When We Met
This is not a literal dialog between two people exactly, rather it is about a dialog that took place a few years ago. I offer this for Poetry Thursday readers and all others who may find an interest.
When We Met
We spoke of those times of our foolishness
not without a hint of nostalgia,
of the feel of it coursing through our blood.
We spoke of it as if it were a good thing
to speak of, to remind ourselves of that
pain, that glory of sorts, that anguish of youth.
It was a miracle actually, we could speak at all,
as if it were just a simple story diluted with time
like a liquid ferment that changes colors like Fall.
The miracle was in the speaking,
in the braggadocio, the casual way with death
that denies the real and smells like a tomb.
We sweat in those times, now in absentia.
We were lost in the circles, those
circles of redundancy, an endless
loop that comes back to haunt us
recalling the time we stopped on the loop
and couldn’t remember how we got there,
so we got high and jumped back in to take
the turn ever lower on the spiral, to
the bottom at the end of the line of the times.
We won’t speak of it again….
The pain of its memory felt too good.
.
I really like this, Ron. The sense of speaking was rich even without literal back and forth dialogue.
This was awesome and I really related to the images.
I really liked the visuals here..lost in the circles, those circles of redundancy..great job..madd
A very powerful poem- it really takes the reader back into these two people’s lives.
Thank you all so much. This is one of those I liked from the moment it came out of me…which it literally did. I don’t remember even thinking about it. It just happened. Of course I’ve tweaked it a bit from time to time and still see a few little edits I could make but maybe I should leave well enough alone!
Thanks for stopping by.
melancholy poem, nicely written.