Amber Doesn’t Blog

November 9, 2007 at 5:51 pm | Posted in writing | 2 Comments
Tags: , , ,

She doesn’t have time, what with the kids and the jobs.
Many people write as mere selfexpression therapy
and they are required to demonstrate their craft openly,
displaying their skills with a little ostentation
to justify your attention but Amber doesn’t blog.

She walks, shoulders slightly hunched,
eyes on pavement not crafting poems
about walking, but walking and poetising
and part of Amber is remembering, that part
remembered with its own rhythm and delight
or perhaps tripped halfstep over broken glass
a shard of memory mirror distort by some other
power,

and when Amber is sad
I am sad
the world is sad
I realise I am not a banker
nor doctor nor nurse
I am a poor soul if Amber is sad,
so I must put away my craft
my lickedysplit entertainments,
no more talk of hinges
and pivots and miracles,
synchronicities and odd reflections,
joy in common being,
no connecticons,
no secret heartbeats,
no (hugs) ?

There is a permanence of Amber
beyond craft, beyond words,
Amber does not blog
she merely
fluttersbye
butterflies
and settles
her legs tickling your finger
with an infolding of golden wings,
and there is a permanence
of Amber,

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2 Comments »

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  1. (cuz Amber means …love – and because I love her, I am willing to listen to her silence and know that I am OK…silent as well.)

    Gingatao, I have an Amber too, only I call her “Angel.”

    Beautiful – Bravo…

    Poetman

  2. Thankyou. Amber is a living breathing laughing hugging superdooperubercool friend of mine.


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