Hang-Gliding

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Mike Daniels
poet & writer
Posts: 113
Joined: Wed Sep 20, 2006 10:15 am
Location: The English Queen's Arse, Tongue First 'n' Lovin' It ...
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Hang-Gliding

Post by Mike Daniels »

Hang-Gliding

His life in retrospect,
hang-glides down from the heights
on a sail of remembrance.
Spends ten minutes at Arnhem
with passing strangers -
it would be more, but boredom sets in
and they disengage,
trying kindly to retreat.
Thirty more he spends
in regalia at the Cenotaph
before his TV set, avoiding my looks.

He just filled in the space
between then and now
with trivia and the usual,
beers on a friday night
with mates from work
where he hated his boss,
the big game of a weekend.
Marriage, kids, divorce after domestics -
he never quite found a way
of keeping away from violence.
It took up residence in his fists
and a black spot in his mind.

And I recall -
a fringe of a smile to his lips
hiding the truth behind his teeth
and those soot black eyes
slowly fading into grey.
We were almost friends, I think.
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Catherine Edmunds
artist, poet & writer
Posts: 428
Joined: Fri May 05, 2006 8:05 pm
Location: north east england
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Post by Catherine Edmunds »

An equally moving, in its own way, counterpoint to the poem about your mother.

"We were almost friends, I think" is a devastating line. It contains such a mass of lost opportunities; lost possibilities; lost hopes. Yet the 'almost' is better than nothing. It's a something to hold onto. A connection.
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