In a few days will leave for a much needed dose of Italia. Will spend time in Tuscany and Umbria, our usual haunts; also for the first time will visit Bologna. I’ve written several poems inspired by past visits, upon ancient tiles, rain in the piazza, as when you were here, among them. I am so looking forward to this break from the every day routine, and the inspiration it provides to reflect, write, and recharge. Oh, yes, and to eat. It’s all about eating. Mangia!
I want to touch someone
and be touched in return
to feel the soft skin again
warm and good
But it is not mine now
only the memory of it
once a thing I knew
now in a place I know
is not there
but look anyway
hoping to find it
believing anything
is possible
©Daniel von der Embse
A friend sent this to me today. It is a lovely poem. A good thought to start a new week.
©Daniel von der Embse
©Daniel von der Embse
In moonlight
the madness comes,
calling up the demons
my brain swollen
with secrets
too dark for daylight
their nightly telling
the only comfort
until morning,
when my soul,
sucked clean
can sleep
©Daniel von der Embse
Lying in bed
contemplating
a cigarette ash,
lost time comes
racing past my head
like a boomerang
barely visible
through the smoke
I snatch it
into the bank,
saved for when
I need to borrow
some back
©Daniel von der Embse
The “phantasy” referred to in this poem is the Phantasy Quartet for Oboe and Strings, Op. 2, by Benjamin Britten. My daughter played this piece in her senior recital at Oberlin. (This You Tube recording is not her, but is very beautifully performed.)
A phantasy is playing
too quiet to hear
until I use my heart
to really listen
Spirits lifted by pure sound
I arrive just in time
to turn around and go again
until I can’t tell where
Is this home?
It looks familiar through the tears,
but I cannot stay long –
it is time to run back
to the song that is my real home,
where I can rest unafraid
to greet the sadness
awaiting with sweet comfort
upon my return
Poem ©Daniel von der Embse
I’m reposting this poem to mark a different anniversary: It was 39 years ago that I met the woman who became my best friend and, later, my wife. It took another 23 years after we met for us to become life partners, and I have thrown more curve balls her way than Sandy Koufax, but I am so grateful that our relationship has endured so much for so long. This poem is about the day we met, and our first and only date, on her eighteenth birthday, 39 years ago.
there you were (for Gina)
Big hair and bare midriff
a creature from another world
lounging on the steps of the student union
Who are you?
Where do you come from?
Questions for another time
For now we sit and smoke and I imagine
how it must feel slow dancing with you
my body held tight by your runner’s frame
On your eighteenth birthday
we get high over the barber shop
where I hope to keep you up
all night celebrating
You are exotic in black underwear
leaving me completely powerless
But I am not the lover you imagined
You wish me goodnight
not saying if you will return
only that you will see me again
on the steps of the student union
©Daniel von der Embse
underneath the flag
we all hide and wait in fear
the war mongers win
writing in airplanes 