[Stylist] a poem

[Shawn Jacobson]

Anne
Thanks for sharing, an interesting poem.  It is nice when your imagination can rise above spleen.

Shawn Jacobson
sdj60259 at aol.com


-----Original Message-----
From: Ann Chiappetta via Stylist <stylist at nfbnet.org>
To: 'Writers' Division Mailing List' <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Cc: Ann Chiappetta <anniecms64 at gmail.com>
Sent: Mon, Dec 5, 2022 1:46 pm
Subject: [Stylist] a poem

<!--#yiv3033921625 filtered {}#yiv3033921625 filtered {}#yiv3033921625 p.yiv3033921625MsoNormal, #yiv3033921625 li.yiv3033921625MsoNormal, #yiv3033921625 div.yiv3033921625MsoNormal {margin:0in;font-size:11.0pt;font-family:"Calibri", sans-serif;}#yiv3033921625 span.yiv3033921625EmailStyle17 {font-family:"Calibri", sans-serif;color:windowtext;}#yiv3033921625 .yiv3033921625MsoChpDefault {font-family:"Calibri", sans-serif;}#yiv3033921625 filtered {}#yiv3033921625 div.yiv3033921625WordSection1 {}-->At Sixty-FiveHenri Cole - 1955-  It was all so different than he expected.For years he’d been agnostic; now he meditated.For years he’d dreamed of being an artist living abroad;now he reread Baudelaire, Emerson, Bishop.He’d never considered marriage . . .Still, a force through green did fuse.Yes, he wore his pants looser.No, he didn’t do crosswords in bed.No, he didn’t file for Social Security.Yes, he danced alone in the bathroom mirror,since younger men expected generosity.Long ago, his thesis had been described as promising,“with psychological heat and the consumingwill of nature.” Now he thought, “This then is all.”  On the rooftop, in pale flickering moonlight,he pondered the annihilated earth.At the pond, half-a-mile across was nottoo far to swim because he seemed to begoing toward something. Yes, the love impulsehad frequently revealed itself in terms of conflict;but this was an old sound, an austere element.Yes, he’d been no angel and so what . . .Yes, tiny moths emerged from the hall closet.Yes, the odor of kombucha made him sick.Yes, he lay for hours pondering the treetops,the matriarchal clouds, the moon.Though his spleen collected melancholy trophies,his imagination was not impeded.  Copyright © 2022 by Henri Cole. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on December 5, 2022, by the Academy of American Poets.  Henri ColeHenri Cole was born in Fukuoka, Japan, in 1956 and raised in Virginia.  Ann M. Chiappetta, M.S.Making Meaningful ConnectionsThrough Media 914.393.6605 USAAnniecms64 at gmail.comAll things Annie: www.annchiappetta.com   _______________________________________________
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