—Poetry by Lynn White,
Blaenau Ffestiniog, N. Wales
—Photos Courtesy of Public Domain
BEHIND THE MASK
Will I ever see
what lies behind the mask?
I think I can
sometimes
through the eye slits,
sometimes
when they are open.
Eyes are revealing, after all,
and difficult to hide.
Maybe they’ll tell me enough,
tell me all I need
to know.
So I will have no urge
to peel off the mask,
to tear it away from the skin
underneath.
It would be too painful, anyway.
Too raw,
for both
of us
and would leave behind a soreness
that would not heal.
And still
not all would be revealed
by the exposure.
(prev. pub. in With Painted Words, 2015)
CLOSE YOUR EYES
I’ve closed my eyes
just like you asked.
What now?
What happens next?
You promised me treats
when I opened them.
You promised me wonders.
You promised me the earth,
the grass and the rivers,
the sun and the sky.
But if you can’t manage that
the moon will do.
I’ve closed my eyes
just like you asked.
What now?
What happens next?
You promised me treats
when I opened them.
You promised me wonders.
You promised me the earth,
the grass and the rivers,
the sun and the sky.
But if you can’t manage that
the moon will do.
(prev. pub. in Nine Muses Press, 2020)
MEETING
You spoke to me.
A smile on your lips
and a sadness
behind your eyes
to match my own.
I could see it,
recognise it.
I knew it well.
“Hello you”, I said.
“Hello me?”
A gesture,
a question in your voice,
laughter caught
in the back of your throat
and eyes that smiled.
Momentarily.
At least
momentarily
understanding.
You spoke to me.
A smile on your lips
and a sadness
behind your eyes
to match my own.
I could see it,
recognise it.
I knew it well.
“Hello you”, I said.
“Hello me?”
A gesture,
a question in your voice,
laughter caught
in the back of your throat
and eyes that smiled.
Momentarily.
At least
momentarily
understanding.
(prev. pub. in Amomancies, Commitments, 2015)
TEN MINUTES
In the next ten minutes I have to go,
and you can’t let me just walk
out of your life again.
Can’t let you! Can’t stop you, I said,
and I won’t try, won’t try.
How can I? What should I do?
Follow you from place to place?
Sit outside your house and chance
being turned away, by someone?
I don’t know where it is, in any case
and I don’t want to know.
So what’s it to be? A thread?
An occasional email to keep in touch?
I don’t think so!
Our lives are so distant in every way,
how to join them up?
The trick would be to store the memories
and leave behind the sense of loss.
Ditch the sadness.
But we’ve tried before. And failed.
And we’re running out of years.
If we meet a next time,
the chances are
we’ll be too old to care.
We need to achieve a modus vivendi,
that will at least allow
our lives to touch each other.
Nothing less?
And, in the next ten minutes!
I said.
In the next ten minutes I have to go,
and you can’t let me just walk
out of your life again.
Can’t let you! Can’t stop you, I said,
and I won’t try, won’t try.
How can I? What should I do?
Follow you from place to place?
Sit outside your house and chance
being turned away, by someone?
I don’t know where it is, in any case
and I don’t want to know.
So what’s it to be? A thread?
An occasional email to keep in touch?
I don’t think so!
Our lives are so distant in every way,
how to join them up?
The trick would be to store the memories
and leave behind the sense of loss.
Ditch the sadness.
But we’ve tried before. And failed.
And we’re running out of years.
If we meet a next time,
the chances are
we’ll be too old to care.
We need to achieve a modus vivendi,
that will at least allow
our lives to touch each other.
Nothing less?
And, in the next ten minutes!
I said.
(prev. pub. in Leannan, Lovers issue, 2015)
REJECTION
It’s not that I’m not tempted,
she said
and I don’t want to offend you.
She took my hand briefly,
to show no offence
was intended,
then let it go.
I held on to hers
as she explained.
Then we walked in silence
for quite a long way
enveloped in the dark night.
Hand in hand.
Quiet footsteps
that didn’t break the silence.
She looked up at me and smiled.
I smiled back.
Or was I the first to smile
and she smiled back?
I don’t remember.
It doesn’t matter,
but we still don’t remember.
(prev. pub. in Friday’s Poems, 2017)
__________________
Today’s LittleNip:
A person isn’t who they are during the last conversation you had with them—they’re who they’ve been throughout your whole relationship.
—Rainer Maria Rilke
__________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Lynn White for her poems today on the theme of relationships!
For upcoming poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
