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')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). 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 blog posts as much as possible.

27 January 2017

The Way It Changes

I am not writing so many 
sad poems any more.
Four years and four months
have passed since your passing;
I am adjusting. I would even say
my life is pleasant, I have learned

Or perhaps it’s all gone underground.
I’m bingeing on vampire movies 
and TV series, over and over
exploring death, dying, afterlife, 
immortality, and what to do 
with love when the loved one’s gone.
How to keep it / them?

Escapist, I've told myself. But
now I think, It’s just the way
it changes. And Leonard too
has left us, like so many.
They are changing constantly,
the shoreline and the sea
that make my life.

I read, I play with my cat,
I make more poems, 
I meet my friends 
for coffee and chat,
there are family visits.
Still, obsessively, I contemplate
undying passion, resurrection.

Prompted, in part, by Midweek Motif ~ Change at Poets United


  1. ...and what to do
    with love when the loved one’s gone....that's just heartbreaking. These are the imponderables we are left with after great loss.

  2. Wow! And I LOVE how you've woven in Cohen's "That's no way to say goodbye." There is no way--it just changes. You might offer tea and oranges with that coffee and chat ...

  3. the acceptance of subtle changes that really take place "when the loved one’s gone." is so well put...

  4. Thought provoking. When the loved one goes I suppose you must fill the big hole with all the things you have listed and take a chekovian approach 'endure'

  5. The price of a life well lived. I too miss my first wife.

  6. This is soo beautiful, so very eloquently penned, Rosemary! "Still, obsessively, I contemplate undying passion, resurrection." Sigh...

  7. When I read your poem I think...for everything there is a season. We all deal with life...and death...and contemplating of both...one way or another.

  8. Yes, I feel the sadness in your poem and can deeply relate. That last line truly resonates Rosemary! Beautiful writing!