My memories of the party are visual:
photos, faces, continuous white noise video
smiling eyes, gesturing fingers, hands,
nose-to-nose discussions, sipping ideas
in the dim bar, children in a booth
friends, relatives, companions gathered
to celebrate life—it plays like a silent movie
with an underwater sound-track as words
blur into eachotherlikeporridgeheating

I hear everything blending into nothing
viewed through a glass that makes me
spectator viewing a newborn from a hall:
so much potential, so little comprehension;
joy seen, not heard; convictions shaken,
not stirred; unheard song of an unseen bird.

But after, in the retelling, I hear all
in the clarion purity of accoustic halls;
trumpets state the obvious: simple, true;
and I listen eagerly to the party part two.


(Visited 20 times, 1 visits today)
FavoriteLoadingAdd to favorites

About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/ Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
This entry was posted in aging, Poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.