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David Ellsworth Poem
They came yesterday, early as dawn itself
They came with shovels and trowels
To give protection from the winter
To the rose bushes that you loved
Shortly after lunch I heard Oliver barking
It was his angry bark, his sound of offense
For the worker was digging and exhumed
Your scarf from the tangled roots of roses
I gave the scarf to Connie, I remember
She was little then, five or so
And she visited to ask for something of yours
To keep and remember
When she went home and her mother asked
What she had done at our house
She said, “I just sat on his lap
And helped him cry.”
It comes to me now, later she asked
About the scarf again and I assumed she lost it
But now there was the evidence
Oliver also had a need to remember
And put his souvenir of you
Beneath the bushes you so loved
And the workman held the scarf to me
And I told him, “Put it back.”
He comes to me at night
It is his ritual of companionship
Sad-eyed and with mournful whimpering
He comes to my arms and licks my hand
And we are together before the fireplace
Watching shadows dance across the walls
Each remembering the moments that were ours
Each guarding a part of you in the roots of us
Copyright © David Ellsworth | Year Posted 2012
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David Ellsworth Poem
Your eyes never opened after that last long kiss
You pulled the dark curtain of sleep about you
Your body fitted against mine in perfect configuration
And your hand upon my arm about you
We always fitted well in all things
What was it that you said?
“Do you know why God put those spaces between your fingers?”
And when I shrugged, you fitted your fingers between mine.
Watching you alone with yourself within your slumber
I came to realize that love can only be appreciated
When we imagine what we would be without it
And in that moment of my pondering
I discovered many things.
Your touch was more profound than a million hands in applause
And touching toes to be sure you were there
Was a communication far superior to internet
I determined then that a kiss was indeed a luxury
And a moonlight whisper has more power
Than all the chants of protest across the world
Walking hand-in-hand had far more meaning
Than any three car garage
And your head resting upon my shoulder
Lightened all the weights of a troublesome life
And without you life itself would fade into obscurity
The complexities of life never altered the simplicity of us
We drove 200 kilometers just to eat at The Fat Duck at Bray
We camped overnight in the ruins of the old Cathar castle
In the hills beyond Limoux where we found the cave
And when your father welcomed us into his home
But commanded that I sleep in a separate room
You told him, “He is my life now, you must understand”
And we slept at the Albergo al Viale and drank wine at breakfast
And all the wonders of my life were there
Lost in that nocturnal womb where I could not go
And when moonlight filtered through the limbs of trees
And decided to dance upon your face
I also learned that God could promise me nothing more
For my salvation was beside me and the gates of heaven
Opened with your eyes of morning
And my soul would come home again for another day
Copyright © David Ellsworth | Year Posted 2012
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David Ellsworth Poem
I cannot put you into rhyme
You would refuse to go there
Having once said, “If you can describe love . . . . It isn’t”
And you are the same
I cannot dress you in words and do you justice
Adjectives fall upon themselves in the effort
And metaphors mumble in confusion
While searching for comparisons
Because you were the source of it all
All things must be compared to you
And beauty should have bowed when you passed
Your smile was never like the sunrise
Rather, the sunrise imitated your smile
And when I saw stars reflected in your eyes
The stars were made more beautiful
Some men are correct to offer the compliment
“You look beautiful in that dress”
That was inappropriate with you and I would gasp
“That dress looks beautiful on you”
The standard of all things lovely lived in you
And with a glance the sister nymphs danced
And all was well in the kingdom of my soul
And so it is now . . . . now that you are gone
When leaves whisper about the wind
I know they gossip of why I walk alone
Why my arm reaches for the empty space beside me
And crickets spread rumors across the night
Even the streamlet frog grunts his agreement
Because without you all things beautiful
Depend upon each other for definition
And grow lonely in the task
And I am composed of memories, nothing more
Repeating them like butterflies going home
Copyright © David Ellsworth | Year Posted 2012
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David Ellsworth Poem
It is a city with its lurid lights lavishing upon the night
Products hawked in gaudy neon
Street lamps form uniform circles upon the pavement
And traffic signals repeat themselves across the landscape
A man with flat eyes pulls a blanket about him
And clutches his dog, he puts his shoes beside him
As if remembering when he had a bed
Whores mingle by the fire plug and eye the traffic
Their dignity sold by the hour
And I walk there toward the same places
As every night
Jimmy told me that you came to the café
Even though you asked him to say nothing of your visit
He said you sat at our table and read a book
He took your order of a coffee and asked about me
And he said you looked very sad in that moment and shrugged
And so each night I walk past the café windows
Peering in like a street urchin and praying
To see your face or that you will look up to see mine
But you are not there
And the excitement of hope drains from me like wet ashes
I go to St. Joseph’s in the village
And sit in the dark corner below the choir loft
Hoping you will come as we did each Sunday
But you do not. You do not come
And I am happy to be in church
To pray for you, that blessings fill your days
And that I might be one of them
Then it is the garish flat where we knew love
To sit by the window and watch the night
Gather in the city like a troubled infant
And to dream of a soft knock at the door
And for our love to come home
Copyright © David Ellsworth | Year Posted 2012
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David Ellsworth Poem
when winter comes and skeletons of trees
stand starkly upon the snow
i will think of you
and your head on my lap before the fireplace
skating on the gaunt, deep pond
where we made love on brighter days
hot chocolate and fired brandies
and standing at windows while flurries fell
when it is spring again and trees bear promises
as islands of snow die slowly in their shadows
i will think of you
when all was alive again and you believed in us
within the world of nest-making and streams going home
making bouquets of foothill flowers
constantly profaning the word “forever”
and imagining that winter was forever gone
when summer is upon me with sweltering wrath
i will come to the forest where we walked and
i will think of you
where we were prone beneath the well dressed limbs
in a canopy above us, fitted into one another like lovers
by the quarry lake where you were covered in beads of water
and the sun loved you and glistened upon your body
where i looked at you as one would view sunsets or miracles
autumn will come with all its dark omens and i will walk
upon the crisp leaves made spectacular by death
and i will think of you
where the earth wore its gaudy colors while ours had faded
into the murky hues of uneasiness and fear
and soon the trees will awaken alone and naked to the world
and i will understand their plight in a box called home
where once laughter lived and life was wonderful
there was a time before seasons and sentiment
when small, gentle hands covered my eyes with giggles
and you gasped, “oh, i’m sorry! i thought you were someone else!”
i smiled then and replied, “i am.”
it was the spring of us that led into the caldron of summer passion
before time and treasons took their toll
before reality and reason tore the glitter from our eyes
and our autumn came that condemned us to our winter
Copyright © David Ellsworth | Year Posted 2012
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David Ellsworth Poem
All year you were doing it
And refused to tell me why.
Each coin given in change
Was dropped into the empty coffee can
And by July, another can was needed.
December brought the Christmas tree
That you decorated with care
And when I asked what gift you wanted
You were annoyed
“We’re not buying anything,” you announced
With that special tone of finality.
Christmas night we sat together
Under blankets on the sofa
And you were happy
And I was lost in awe.
On December 26 you leapt from bed
And shook me awake.
“It’s Saint Stephen’s Day!” you proclaimed
Playfully poking your finger into my side
“Saint who?” I asked.
So all the coins were poured from the cans,
Counted and divided into packages
Of equal amounts before you pulled me
Onto the streets and into dismal alleys
“This is Charlotte,” you told me
And gave her one of the packaged coins.
“This is Thomas,” you later said
And presented him with another of the packages.
You knew all of their names
And I couldn’t understand how
These residents of alleys and park benches and bushes
Were known to you like old friends
I even noticed that Thomas was wearing
That sweater I was missing from the closet
“In Italy,” you told me, holding my face
Within your hands.
“St. Stephen’s Day is a time of giving.
Isn’t it wonderful?”
And in that moment I didn’t know
If the day was wonderful
I only knew that you were.
Copyright © David Ellsworth | Year Posted 2012
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David Ellsworth Poem
i will forget you
just as i have forgotten my first kiss
and third grade teacher
you will be forgotten
and sent into the backyard of my mind
and forbidden to return
i will turn away from the push cart
with purple asters
and ignore gazebos and river walks
i will not go where people mingle in twos
and where apple blossoms touch the air
i will be too busy forgetting you
nothing will be related to you
not the key hook you forced into the wall
or the tablecloth you scorched
because you turned for a kiss
everything will be what it is
without a remnant of what was you
i will forget you
even when dreams resurrect us
and you take vengeance in your absence
i was forgetting you with another
but saw the baby robin peak from its nest
and excitedly said, “carol, look!”
i will forget you
through every temptation and hint
daisy fields and haystacks
the first green suggestion of spring
you returning to bed for “just a minute”
i will forget you
but not just now
Copyright © David Ellsworth | Year Posted 2012
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David Ellsworth Poem
I loved it when you were learning
And practiced with adjectives at every opportunity
You would frame my face within your hands
And kiss me fiercely before announcing
“Happy kiss”
A kiss that had no special reason, coming as a sample
Proving the glow upon your face was real and marvelous
That you were at home, safe within my heart.
I loved your questions that confused me
“Shake hands and say How do you do . . . .
How do you do what?”
And you would wait for an answer with that cute frown
And there was no answer other than “That’s what we say”
“You’re crazy!” she’d respond. “Thank you, you’re welcome!
Welcome? Welcome to where, to what?
That’s what you say, right? English is for crazy people!”
You loved autumn above all seasons
Pointing and practicing, “Leaf . . . . bush . . . . torrente . . . .
“Stream,” I’d tell you and you would nod pertly
And repeat, “stream . . . . stream . That’s a pretty word.”
“Sure, and gonorrhea sounds like a South Sea island
English is crazy, remember?”
But you would ignore me and walk on muttering
“Stream . . . . torrente . . . . stream . . . . stream.”
That night we sat on the sofa
You with your legs tucked beneath you
And you took my hand with eyes teary bright
“Sometimes,” you said, “I want to lock the door
Never open for anybody. Food is not important
I just want to stay here, inside this place
Here, beside you, inside your arms
Because I am frightened of everything out there.”
Existence was defined by emptiness
Your side of the bed, the chair before me at the table
The seat belt dangling and your place on the sofa
Your side of the dresser, your towels on the rack
Your shampoo and your place to lay out clothes for tomorrow
Everything was abbreviated and nothing complete
Because reality knocked at the door
And everything you feared invited us to this moment
Copyright © David Ellsworth | Year Posted 2012
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David Ellsworth Poem
Soft breath winds crossed the field
Wildflowers bending in its reverence
Cottoned clouds in their endless journey
While the brook chattered over rocks
It was a secret place
Discovered on a Sunday walk
And later our place for picnics and passion
In the warm days of spring and new beginnings
Carrion crows gossiped from the stand of pines
Tall grasses hissed around the breeze
From somewhere a ewe called for a lamb
And the sun was gentle and generous
You would be there, on your back, eyes upward
Smiling at all that was
Wishing that every day could be so wondrous
Until the splendor brought your tears of elation
And there was me . . . . sole witness of true grandeur
Found within the curve of your lip or winsome half smile
You were more glorious than the boastful clouds
More radiant than the sun against the brook stones
Far more gentle and fulfilling than the calming breeze
More easily loved than all of creation
For as the earth will one day consume me
So did you so long ago
Copyright © David Ellsworth | Year Posted 2012
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David Ellsworth Poem
They stand before me in uniform columns
A mixture of snapshots and Polaroids
As testimony to the time of us
Each is a witness to a moment that was
When I clicked you into permanence
And sanctified an instant never to be denied
There is the shaded image of you asleep
Your hand resting easily on the pillow
And I remember wondering where you had gone
In the passage through your dreaming
You are there with funny face and clownish pose
Sitting pensive and aloof beside the River Po
Lifting a toast, as if to us and all tomorrows
Somber and dejected on the day the canary died
You are there, made as forever as a statue
Immortal upon flexible plastic
And indelible upon my memories, you are there
Each photo a recollection, like ashes of reality
Engraved upon my soul in kisses and promises
You are there because I am your inheritance to you
Copyright © David Ellsworth | Year Posted 2012
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