Karin Gottshall More Lies
Sometimes I say I’m going to meet my sister at the café–
even though I have no sister–just because it’s such
a beautiful thing to say. I’ve always thought so, ever since
I read a novel in which two sisters were constantly meeting
in cafes. Today, for example, I walked alone
on the wet sidewalk, wearing my rain boots, expecting
someone might ask where I was headed. I bought
a steno pad and a watch battery, the store windows
fogged up. Rain in April is a kind of promise, and it costs
nothing. I carried a bag of books to the cafe and ordered
tea. I like a place that’s lit by lamps. I like a place
where you can hear people talk about small things,
like the difference between azure and cerulean,
and the price of tulips. It’s going down. I watched
someone who could be my sister walk in, shaking the rain
from her hair. I thought, even now florists are filling
their coolers with tulips, five dollars a bundle. All over
the city there are sisters. Any one of them could be mine.
–Karin Gottshall — More Lies
What I like about this poem is its honesty and the fresh way that the poet tells a story about loneliness using beautiful, alive images. I know I have some poets who read this blog, so I’d especially like to hear from you about this one. Does this poem resonate with you? Please share your thoughts in the comment section. Or if you have one of your own poems you’d like to contribute, I’d love that too!
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Check out Karin Gottshall’s website here.
P.S. I am an ex-shrink who writes award-winning novels. Check out my books here.
That is quite a nice poem, and I like it a lot. Personally, I find some of the line breaks distracting, but what I really like about the poem is the way it moves with the narrator. I love following her down the street, into a cafe, watching people come in. It’s wonderful.
I don’t write very much poetry, but I went to look for something on my computer. I did find something, and I *think* I wrote it but I’m not sure! I find this rather amusing. So here it is. And it might be mine.
You have the sun in you
The red-gold of your hair
Your skin that radiates warmth
And your sky-blue eyes that are home
I don’t understand
How even songs that aren’t love songs
Make me think of you
There’s something about your back
in that white tank top
something about your smile when you turn your head over your shoulder
You’re always in on something
and I’m not
But your back, that tank top, your smile
For all the reasons you find me laughable
I want more of you
Hi Sonje,
Well if you did indeed write it, I think it’s quite a nice poem. And it’s still a nice poem even if you didn’t. Thanks for sharing it, regardless. I like what you said about following the poet down the street in the cafe poem. I hadn’t thought of it that way and I really like that idea.
From one of our lovely email subscribers:
“Oh, Susan,
Ms. Gottshall’s poem touched my heart, and the photo of the red tulips helped to more vividly install the image of love and companionship and the depths of her emotions. Will definitely be checking out her website. My own beloved soul-mate’s name was Karin, spelt the same way, and she was quite fond of tulips. She’s been deceased now, almost as many years as she lived. Though we were lovers, in many ways, we were the closest of friends as well. We were the sister that neither of us had, so I can identify. What a lovely poem ! Thanks a million.
A few months ago I composed this poem, one of several that I have written through the inspiration of Karin’s memory. It was well received by the audience at the Monday night “Spoken Word” group here in Paris, and I’d like to share it with you, if I may.
IN THE FOYER OF MY HEART By Trélys DuPré
There was ne’er a more enchanting time for me-
than when my head was in her lap
as she read me poetry…
I’d close my eyes and let her soft voice
resonate me free,
to float on words, like sailing ships,
on a sea of tranquillity…
There will nary be another soul,
who’ll touch me quite as deep…
Her steady love was with me,
whether waking or asleep…
Her understanding and compassion
were always mine to keep…
I knew the instant our eyes met,
I’d have to take the leap;
And though she’s only with me now,
in fond memory…
and in the foyer of my heart
where she sits and smiles at me,
her gentle spirit visits e’er to keep me company
and reminisce about the loving years she spent with me..
Her infectious laughter echoes, ever in my head…
and often tucks me in at night,
when I go off to bed.”
This is from another one of our email subscribers. We’re getting some lovely shares, don’t you think?
“Hi Susan. I love this poem–you hear the wistful longing and the fantasy that tries to ease.
Here’s my poem:
She still surprises me, the wrinkled old woman
Who returns me gaze from the mirror
With her thinning hair, drooping breasts and mottled skin.
“Are you looking for someone?” I want to ask
Because she is clearly a stranger. I don’t know her.
Behind me eyes, I am still young
Still strong and limber in body
Quick and lively of mind, and feel betrayed
When knees give way and words evade me.
It must be that me spirit lives in Eternal Spring.”
Yet another:
“Susan,
Thank you for sharing that. It promoted thoughts within. I have two sisters and one half sister and neither of them communicate with me right now. But they will, I know they will. I will be checking out this blog. I loved that, “Rain in April is a kind of a promise and it costs nothing.” The poem very much stirred my inner writer and that is what I need. Thank you so much!
Laureen”
Hi Laureen,
I love that the poem stirred your “inner writer.” I think it’s always a good day when that happens. 🙂 Susan