Vox Populi
A curated webspace for Poetry, Politics, and Nature with over 6,000,000 visitors since 2014 and over 9,000 archived posts.
Elizabeth Romero: This is me without you
And into this silence the cat pours
His blessing
—
She stood there mildly like a tree
The seed of her rebirth
Resting lightly
On the branches of her soul
—
The asphalt is stupid with sunshine
—
We have to make do with
The plodding reaching
Terrifying trudging
Steps of time
—
This is me without you
See?
Nothing there
And when I reappear
I have to love the air
This is me without you
Only what others see
Behind this me are pictures of you
Pictures of me and you
—
This is the hungry moon
The cold moon
The sky turns greenish gold at dawn
Venus lingers in the bare trees
Like a diamond ring
On a skeletal hand
—
I cannot be with the birds
With their mites and their feathers
And their hot little bodies
Their impassioned but inscrutable
Comments on their world
—
The mouths of the clouds
Fly open at daybreak
As if they are surprised in the storm’s wake
Like a liar at the principal’s office:
It wasn’t me.
Copyright 2023 Elizabeth Romero
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“This is me without you
See?
Nothing there
And when I reappear
I have to love the air”
Beautiful, and oh!
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Love this. Of course.
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Betsy is great, isn’t she?
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Looks good and very poetic to me.
In the prolonged blackout in Aleppo during the intensity of clashes some time i see from the window red hair floating in the darkness. But i had never seen the face nor the figure.
Poetry is a way of salvation in all times.
I noticed that the cat is a male , with his, in Arabic cats mostly are females.
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Thanks, Saleh. Are you back in Aleppo?
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Not yet.
But that was 5 years ago.
No more military activities in these days. Only the sanctions made life impossible. My brother reported me when looking for some one who can remove one of his bad teeth.
As we say USA showed us the stars of the noon time.
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Wow! But I think I always say that after reading her poems on Vox Populi. Thank you.
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Betsy Romero is one of my favorite poets.
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Wowser!
This is the news that never stops being news. Personal, like everybody’s!
The birds: “ With their mites and their feathers And their hot little bodies” (I first thought she said “miles” —that too.)
So pleased you publish this sort of poem.
Hold it high as the clouds any unlikely day.
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Thanks, Sean. I’ve long admired Elizabeth’s work. She publishes exclusively in VP.
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