A Bit of the Bard

I wrote poetry when I was young,
I’d carry a book of sonnets in my purse.
Friends would gather
in each other’s living rooms,
read poetry and divide up roles.

We’d read Shakespeare and modern plays.
Even the shy ones, who would never act upon the stage,
would giggle with delight and spew out lines,
sometimes carrying leading roles!
Those informal nights were a delight.

Time passed, and we scattered, going different ways.
Responsibility, careers, sometimes ambition,
sucked up the time.
I ceased to carry sonnets in my purse,
or jot down verses that flowed through my mind.

I’m much older now than I used to be.
Some euphemistically say
“more mature” is a less strident phrase.
I’ve begun carrying a notebook and a pen
when I’m at home and when I’m away.

I spend time waiting for vans and friends.
I wait in offices, a lot it seems, these days.
I scribble thoughts that dash and dart
and let them surprise me
when they are penned.

I write it down, then think it out.
It shows me feelings, thoughts
I didn’t know I thought.
Occasionally a phrase escapes,
a succinct summary of special grace, capturing reality,
whether wished or anchored in actuality.

I like the rhythm.
I enjoy cadence as much as rhyme,
syncopation and inflection on a verse.
I like to break a sentence
to emphasize
a special thought
or coloration of meaning,
a vision or feeling that comes to mind

Friends I haven’t heard from in years
are surfacing regularly, now it seems.
Perhaps, we’ll try another stint,
set out the tea pot, the silver set,
gather informally and chat.
I hope someone pulls some sonnets out
and begins to read.
Others will probably jump in
and lend whatever talent they can find
to utter some old or current bard’s limber line.

If we stumble and miss the beat,
botch a cue, step on someone's line,
we'll recover,
it won't be a disaster.
Among friends, what does
a little laughter matter!
---Faith Chatham
copyright 2009