01/19/2010: "When He Left"

When He Left

When he left, she shaved her head,
Moved north to her cousin’s horse farm
Where she would ride
Across the meadow and into the mountains
And lose her self for hours.

When he came back, she came down,
Grew out her hair,
Found herself selling high end suits,
Bespoke, at a shop in the city,
Buried the hatchet in the museum of civilization.

---

I am treating myself to a poetry class with the always inspiring Marilyn Gear Pilling. It's my way of making the long winter months move faster in their transit towards Spring.

The poem above is the one I wrote for class tonight, made from words and images, scavenged from my memories and the stories told to me by friends. It is a wonder to me how a poem can focus emotions past and present, and act as a medium to pass them from writer to reader. It's why I want to call myself a writer, and in moments of self confidence, I do.

Three morals in this story:

1. There is a wildness in a woman that only comes out when he goes away.
2. Time flies when you are lost in the creative process.
3. If you can't find a poem in your own experience, it is good to have interesting friends.

Yours with creativity and imagination,
Darlene

Replies: 1 Comment

on Friday, January 29th, kim said

Loved this poem.
I have been wantinn to ask you how the group went. Gotta get together soon. Had to look up bespoke and caveat emptor
both great words. Did you know them already?