"The Woman Who Let Him Write"

for a writing pair of friends

 

For the sake of awareness and memory

he takes brief notes on what piques his curiosity,

which allows him to see his own pretension.

He laughs but would never try to change

as his mounds of notebooks grow.

He merely smiles at the never-read notebook piles.

 “How pretentious,” he says, but quickly adds, “Clarity is important.

Written words are clearer than thoughts.”

One day he’ll give that habit up, she hopes.

He has a complete collection of Coltrane, she notes,

and to cover a stain, there’s a black and white Ansel Adams print on his wall

that is beautiful in spite of it all.

 

She looks down at his words

where he lays outstretched to relax.

The writing is showy and self-important to the max;

full of swirls and twirls,

flamboyant to say the least.

 

There is always a book in his hands

though he never reads as he stands leaning against the wall

James Dean-like, posed-like,

but it’s only one of several poses he naturally strikes

when he’s thinking.

 

The life wheel keeps turning,

each year she keeps yearning as he laughs

though she rarely does.

Only two months her junior,

he looks so much younger.

As the days go by, her limitations are barely hidden,

her life possibilities are shrinking

her inner world is chaos and comedy combined.

 

Awareness is pain,

she knows, when he’s found a new lover,

he used to love her and it shows

there’s nothing left, if he’ll let her go,

with something akin to pity or hatred mixed with shame

she’s found a place in the city, and he’s found a bit of fame.

Author's Note

Not meant to resemble anyone but the couple who gave me permission to write this. He laughed, she cried.

Reviews

[Narnie]

Talent. Both in observing life and writing it.

[Helen Woodward]

I can imagine! It is just awful when only one of a couple is a writer because the one who is not could not possibly understand the time it takes out of your day, having said that I believe that it can work if some consideration is used by the writer. My husband was a writer also, though he wrote mostly technical papers, nonetheless it is just as time consuming...writing in any genre becomes your life and can so easily run the 'home show' if it gets out of hand...
An interesting write Mimi, I could relate so easily to this having written a couple of novels and various other things and knowing how time runs away from you when you are engrossed in a project...
Nicely done brilliant lady!

Cheers~

Helen~

[Emily B]

your eyes don't miss much, just as Ed already said

I can imagine myself in her shoes . . . it's not hard at all to see through those eyes

[Fabian G. Franklin]

I miss my Mimi...I reread this again. You are so brilliantly talented.

[Ladysue]

wow, great insight into this relationship. I think it speaks for so many. A poignant piece of writing...

[Fabian G. Franklin]

What a wonderful written chunk of reality, such observation of the inner workings of a relationship revealed in so few lines. It's almost like a movie (although somewhat sadly like a soap opera). Personally I have always believed that one can never depend upon another person to insure one's happiness. People are frail, weak, flawed and damaged. Happiness must come from within one's own heart and soul and exude outwards to others...it simply does not work in reverse. Which is why the scriptures say "Cursed is the man who trusts in man but blessed is the man who trusts in God" God is not frail, weak, flawed and damaged as humans are... for those who do not believe in God, I would advise trusting only your own heart and never that of another. Then, if it comes to pass that you are unhappy, you have only yourself to blame.

[Ed Hart]

just two regular people, both wounded; apparently he doesn't know it, but it will catch up with him; it always does...you, of course, are your ongoing classy self, with excellent eyes...