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What the Married Poet Cannot Say

by Ken Harnisch

Cloaked in domesticity
The married poet is not permitted
An avenue to an open heart

There is a trade-off
When you settle for the peace;
The poet must close off the best
Of what sleeps in his unmapped rooms

She deserves better
Than to see him linger
In the past. But he deserved
Better there, so they are even

And it is the poet’s way to wander
Hither and yon; to pose the what-ifs
And if /thens; to look back and
Write his different epitaphs

But if he has any sense
Realize his wilding rivers
Had no better recourse than to
Have emptied in this placid gulf

Where the tide seldom rises
And the storms seldom blow
And the wind is but a zephyr
Ruffling graying hair

And only the words he
Puts to paper when alone
Can quell the silent cyclones still
Roaring in his love-starved soul.

02/02/2015

Posted on 02/02/2015
Copyright © 2025 Ken Harnisch

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Britt Zimmerman on 02/02/15 at 06:46 PM

Very Beautiful! Love it!

Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 02/02/15 at 08:39 PM

That first line sure puts a blanket on a relationship - good way to set the mood for this repression. I had the gal who used to cut my hair ask me what gave me a thrill one day - she had been in a relationship a short time and already she knew she was doing what he wanted and not what she wanted. She married the guy. Go figure. I had to think about that for awhile. Those last two lines have an energy looking for an outlet. Good luck.

Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 02/03/15 at 08:32 AM

Interesting perspective Ken. Having been there years ago, marriage certainly changes the dynamics of what we do as artists. In my case, my ex thought poetry was a total waste of time, as it didn't pay the rent and bills. Just doing something for the pleasure of it was beyond her. After all these years, we're still good friends, and age/wisdom have somewhat changed her perspective, even without financial gain. :)

Posted by Alison McKenzie on 02/04/15 at 05:36 PM

Another poet friend of mine calls is "writing in ash", i.e., the ashes of the past, and processing those. So if he posts something about yearning, or remembering, fondly or not so fondly, he just calls it ash-writing, and I know what he means. It's not a lament, exactly, but it's a piece of what still needs to be expressed. The thing is, I've always found this curious as a writer. The writing, for me, is but a moment, maybe a few. But when it's written and done, so am I. Yet, there are the words, "written down in black and white" as it were, and for eternity it would seem we, the writers, are still expressing it - when actually, we're done. It's the reader's job to carry the expression forward.

Posted by John Ilotan on 02/05/15 at 02:10 PM

Words escape me. You've captured the the heart of this subtle discontent.

Posted by Steve Michaels on 02/13/15 at 04:16 AM

That last stanza is Scarlett Johansson naked on a plate!

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