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Andreas Simic
M    Andreas Simic is the author of the Emotional Legacy Handbook and the MERISTIC Approach to Financial Literacy

Poems

Mary-Eliz Mar 2018
Hide and Seek
Charles Simic, 1938
Haven’t found anyone
From the old gang.
They must be still in hiding,
Holding their breaths
And trying not to laugh.

Our street is down on its luck
With windows broken
Where on summer nights
One heard couples arguing,
Or saw them dancing to the radio.

The redhead we were
All in love with,
Who sat on the fire escape,
Smoking late into the night,
Must be in hiding too.

The skinny boy
On crutches
Who always carried a book,
May not have
Gotten very far.

Darkness comes early
This time of year
Making it hard
To recognize familiar faces
In those of strangers.
One of my favorite poems is by Charles Simic ("The Stone") so when this came up as poem-of-the-day I had to check it out - I sometimes skip over them. I liked it, especially the first stanza. Hide and Seek was a big part of my childhood. We lived out in the country so we seven siblings mostly played together - simple games like hide-and-seek, kick the can, etc. I wasn't nearly as taken with it as "The Stone". What I do really like is what he said about it. It makes me feel better about the fact that often I am the same way about "being in the dark" as to when and how a poem began. I rarely put a date when I write and often find the bare bones of poems I had begun but forgotten. But I don't mind joining Simic in his somewhat mysterious place :-)

About This Poem

“My poems are a mix of autobiography and pure invention and often take years of tinkering before they are ready, so I rarely remember when and how they began and do not keep old drafts to help me do so. I like being in the dark as to where I’m going and where I’ll end up. And I hope my readers feel the same.”
—Charles Simic
N R Whyte Apr 2012
Before the fall rains come,
Let’s have one more picnic,
Now that the leaves are turning color
And the grass is still green in places.
   – by Charles Simic


A hot day brings the summer alcohol
Out of hiding.
Surrounded,
Each ice cube vanishes into my glass,
Like children running from the year’s last
class,
Mingling with the ***.
I relish laying
My hand on your naked chest
In the August sun,
Before the fall rains come.

Layered with a glaze of sweat
Neither yours nor mine but both,
My eyelids slide like honey
Over my quiet eyes,
Relaxing my thighs,
Daydreaming of earlier, when
You said to me
In the same tone as one with
Only a couple pages left in his comic,
“Let’s have one more picnic.”

Tomorrow, I’ll pack a basket
With some entertaining food:
Whipped cream, chocolate strawberries.
Under your tongue they’ll disappear
From here, here, and here.
(It’s duller
Without them.)
I’ll be excited looking around at
The land in a riot of multicolour,
Now that the leaves are turning colour.

But I’ll realize it isn’t you
Specifically;
Just that you were there, and I was there.
And we’ll realize we’re in love, however,
You or I could be whoever.
Gazing at each other, still with good graces
And moderate tolerance we’ll think,
“The sky is partially blue,
There are half-smiles on our faces,
And the grass is still green in places.”