Sunday, July 3, 2016

Writing poetry ... or not.

For me, poems just happen or they don't.  I'd like to write more of them but can never write to order.  It seems that for me there needs to be an intensity of having something to say which requires a poem and then I can write one.  I think I can write well when I have something really important to say, and sometimes that might be in prose, but if what I want to write about is worthwhile but not really important (or even if it isn't particularly worthwhile but is required) I can write well, but don't always do so (and I apologise for the posts I write here which may be more sloppily put together). 

This poem arrived about a week ago. 


For the record

twenty-five years
since my soulmate died
I note the occasion
with good memories
and interest

looking back
a quarter of a century
friends new and old
the real me
emerging then established

I post on social media
to make sure his memory
is honoured
then start to miss
not him, but you

love for a soulmate
is obvious, almost
unnecessary to mention
but you who were not my soulmate
were more loved

were more in a story
we unfolded together
our love and life
a more real thing
that might not have been but was

a marriage of imperfections
worked with and valued
and family
embraced and embracing

he had the easy life
universally liked
while you struggled
to fit in
except in my heart