The RetroLounge Daily Poem Thread (Mon 2/12/2007)

[RetroLounge]

Used Fiction

I wander our local bookstore on Sunday nights,
a tall white mocha warming my shaking hands,
wondering if you would ever come back here again.
I walk past the cash wrap, past the remainder tables,
the magazine racks and the discounted best sellers.
Are you there sitting on the couch back in fiction,
your legs curled under you, your red backpack
on the floor, reading something you’ve chosen at random?
Maybe you are in the used book room, patiently scrounging
for a bargain, an old Shirley Jackson paperback,
dog-eared and well-read, but in need of your gentle
hands and dark eyes, desiring a place on your shelves.
Then there’s the children’s section, with board games,
a comfortable futon and a stuffed animal petting zoo.
Are your fingers skimming over the titles, looking to see
if that pigeon will ever get to drive the bus?

You are not there, and I drop to my knees
in front of the poetry section, running my fingertips
over the spines at a snail’s pace, noting the titles,
the authors, pulling a book out now and then
and reading a few poems, silently praying for
your touch on my shoulder, asking me for a kiss,
offering a book you’ve chosen for me, craving
the feel of your hands brushing against my back.
I select a book at random and shuffle up
to the cash register, paying for my loneliness
with a credit card and regret, then head to my car.

Stopping at the beach on my way home, I walk
where we walked that first night, remembering
the way we gathered small stones from the sand
and named each one a trait we wanted to let go of:
resentment, anger, fear, and how we tossed them far
into the foaming waves. We wrote their names
in the sand, reverently bowing our heads as the tide
washed them clean from our sight. Then we kissed
for the first time, the cold northeast wind whipping
your long brown hair against my face, your lips
invoking a moment of emotional clarity.
And now I sit alone on the sun-warmed rocks,
fire up a Winston, open up my new book, and read
to you aloud, knowing how you would gasp at the wordplay,
lean in closely against my shoulder, wrap your arms
around my waist, your eyes closed, your lips
slightly open and your shadow growing ever longer.

Paul Scot August

***************

RL

If you have a request for a certain Poet, post their name in the thread and I will find a poem by them and post it...

if you want to see some of my poetry, see the blog at:
http://www.myspace.com/retropaul

[CaliforniaPeggy]

1. My dear Retro........

And this is soooo beautiful...........

I really love the imagery and the feeling it invokes.......

...wrap your arms
around my waist, your eyes closed, your lips
slightly open and your shadow growing ever longer.

Just so damn beautiful, sweetie.........

Thank you.........

:hug:

[RetroLounge]

8. ...

:hug:

RL

[idgiehkt]

2. woohoo!

Glad to see this here.

:woohoo:

That image of *him* sitting there alone is so haunting it gave me chills.

edit: changed pronoun

[RetroLounge]

9. ...

:hug:

RL

[Guava Jelly]

3. That is beuatiful !

and very telling.
:hug:

[RetroLounge]

10. ...

:hug:

RL

[Guava Jelly]

28. beuatiful..argh!!

I type like ass!!

[Rising Phoenix]

4. that is beautiful

and so well written... I can feel what you were feeling when you wrote it, and thats what makes a great poem.

[RetroLounge]

11. ...

:hug:

RL

[EFerrari]

5. I can't read this for long because I will cry. But,

there is in this poem those things that we lose by magic and those things we conjure by magic and I wonder, could that contrast be "fronter" -- or, the way to the contrast be clarified. It's lovely. :)

[RetroLounge]

12. ...

:hug:

RL

[EFerrari]

16. I didn't know you were a magician, Retrolounge.

:hug:

[RetroLounge]

18. I'm full of surprises...

and Magik...

RL

[EFerrari]

20. I'm probably not a great reader right now. But, you seem to have

gotten me started on a "Toolbox Queen" cycle.

Thanks.

[RetroLounge]

22. "Toolbox Queen" cycle?

:shrug:

RL

[EFerrari]

27. Give me a coupla days and I'll show you. The last batch I worked on

was the Shark Charmer cycle. For some reason, I never get visited by singles, just groups.

Thanks, RL. Looks like you got me off of my remote. You should get something for that.

lol

here: :hug:

[RetroLounge]

29. Cool, I look forward...

:hi:

RL

[soleft]

6. when artists make such angst so beautiful

I think it's one of the things that helps everyone get thru stuff.

[RetroLounge]

13. ...

:hug:

RL

[wildhorses]

7. yes. nicely done

if that pigeon will ever get to drive the bus?
with a credit card and regret
your shadow growing ever longer.

the last line of each stanza really packs the punch:thumbsup:


:hug::hi:

[RetroLounge]

14. ...

:hug:

RL

[redqueen]

15. So... he doesn't have her number, then?

Hah, sorry... I had to.

Beautiful stuff... thank you. :)

[RetroLounge]

17. AH, but he does...

:D

:hi:

RL

[BarenakedLady]

19. Beautiful

:hug:

[RetroLounge]

23. ...

:hug:

RL

[WritingIsMyReligion]

21. My dear, that is lovely.

Your style of imagery reminds me of my own attempts, which are far poorer than this. :hi:

:loveya:

[RetroLounge]

24. ...

:hug:

RL

[zingaro]

25. I am awash in this piece.

I love the metaphoric quality of the first stanza. Places compartmentalized into the bits of our life, resplendent with trimmings and furniture and things personal and evocative. It's powerful imagery. "...desiring a place on your shelves." Very heartstring tugging and emotionally baring.

The second stanza's physicality - I really like the idea of a book surrogate in terms of spine, sense of touch, the notion that the book is the medium. The phrase "I drop to my knees" and the "silently praying" work for me, not because I am religious (I'm not) but because they're so raw and longing. And really, the paying for loneliness with a credit card thing? Wonderfully apropos.

The third stanza is again wonderfully physical, especially in it's detailing. I like the cold wind and the warm rocks. I like reverence in the face of letting go. I like the reading aloud to the wind.

...as if you knew the words would carry regardless of location.

It's wonderful. It's achingly warm and lovingly abyssmal, if that makes a bit of sense.

Nice. Very nice.

[RetroLounge]

26. "achingly warm and lovingly abyssmal"

Wow. That sums it up perfectly...

thanks for your comments.

:hug:

RL