I took up the guitar again after forty years during my vow of silence. And I really couldn’t have got through the pandemic alone without the cheerful accomplished music of Beatrix.
Hope you like my poem below it references some issues of my complex PTSD as do many of my poems. There are more verses but I am still tidying them up. My poetry has become more prolific but less tightly produced since the end of the pandemic. If you want to see some others of mine look for them on the AudaciArt newsletters from the pandemic. Without the help of those Audacious Women I wouldn’t have got started.
Crooning and Crying
By Patricia Goldberg ©2021
Hunched shoulders hugging my guitar
Hiding my shame,
Perched up on the prow,
Watched over by the high chimney,
Filling the firth with atomic particles.
Where are you My LHC?
Needing a hand here from Mr Universe.
Still here strumming
In the silence of the town,
My hurt is poured out in the
Twanging of Andy’s Hovis Lane song,
Calling my boy home with
Make the Gates Wide
For Christmas Tide,
To the cobbled streets of this little dale.
Why is my son rocking like a stone?
He sways to and fro like a flapping sail,
Glazed eyes and open mouthed grin
From the reinforcement into concrete
Of the wrong things.
Vanished spirit, soul, self.
What happened to me has happened to him,
And we are not happy
Nor have the happ
To succeed.
Sapphire Sea 