I enjoy our times together-
Except for the smoking
But the people I love are more
Than the sum of the things they do
To feel alive
We will breathe it together
I will cling to what I love
And I keep a clean shirt in the truck
At least you know what you long for
And know some sense of satisfaction
For the moment
And unlike me
You are not clueless what will
Take your always frail
surprisingly deep voice
From the rest of us
I wonder what thing that brings me comfort
Is slowly killing me
And if I will have willpower enough
To embrace intellect over feeling
You've gotten so skinny
Offering me your meals on wheels
You've frozen that should have been eaten
No excuse is good enough for you
We need you
Even if your students never call
Even if absence points to the contradiction
No one is expendable
And I have learned to live on small snips
Of offered soul
And I lean heavily upon you
The way you quit offering suggestions
Slowly wagging your head
"You have such a gift with words, Ben..."
As you talk I watch the blue smoke rise
Into the lampshade, but never come out
Maybe the light changes it
Light does unnerving things like that
You cackle, bouncing an inch of ash in pouting lip
I wish I had a picture of you like that
Maybe cross one eye a bit like you are drunk
Crooked hair, bathrobe
Squint and point a long finger toward the camera
Maybe it magnetized to the fridge
Would break mesmerization
Make you more human
And less of the pearl
You've become
A contest entry
- Poetry As Ashes by CarolDesjarlais.
1400 points, ended September 29, 13 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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Yes, this is good. very good. Two hearts are seen here, blameless and true.
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Beautiful, Brother Ben, simply beautiful.
I loved the characterization of both poet and professor. You did well to capture the fleetingness of all things in contradiction to the ever expanding, precious soul.
Love
Myra
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Thank you... He is also my brother in law. Well, his mother raised her nieces, my wife and her sister. My wife was orphaned. I have shown him my work for years; he retired nearly 20 years ago. He has always told me not to stop writing. He asked me to write his obituary once 2 years ago which i did. He liked it. This might be more fitting. He has emphysema. Never married. I snuk this piece in with several others and watched him as I read it. He reached for it, wordless. His eyes are bad, despite 2 surgeries. He poured over it; nodding slowly. He said he didn''t know what to say... "You don't have to say anything... I had Idol instead of "Pearl" at first. He didn't like it. "It implies worship, ben..." Been missing you. Hope all is well.
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Thank you for giving me insight into a most wondrous poem.
All is well. I am struggling to become myself after a trying year, but God is great. Being stripped is a step nearer to Home.
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Oh, nicely done far-edged piece. Funny how students fall in lvoe with their profs, like litle bros to sister's friends and visa versa... I have a few I count as friends forever, indeed. Bless the Prof who does not fall for it though. I have seen that as well and it is excruciating.
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This is lovely. Is it not astonishing how close we become to those who are soon to leave us? Is it us, or is it that they reach out so in their last days? I love the way you see the teacher.
Love,
C
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He doesn't ask for anything. Told me, he was afraid there was no one left who really lovd him...
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