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Two Writers
by Bruce W Niedt
We went for coffee that June afternoon,
beneath a deck of building clouds, and sat
outdoors, the bistro patio festooned
with marigolds. And there I told you that
I missed the way we used to share our craft,
how poetry would pull us through the miles.
I told some funny anecdotes; you laughed.
We made shop-talk about our different styles.
The sunlit awning washed our faces red,
but faded just as we began to write.
The rain, staccato, drummed above our heads.
We finished and we shared, and yet despite
our feverish pens, we left a panoply
of words unsaid, beneath that canopy.
02/03/2011 Author's Note: Written in Jane Hirshfield's workshop at the Palm Beach Poetry Festival, January 2011. Published in Robert Brewer's "Poetic Asides" column in the July/August 2011 issue of Writer's Digest.
Posted on 02/03/2011
Copyright © 2025 Bruce W Niedt
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Linda Fuller on 02/04/11 at 01:31 AM Quite like this - very visual, and I could feel the weather. Also like the finishing couplet (plus a couple of words) of this sonnet. |
| Posted by Julie Adams on 02/16/11 at 03:29 AM I love the flow of this piece, to and fro, push and pull, wax and wane, this piece speaks of connections I too long for. Nice work, peace, jewels |
| Posted by Ann Krischus on 02/24/11 at 02:28 PM I have an unspoken conversation just like this one taking place with a loved one. The years took us in two different directions. She is in every poem I write. I miss her. Thanks for giving me your words, they are like a salve for my own. |
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