I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world,
to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

Some of these poems are autobiographical, some are entirely fictional, and some are a mixture of both. The intention is art rather than self-expression. I don't allow factual details to get in the way of poetry! (I do seek emotional truth.)

They are works in progress, and may be subject to revision without notice. Completed versions appear in my books. Nevertheless copyright applies to all texts found here.
Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your posts as much as possible.

23 July 2011

The Photo on My Desk

We’re about to be married.
We stand, nervously smiling,
in front of a hedge of white roses.
The roses in my bouquet
and the one in your buttonhole
are cream like my smart suit.
There are pearls in my ears
and three strands around my neck.
My hair is coiffed and fluffy.

Yours is brushed up too
as bouffant as short can be.
You stand straight in your navy,
displaying your fancy tie.

We never dress like this!

I remember that stupid man
who was married to what’s-her-name
telling me how nice I looked,
in tones of raw surprise.


  1. It sounds as if you both looked nice, despite your statement, we never dress like this... isn't that what a wedding is all about, dressing up for the big once-in-a-lifetime event.

    Great write from you.

  2. We did look nice, actually. :) And you are right.