a life frozen by a moment of time
walking an empty pathway
blocking out pregnant silences
by burbling nervous nonsense
until in a pool of darkness
between two lampposts’ yellow light
Rebekah put a finger to my lips
held my face between warm palms
kissed me. said she loved me –
but she would never be free.
she wiped tears from her face
and wiped tears from mine.
at home I pulled my curtains tight
against moonlight and the creeping dawn
and woke, my belly filled with morning.
© coolhermit 2023
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I’ve had a few of those, mate!
join the queue 🙂
the greeks say “cold hands warm heart” I think it’s a universal phrase just googled it. for some reason I almost believe it’s not true. a sentimental write..
oh her hands were warm that evening and she had the coldest of hearts but I was not to know that until she broke my heart 🙂
sorry for asking but was she married already? it’s your line she would never be free.
Married – estranged from husband – the ‘never be free’ was my invention to create a sad ending. As it was in reality we had a crazy affair 🙂
she may have been the type that doesn’t deserve becoming a poem without mentioning her warm palms (then , perhaps and indeed)
I put her in another pome written years ago – a performance piece – it’s on UKA https://ukauthors.com/2017/11/03/meeting-mrs-potiphar/. But in life and imagination, everything and everyone might or might not be true, be real, or not 🙂 Rick
well bloody romantic fantasy strictly for poetic reasons can get you into trouble with or without an affair! people believe what they read and what they write! lol
Ah well, people believe what they want to believe – I live in a thousand dimensions, with 1000 names, 1000 truths, 1000 lies – you won’t find me in my work – only passing
shadows 🙂
that’s so neat. wish I could do it!
I’m a piscean – we hide ourselves away in the bulrushes 🙂
I know you pisces very well. both my parents belong to this star sign and my current best friend does also, not to mention a couple of other souls I have met. Charismatic to say the least. You may hide from others but it’s nearly impossible from your immediate family for which you (and your dreamworld) is an open book.
I have little contact with my family (7 children 10 grandchildren) – I live in my own world 😉
wow… you certainly seem to have lived first then write (as Greek literary circles say ‘first you live then you write’)
Yes – young writers are full of hopes, expectations and certainties – as we get older, have raised a family, been successful, failed etc etc and know and have seen and assimilated more our writing has a deep rich fecund pile from which to draw example and metaphor. That is not to say youg people cannot write but their work is subject to their youth and can be overridden by their ambition – at my age I know I’m no big deal
…. 🙂
yeah but what if a younger person has absolutely no plan or intention to live all these things? what if the younger person strongly believes in vanitas vanitatum omnia vanitas and just observes with bitter hope the very end of his/hers and everybody’s illusions?
Life brings what it brings – not what we choose – my life was wrecked (and my plans and planned future) by my wife leaving me with a huge family to care for – not what I expected – these things just are. How do you make God laugh? Tell him your plans. These matters are for long taverna evenings over ouzo or retsina or even coffee and cigarettes. 🙂
the trouble is people actually think the pomes are true accounts – hardly ever but I like to give a sense of authenticity 🙂
yes because with authenticity you may obtain authority in fact one of the greatest joys of writing is persuading others you are authentic and the only one authorized to know what’s real and what’s not.