but the potential is there

This man i passed in his street level window
in his old-man blue and white striped underpants
plays guitar to sheet music propped up by useless
paper stacks. In my world flowers overstay their welcome
and die, casually, a little bit every day
and i swim among the petals, like beautiful regrets,
among the art and the lies …
but the potential is there
like the smell of garlic wafting from an overcrowded
kitchen pot … this man finds a chord, i hear it from
a mile away and cry.

 

written 2.25.13

18 thoughts on “but the potential is there

  1. So beautiful, Jody. So evocative.
    This inspired a response–what your poem says to me.
    ~Anna's Granddaughter, Sherry Cox [email me]

    A sideways glance
    A pause to inspect further
    Recognition and regret
    Diffusing into comprehension
    Release into acceptance in the sun…
    As she slips into her rosy sunset gown.
    Inspiration and gracious beauty
    Infuse our being, wash the Soul
    We are summoned forward then to ground the Spirit
    By the aromas of the hearth, but we recall.

  2. So beautiful, Jody. So evocative.
    This inspired a response–what your poem says to me.
    ~Anna's Granddaughter, Sherry Cox [email me]

    A sideways glance
    A pause to inspect further
    Recognition and regret
    Diffusing into comprehension
    Release into acceptance in the sun…
    As she slips into her rosy sunset gown.
    Inspiration and gracious beauty
    Infuse our being, wash the Soul
    We are summoned forward then to ground the Spirit
    By the aromas of the hearth, but we recall.

  3. really nice….i like the turn from the man to the talk of flowers and then the come back to the man…as it allows us to see the same in him…and ending on how the music moved you is a great touch…

  4. really nice….i like the turn from the man to the talk of flowers and then the come back to the man…as it allows us to see the same in him…and ending on how the music moved you is a great touch…

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