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Open Poetry #13
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The Fire
| Open Poetry #13 |
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The Fire |
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Wilfred Yeats Member Elite
since 2000-08-04
Posts 2704Wilmington, Delaware 
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Warning - this may not be to everyone's taste. As I daily write to satisfy my 'addiction' - I also include as old memories resurface - recollections of past events in my life; With the express purpose of providing additional insight into the "me" - that existed before my kids were born - that they might know me better since I know I will not live forever. Anyhow - a slice of early 1961: The Fire It was forty years ago I'd moved to Detroit A good job I rented a duplex apartment Single, no entanglements I had many dates And then I met Pat While in the service I'd did my 'tour' in Puerto Rico I spent weekends dancing Cha Cha Cha, Merengue, Mambo Rhumba, I was happy as a clam In the motor city Dancing - I had to relearn Steps all different Pat taught me I loved her Divorced, with two under six I didn't care I would have bought the package Pat however loved an engineer But I strived for her approval I had a fifty-nine T-Bird She drove a Triumph TR-3 So I traded up to a Porsche To no avail I lost her Then my neighbors (seemingly all divorcees) Took notice of me One - across the street Bought herself a Alfa Took me for a ride And next door - The other half of duplex Vacant until now Acquired Marsha And five year old Seymour Friend Tom into my second bedroom Paying half the rent At a dance my friend Paul Introduced me to my children's future mother Tom and I both became engaged The following month Tom and Carol still live in Michigan I'm God-parent to one of their daughters One night after taking Penny My fiancé, home from a date I returned and fell into a sound sleep Marsha = high on style Had recently redecorated White fluffy carpet And a sofa to match by the window A heavy smoker As many of us were She also had a deathly Fear of fire Tom woke me about two AM He smelled smoke I threw on pants and we went outside Looking into Marsha's window A tiny flame About the size of an ashtray fire Burning - apparently in or on the sofa We rang- we pounded on the door A neighbor called the fire department We hastened trying to break in We saw hands in the bedroom window upstairs Before we could measure time It was over The fireman asked me: "Was she pretty?" The first duty of love is to listen. |
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| © Copyright 2001 Wilfred Yeats - All Rights Reserved | |||
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jwesley Member Rara Avis
since 2000-04-30
Posts 7563Spring, Texas |
Neat tale my friend...and let's hear it for the TR-3...would love to have mine back. jwesley |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
This leaves me hurting...aching...to know a little of a person that I shall never meet, except through this memory. |
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serenity blaze Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738 |
Oh Wils...thanks for sharing this one, love, would lend itself to prose so easily...the ending chilled me...total tears. HUGS. And thanks, and ? More, please. |
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inot2B Member Elite
since 2000-09-18
Posts 2205Arkansas |
The things that one remembers. The good and the bad, have a way of mingling together. As always Sir you tell it so that I'm right there beside you seeing it. |
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forevernbluejeans Member
since 2001-04-05
Posts 76 |
Lifes memories arent always pleasant...you left me chilled |
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Joyce Johnson
since 2001-03-10
Posts 9912Washington State |
Oh. I went through a horrible fire once. But the only causalty was our litle dog. Otherwise I enjoyed your memories. Joyce |
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Wilfred Yeats Member Elite
since 2000-08-04
Posts 2704Wilmington, Delaware |
those few months of early 1961 - I learned a lot. Sadly - I don't believe we could have saved Marsha or Seymour And 20/20 hindsight tells me - I didn't learn fast enough to avoid marriage that year thank you  |
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suthern
since 1999-07-29
Posts 20723Louisiana |
A chilling tale you've told well... |
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latin passion Senior Member
since 2001-04-26
Posts 576 |
My body is still trembling, for my fear of fires, much less flying. My hands clutch the sides at the picture you just painted. Thank you for sharing a bit of your past. LP |
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Marge Tindal
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384Florida's Foreverly Shores |
Wilfred~ This is a very sad tale of remembrance. I shudder at the thought of Marsha and little Seymour losing their lives in a fire. How very, very sad. ~*Marge*~ ~*The pen of the poet never runs out of ink, as long as we breathe.*~ |
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