Let me preface this by saying I am not a poet and I’m sure the line structures will be terrible because I’m not very experienced at this form of writing. But here goes…
I drop your letter to me.
Floating beneath smoke swirls to the floor
next to the poems and letters of another man.
The window is open, night coming,
Dave Mason singing, “Eyes that tell a story,
sad and deep as you.”
And that other man asked me if I had taken a lover.
My mind reached for you
only you, always you.
I laughed.
Something reminded me of you the other day,
I told you and you signed Love Always.
Always, always, always–one day.
Until then…
The artist? Cuba?
I’ll take a lover.
The real estate broker, the screenwriter.
He doesn’t believe in death, I don’t believe in life.
We are perfect for each other in a space where God doesn’t exist.
But where He does…
something reminded me of you.
Rainer Maria Rilke once wrote, “Love poems are the hardest poems to write,” or something like that, (he said it much more verdantly and with a great deal more added to it) in “Letters to a Young Poet.” But I think you have written a good one, especially, as the consensus seems to be, in those last few lines. There is a broad canyon within those narrow words which will open up for anyone that wishes to look.
I just read the 1st letter–really beautiful. It is so hard to veer from that tendency to seek the approval of others with one’s writing. I think it’s a bit of that if a tree falls in the forest and no one’s around to hear the sound thing–if only you like what you wrote, is it still good? Of course, in the end I think only what the writer thinks matters but still it is tempting to seek the approval.
Beautiful letters. Thanks concordant for posting that link. I liked this:
“There is only one thing you should do. Go into yourself. Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depths of your heart; confess to yourself whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write. This most of all: ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write?”
It’s natural to want approval, and pretty much impossible to resist wanting it. But a writer writes to write. I think we create because, as human beings, we’re creators and that’s what we do, whether it’s writing, painting, sculpting, or even the supposed mundane things we do in our day-to-day lives. Creativity, rather than being a means to an end, is an end in and of itself. It is – when all is said and done – all that there is. If our creativity meets with approval, that’s just a nice secondary consequence, but a secondary one all the same.
What a nice thing to say! Who’s it about–an ex and a new guy who now means a bit more to me than at the writing of the poem, and God thrown into the mix.
Hmm…trying to provoke me Colinsign? I assure you I do get angry–haven’t you heard, us redheads have fiery tempers? But if all that registers as real or relevant emotion to you is hate and anger then I feel bad for you.
Almost every love poem I read seems to be written in the same way…the same manner…the same tone…as though love wasj ust some big homogenous feeling…one entity with no differences…
Perhaps my love is just sheltered beneath my continual provocation!
I don’t simply relate to hate - not at all - I guess I just think love can be quite insincere and I wonder where all the angry people are that make this world so bitter and skewed?
Ah, I think I get you–if the world is so bitter and screwed up, how can all these people be feeling loving and sentimental all the time? You’ve got a point there. I guess many written emotions regarding love are insincere and many love poems do sound the same. The only thing I can say is that I try to say exactly what I mean as often as possible and hope that with time my poetry will improve so as to show all the variations of human emotion.
