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.

7 April 2017

What April Means to Me

April is the month of Linda’s birthday,
who sat beside me at Library School
when I was – what – 20?
and she a few years younger.

We didn't really start talking 
until second term (that freezing
Melbourne winter). Since then
we’ve hardly stopped

through first jobs,
early romances,
marriages, children,
high-powered library careers, until

the art, the art, the art
at last took over –
the painting, the poetry,
the printed works.

She always looked out for me,
found me work beside her
(she liked working 
with me; I liked that too)

and cajoled me into attending
poetry readings that blew my mind 
and the first meeting
of the Poets Union.

Who else would I invite
to be by my side
when I entered prison
as a poetry tutor?

Who else but she
would commission me
to help stage a national
literacy conference?

Our sons grew up together
in their earliest years – walks with prams
in the Botanic Gardens,
playtimes in both our back yards.

Fast forward. 
Our sons are men
who still count us as family
to each other and them.

And we, now,
elderly widows with cats
living in different States,
chat on facebook (don't feel old)

still admire each other’s poems
agree on politics
meet in mysticism
laugh, tell secrets, laugh….

This poem has gone rambling on
like our lives, our friendship. I suppose 
there must at length come some arbitrary stop.
It doesn't really have an end.


Midweek Motif at Poets United this week asks for poems on April. I didn't think I had any, but then.... 

16 comments:

  1. I loved your poem, Rosemary. It could apply to my relationship with a couple of my friends. I have this anonymous quote on my desk:
    "A friend is a rare book of which but one copy is made".

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  2. Teaching poems in prison sounds like an exciting venture. I'm sure you have many more stories to tell about that!

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    1. Sorry – sad rather than exciting, and not a source of anecdotes.

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  3. What a lovely nostalgic poem and how fortunate you are to have a long term enduring friendship.Enjoyed reading this.

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  4. What a beautiful and appropriate gift, thanks Rosemary

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  5. A precious togetherness through fine details! I like how you end with attention to the form: Neither poem nor friendship has to end.

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  6. I so loved reading about your history with your friend, Linda. My goodness, so many wonderful milestones between you. You are truly blessed, Rosemary.

    Poppy

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  7. Good friends are hard to find, hard to explain, have no meaning, other than those found deep in the heart. You both are lucky. So often friends, come and go, set on fire, cool and disappear through the years. Perhaps it is as it should be, that is why they are called special, you can't get rid of them.

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  8. A legacy here. April returns, with all of its treasures, reminding us that there is yet more.

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  9. This is such a beautiful piece on a precious friendship to treasure for life.

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  10. What a great poem, Rosemary! I like how you have used April as the springboard (sorry for the pun ;-) for this paean to your friendship with Linda. She must be chuffed for this great tribute.

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    1. She was! (Smile.) Thanks for the compliments, and no pun received – April is autumn here, lol.

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  11. Wat a beautiful tribute to your friendship with Linda, spanning several decades, Rosemary. Truly, the two of you, are blessed, for this. Thank you, for sharing this enriching part of your life.

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