- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The Nearly Silent Still Want to Sing
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Click hereBen remembers how happy he felt
last Sunday evening at seven,
dressed for romance and a late dinner,
bow-tied, shoe shined, and smelling
the centerpiece his Harriet arranged.
Why, she's the only woman for him
who dabs a little cologne on his chin
before she serves him dinner at seven
under a full moon shining tonight,
the ceiling light above her head,
while a clock on the wall tells her it's time
for Mona in room eleven
as Harriet tucks him into bed,
keeps to herself her name is Diane,
and whispers "Good night, my sweet Ben.
We'll dine next Sunday at seven."
- COMMENTS
I don’t think I have seen this one before. It works beautifully—light where the danger is to fall into sentimentality, yet so moving. Great turn in the third stanza—it has the feel of a modern sonnet, without the constraints.
I am left thinking of my parents (now dead) and their neighbors in assisted living/nursing/rehab homes (and the implicit and guilty thought of “I don’t want to find myself there in 20 years,”) and broke down. Your poem reminds me of John Prine’s “Hello in There,” a song that gets me every time.
Lovely, gm.
Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.
Thanks for your kind words, Tzara. I'll submit a poem elsewhere once in a while which usually results in a rejection form letter. That's ok. My primary audience is my beautiful wife and two grown children.
Sometimes experienced poets will post. I enjoy reading them, but what I most enjoy are the fledgling poets who, if they keep their enthusiasm, will continue to polish their poems.
A strange poem, good poem, even very good poem, gm. Fabulous title, wonderful title, which I think is supposed to tell me what the poem is about--old folks home? Alzheimer's facility?
That I have to think a bit about it isn't a fault of the poem itself, or even necessarily of me, but of the context in which the poem appears. My first reading, despite the "non-erotic" label, was that this was a poem about a brothel, or something like it.
I know, stupid. But it is the context in which the poem is presented, I think, that led me to that.
Which is another reason why I would nag you to perhaps consider submitting your poems elsewhere. They are very good and worthy of publication in most any poetry-focused journal. But I also understand why you might not want to do that as well.
Excellent writing, though. Thanks.
This is Tzara, by the way. I'm having trouble with authenticating myself to Lit.