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Open Poetry #15
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The Boat
| Open Poetry #15 |
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The Boat |
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Gwendrina Junior Member
since 2001-08-21
Posts 33 |
To him I am a bone-thin syllable wife, nothing else. I wait to hear loving, patient, or beautiful precede the role but he saves those sweet endearments for the boat, not as words but as ways of handling her. he loves the wooden bow sliding pelvis-smooth in legs of wind that carry her along the river’s course . He takes her out several times a week and sleeps in a lap cushioned with velour scented with cedar. Moonlight falls over the water and she bathes in cool silver and the shadow of trees rippling beneath her body in the same way my hair used to ripple beneath his. I can still see David’s eyes shining under crescent lids drawing my love into a smile he touched with fingers blistered from working in the garden building a summerhouse out of antique iron and slate tiles. He made a place for us then retreated to one of his own. . These summer evenings I sit in the yard wearing twilight like a widow’s veil, constantly asking why. |
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| © Copyright 2001 Gwendrina - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
Gwen, with writing like this, you will gather a following, and quickly! Welcome to Passions! Please, check your e-mail for a special greeting! Karilea |
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Sven
since 1999-11-23
Posts 14937East Lansing, MI USA |
I must concur with Sunshine. . . this is a tale well told. . . one that too many people can relate to. . . it's pure, heartfelt, and has all the pain of a woman who's been replaced. . . albeit not with a mistress of flesh and blood, but with one of wood and metal. . . welcome. . . wonderfully done. . .  --------------------------------------------------- To the world, you may only be one person. But to one person, you may be the world. |
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Janet Marie Member Laureate
since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554 |
I can still see David’s eyes shining under crescent lids drawing my love into a smile he touched with fingers blistered from working in the garden building a summerhouse out of antique iron and slate tiles. He made a place for us then retreated to one of his own. . These summer evenings I sit in the yard wearing twilight like a widow’s veil, =========================== oh my this is achingly beautiful, excellent writing here...the imagery is superbly done as is the express of the emotion. Welcome to Poetry Land, its so nice to have you here...and yes...I too look forward to more of your work. jm Feels like Im dancin with truth and wisdom |
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VAS Member Rara Avis
since 2000-11-16
Posts 7450Oregon |
Wow!!! What a magnificent first post! I ache for the woman in this tale and hope it is only a tale, but know that it does occur all too much. How does one compete with inanimate objects that seem to be alive to the dreamer? Welcome! I truly enjoyed reading this, fantastic piece.  BRAVO |
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RMW Senior Member
since 2001-03-21
Posts 1424 |
Gwen....ouch! Sailing Come bend a comma on the wind, And in the pause Begin again That passage youth once longed to make. Tack! Come about! There are no ruts here on the lake. RMW PS ...but your poem was great. |
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shadow974 Senior Member
since 2001-06-21
Posts 636Michigan |
Great poem and welcome to passions! Throw your heart out in front of you |
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snowpants Member Elite
since 2000-09-16
Posts 2061KS |
Achingly beautiful expressions, Gwendrina! Welcome to Passions...great write! sp  tried to write a letter |
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SmittenKitten Senior Member
since 2001-06-20
Posts 1131where the sky and horizon meet |
Wow...can't wait to read more! Welcome to Passions ~Krista  |
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Gwendrina Junior Member
since 2001-08-21
Posts 33 |
Hello Everyone, Just wanted to say thank you all so much for the gracious welcome to "Passions" and for the wonderful comments and insight you have offered on my first poem, here. I am touched by your kindness!!! thank you Wendy |
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