Of Old - a poem

I am used to missing you.
It is not a new feeling—
years as friends-apart now surpass
our friends-together years.
I will always love you
and I will always miss you,
almost as if you were dead—
except it’s reciprocal
like two friends

buried in adjacent plots,
together in spirit yet
permanently separated.
I don’t get off the phone
and miss you “anew” but “of old”—
all over again. I am relegated to it.
I am used to missing you.
But not so used to it
that I don’t.

- Ellen H.
[I'm in a phase of going through old poems and reworking them as well as writing more new ones. Time away can bring fresh inspiration!]

Spines like Flowers - a poem

O bless your brave spine
so tall, so straight
like a stem in a vase

I'd water that spine
that stick-straight stem
and pray it won't bend

Unlike the tulip
Fix your eyes above
Keep your head up, love

O bless your brave spine
belly in tight, such strong height...
May it hold you up through another long night.


- Ellen H.

“Neologism” - a poem

ne·ol·o·gism, noun:  a newly coined word or expression.

"Neologism"

He says it’s not a word

I say let’s adopt it

and make it one

enthusiastically take it in and spoil it

because it’s cute and it deserves to belong somewhere

I wasn’t even there

when he heard her use it

but I don’t care

I will take it under my poetic wing and snuggle it

and declare

I like it.

Can we keep it?

--Ellen H.