkness
in the early
September morning chill
a photograph later
a postcard from Brazil
a year later
he phoned me
i sat on my wooden
kitchen stool
spoke into the red receiver
while he told me he was
coming
i was excited
wondered if he still had auburn hair
i was anxious
to roam on a feather comforter
for hours
before finally drifting to
dreamland
i was urning
to clink crystal together
full of sweet white wine
that was in September
and now it's Christmas
no other photograph
no other postcard,
and no other phone call
disturbing my pitch of darkness
in the early morning chill
i sit in the doctor's waiting room
reading Time's
'Special Report:
The Terminal Disease'
read and compared
computer viruses
and the human body
i have not heard from him
it really doesn't matter today
since
I've discovered I'm dying
Author notes
For Arthur: I still think of you and Vivian after all these years, hope Brazil has been good to you.
Stoned Lonely Man on St. Catherine Street (2001)
Oil on Canvas 18 x 20
Gregg Rowe
Collection: Gregg Rowe
Written December 4th, 2001
In a list
A contest entry
- Help me relieve my Bank-holiday Boredom by Karen Michelle.
300 points, ended May 13, 2005, 7 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Pleasure and Pain by Shadow Cat 1990.
500 points, ended December 26, 2006, 48 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 17 of 17
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Best of luck in the contest
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Very saddening, and packed full with excellent imagery, particularly that of the streets and city and the 'neon blue lights'. I love the opening paragraph - it sets the scene wonderfully. Nicely written, well done.
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Wow! You di an excellent job writing this!!!!!! When I read the end I had to pick up my jaw off the floor. I also love the whole neaon blue lights thing. You really put so many emotions in here and you used great imagery. It all had me reading on to see what you had to say next. You did an awesome job on both poems. Thank you so much for entering my contest and also thank you for being so patient. I really appreciate it
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Invisible09: I don't think so, the contest is called Journey and it is one man's journey about dealing with an illness now that his significant other/lover left him to deal with his battles alone. Gregg
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did you enter the wrong contest? this was an odd poem. there was so much symbolism. the ending. wow. that wrenched my feelings. it was such a powerful ending. it was a beautiful poem too. was the man taking a journey? this was really interesting.
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Thank you so much for being patient with my comment, I’ve been baby… er… puppy sitting, and it takes up a lot of my time, lol. This poem makes me want to cry ;_; ... which is a good thing, a great thing actually. I can tell I'm going to have trouble judging this contest, lol. You did a great job, you are very talented, keep up the good work and thanks for entering my contest!
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Sad poem. Dying. I am still kicking my death throes out. I must be in slow motion or something because it is taking forever. Love broke my kneecaps years ago. I never called again.
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Excellent Write/Read
As Maureen said, we are all dying, slowly but surely. Your poem reads like a story straight out of a novel, a bestseller if you will. Your words kept my eyes locked to my ocmputer screen. However I was very sad to read the end of the story. I was hoping that he would come back and you would be again locked in each others arms in that feathery comforter. But that was not to be. This was a very deep and profound write. It was stunning. Avril
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This is a great poem, Gregg.....sensual, but sad. Love the thought of running hands through auburn hair. Hate the thought of not hearing from him.....and it not mattering.
Thank you for your wonderful comment on my poem on Mirror Mirror.... I really appreciated it. Cheryl
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This piece gave me chills, the emotions playing throughout the story, almost overwhelmed me as I read this. I can feel the tears, the nervousness and disbelief, perhaps it's more from your energy than the poem itself, either way this one really impacted me as I read it. Takes my breath away
Blessings, Gypsy
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POWERFUL
SUCH POWER! truth is like that, huh? the beautiful boy and the dying girl... I pray for you both. r -
ooh this is such a sweet and sad poem with wonderful descriptive imagery....
you are talented, keep writing!!! thanks for sharing this beautiful and heartfelt piece.
~Autumn
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my favorite line was: to dance on the fog of day
I love the lines but where do they appear in the poem, but a beautiful line that would fit perfectly if I may have your permission to use it I will find a place for it. -
a poignant brillant write of love and loss....
my favorite line was: to dance on the fog of day
you write of great essence in power and emotion
may your journey be blessed
Tamara
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Dramatic and Very Sad! Well done! Reads like a novel you can't put down! We are all dying, hopefully, slowly. I would advise anyone who has been told they have a "terminal" illness to find out all they can about the illness..where there's life, there's hope! Good Luck in the contest and in your life!
(((Hugs)))
<3 Maureen
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when love is vibrant it paints a picture that we hang in the corners of our minds, and we often view ith with melancholy
long after the love has faded, and even when we face death a virulant force that steals our breath just as much as love once did, it is then we study the picture even more, and cling to the soft strokes and gentle pastels that created it long ago....very lovely and sad poem, I wish you healing,remissin, and many more years to pen your dreams.....Artis -
Beautiful picture~
It does set the tone for the write~
Would look awesome in the office I work~
Cannot help but look and want to reach out~
~touch the face~
...Very powerful words my friend~
Very~
Best wishes to you in the contest~
Big hugs and much love~Desire
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