Marlene, can you see me?

    can you feel the touch of my hand?

    does life revolve or go up and down?

Are the flowers blooming?

    and are you pretty today Marlene?

Are your hands soft?

    and gentle fingers, fine and young?

Does your hair hang loosely, 

    falling on your shoulders?

Is your face fresh and ruddy

    your lips like petals

Do your eyes sparkle

    glisten with joy and love?

Can I hold you in my arms Marlene?

    will you understand?

I cannot enjoy you without Marlene

    I cannot feel your youth

And you are young Marlene

    and I am old

Any you are warm Marlene

    and I am cold



.   .   .

Authors Note: I found two old journals of verse that I wrote in the 1980’s during my thirties and even younger and I was struck by their freshness and minimalist naiveté.

I have enjoyed reading them, almost as though they were written by someone else. They speak of aspirations, of faith and hope which is what I believe we all need right now. There is a nice Kerouac naturalness about them too so I’m going to put them here on my site for people to read and make their own mind up about them. Catalogued and Categorised – THE LOST JOURNALS 1980’s

Also, I am reminded of the great wordsmith and troubadour BOB DYLAN, a personal mentor and inspiration to me, who has said that on reading the early songs he wrote back in his twenties from albums like the Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan – that he doesn’t recognise the person who wrote them anymore. Of course Dylan is in fact the supreme enigma and says a lot of stuff but then we all do, don’t we?

We all metamorphosise, evolve in our appearance and the words we use but essentially remain the same. These poems, essays and thoughts were just skimming stones I hurled at eternity’s misty shoreline and in many days I have found them again. A cluster of stones, returned by the tide and left upon the stoney beach.

Different sizes, colours, shapes, some rough hewn, some smoothed by the eternal sea.

‘ . .. make up your own mind, all the time .. . ‘



About edenbray

I'm a writer ... I write .. . I’m not sure why I ever stopped, was it 9/11? .. . edenbray is born ugly, wet and covered in blood, mucous and bodily functions ~ the effluence of my short life .. . I am a Writer and Artist since 1966 - I'm an avid Blogger ~ I write lots of poems, written essays, articles, reviews, opinion + comment .. . I have had many poems selected for Anthologies of verse and recently have published many of my poems in 24+ themed booklets ... please ask for details - join the shebang by leaving me a marker with a 'like' or a comment for my ego and encouragement and thanks for listening - I really value your interest ~ edenbray
This entry was posted in edenbray BACK CATALOGUE, edenbray POMES, THE LOST JOURNALS - 1980's and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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