The Bureau

..written a few years ago...

The Bureau

While listening to some Al Jarreau,

I saw his R&B rhythm

climb the stairs,

stirring the attic air of yesteryear,

and finds me

sitting on the old sofa

watching dust particles

move frantically in the sunlight.

In between the notes,

I can still feel the way

you would playfully

muss my hair.

^^^

Just behind boxes of books

and records - old 78's and 45's-

bought when I was just a kid,

stood, dust covered,

but still proud,

our 6 drawer bureau.

The one we found at the curb

while trash picking

and made its way

into our first apartment.

As the music turned to

“Nights In White Satin”,

by the Moody Blues,

I wondered if the poem-

it was the first

I ever wrote you-

could still be seen

on the back wall of the top drawer.

^^^

I wrote it there

because you said it would be

your special, secret drawer.

The place where you would keep

the things that meant the most to you.

And I, in a typical man-ish way,

had to be included

in your secret place.

^^^

Its’s ironic how dust particles

swirling in the music of long ago,

and breathed in by a wondering mind,

awakens or perhaps more real,

plucks the cobwebs found there,

so that memories vibrate

and taunt.

^^^

About a week after we split,

I found the bureau

standing on the street corner

once again;

like me,

put out to trash.

I brought it home

and some years later,

older, and battered

from moves too many,

found its way into the attic.

^^^

I remember well the day

I lugged it

up the attic steps.

In the dim light,

those long years ago,

I looked into your secret drawer.

The poem was still there-

“I am incomplete

without you,

come,

together let’s make

the universe sing anew.”-

sitting inside a

carved shaped heart.

^^^

I saw it then,

somewhat more faded,

your reply.

Inside a carved tear drop you said;

“Red, why?

Why did you break my heart?

You promised you would always,

always write me poetry”

^^^

Strange, as I read

in the attic’s

dim and shadowy light,

the music changed to Dr. John’s

“Black Nights”

~~redzone 9.22.12

Author's Note

thanks for reading... found this while rooting through my journal..
can't beat Dr John for the blues... enjoy

Reviews

[Lydia Shutter]

Your words create a pathway filled with incredible imagery, Curt. Music can take us back....till we almost feel the person we heard the melody with the first time sitting there. Sometimes bringing a smile, sometimes a regret, but always part of who we are, music is the backdrop of our lives, Curt. Romantic and poignant.....touching and so very "nice". As for this Riverz phantom of WC, I would simply delete his "review" because it is pure trash. Keep smilin', my friend. Lydi**

[redzone]

I thought about the delete button, but thought it better for everyone who reads to see this and my response. I am considering copying and pasteing into a write entitled Riverz of Ignorance and posting here so all can see. I really think we need to stop attacks and set good standards for reviews. Not liking a poem, but there should be substance as to why and should not be personal attack or even who wrote the poem.

Thanks Lydi, your words always make me aware, smile and think .. that's long for "nice" :0)

[Lydia Shutter]

You are probably right. Putting the spotlight on his ignorance is probably the wise route. "Riverz of Ignorance" do flow here....unfortunately.

[Riverz]

you should practice more writing your age and save the page layout junk for those still young enough to be that shallow

[redzone]

what the hell is this supposed to mean??? are you stupid or is this just how intelligent you are??? personal attacks are not reviews of a poem and its content.. why would I even have to say this???

[willweb]

Man, I just love your poetry. I need to check your page more. You always create a wonderful maze of words that I have so much fun finding my way around in. This is sad, but in a memory form...well, I guess that is still pretty damn sad. I like how you have snuck a few good songs in and how you use them is fantastic. Very cool Mr. Redzone.

[redzone]

thanks Will, glad you enjoyed the read... the bureau existed by the way, as too the poems that we each wrote inside the drawer... but when I moved once again a few years ago I had to give it up... thanks again..

[jacob erin-cilberto]

"i was in the right place, but it must have been the wrong time"---(Dr. John)

wow this poem is filled with regret...you quit writing poems for her, and she left you out in the street with the bureau...her heart having moved on...and yet the keepsake of her is in your attic, that top floor of your memory, watching the dust particles fly. like the tear in your eye...as you sing the blues of a poet with regret.

excellent write.

i really felt this one.

[redzone]

I never thought I would become like my father, "master of the home", but I did. Yes there was deep regret and pain, I promised we would be equals, which became the metaphor of "always writing her poetry"... but while I did want to change the world, I didn't want to change the way I treated her (what I was doing, or thought, etc was more important)... and so she felt left out, alone. She found a lover. You know Jacob a man doesn't have to be physically abusive, to be abusive, a monster. Yes, I have deep regret for this. The best I can say for myself is that I have learned and changed, but she had moved on. I got a much deeper understanding of what patriarchy is and the ugliness it brings to half of humanity and the urgent necessities to get rid of it.

So I am really glad you felt this one Jacob, thank you for your words...