For the Lady who Posts Poems on her Front Door Only to be Asked to Increase the Frequency of the Posting

 

Sometimes someone will knock and ask her to post poems more frequently.

 

 

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Posted in early February 2020

 

 

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She also leaves the names of poets on my answering machine in the tones of someone speaking of a lover. Which, of course they are.

 

 

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You can hear the rustling of paper.  To make you long for a particular book you used to have.

 

 

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When I call her, she will say:  “Listen to this line….”

 

 

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She is also building a garden.  That is how I met her:  she was poring over a catalogue of exquisite rose varieties.

 

 

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Jane, come away from the edge of the city and live near me!

 

 

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12 thoughts on “For the Lady who Posts Poems on her Front Door Only to be Asked to Increase the Frequency of the Posting

    1. If you mean the poem, I agree! It was my friend, Jane, who left this poem’s name on my answering machine, too! Thanks for reading!

      1. Yes. I find the poem matches my daily reality except I don’t dance much! The art I love, of course….

    1. Yes, hopeful is a good word. I also find it realistic. Some people say that realistic is no different from tragic. Dreams are often easier and more pleasant than life. But life is everything and why not be hopeful?

      1. That’s sad if they say realistic is tragic. I guess everyone has their own interpretation. A poet that puts poems on their door sounds like the kind to spread the love around.

      2. She spreads the beauty around, I would say. Sometimes it is love. And I would say that realistic is tragic more than it is not tragic because we don’t control a whole lot and because we are going to die. Tragic is an overall sense. But not day to day necessarily. Day to day it is as the poem says: let’s get on with the laundry and let the nuns walk about in their habits if they want to………

  1. Tha k you so much for the poem, its neighbourly nudge and the pictorial juxtapositions. Tho would have liked some billowing white sheets. Have loved the Wilbur poem for years but hadn’t read of his death 2 years ago.

  2. My dear cousin, Jane, is always at her best when sharing warm feelings and generous thoughts with her friends, neighbours, and passing strangers. She might burst open if she couldn’t express her wondrous way of loving and being.

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