"buttonhole" poems
44
If she had been the Mistletoe
And I had been the Rose—
How gay upon your table
My velvet life to close—
Since I am of the Druid,
And she is of the dew—
I’ll deck Tradition’s buttonhole—
And send the Rose to you.
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(Handbook for Quarreling Lovers)I THOUGHT of offering you apothegms.
I might have said, "Dogs bark and the wind carries it away."
I might have said, "He who would make a door of gold must knock a nail in every day."
So easy, so easy it would have been to inaugurate a high impetuous moment for you to look on before the final farewells were spoken.
You who assumed the farewells in the manner of people buying newspapers and reading the headlines-and all peddlers of gossip who buttonhole each other and wag their heads saying, "Yes, I heard all about it last Wednesday."
I considered several apothegms.
"There is no love but service," of course, would only initiate a quarrel over who has served and how and when.
"Love stands against fire and flood and much bitterness," would only initiate a second misunderstanding, and bickerings with lapses of silence.
What is there in the Bible to cover our case, or Shakespere? What poetry can help? Is there any left but Epictetus?
Since you have already chosen to interpret silence for language and silence for despair and silence for contempt and silence for all things but love,
Since you have already chosen to read ashes where God knows there was something else than ashes,
Since silence and ashes are two identical findings for your eyes and there are no apothegms worth handing out like a hung jury's verdict for a record in our own hearts as well as the community at large,
I can only remember a Russian peasant who told me his grandfather warned him: If you ride too good a horse you will not take the straight road to town.
It will always come back to me in the blur of that hokku: The heart of a woman of thirty is like the red ball of the sun seen through a mist.
Or I will remember the witchery in the eyes of a girl at a barn dance one winter night in Illinois saying: Put off the wedding five times and nobody comes to it.
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I’ve been mistaken for a conquistador
When really I just break hearts by accident
There’s no evil in my deeds
And no wickedness in my words
I’m just looking for lovers who are lost
I’ve been trying to fix the unbroken
And all I do is break what can’t be fixed
There’s no cleverness in my words
And no thoroughness in my deeds
I’m just a lost soul looking for love
So you will know me by the trail of broken hearts
And the flower in my buttonhole
And that smug look on my face
And the searchlight in my mind
Aimed at nothing in particular
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 9:16 AM UTC
I know that that heavy burden has been clawing inside your heart,
Years has passed,
You never tell,
I never asked.
I've seen your fall from the catastrophe,
And I know your pain in immense.
But what worse it could be,
I am standing helplessly,
Feeling like a *****
But not doing anything.
I wish you'd have allowed me just for once
To enter there
Where you have suppressed your pain so hard.
Just tell me once,
how is it valid
to share the laughter aloud
but when it comes to tears,
(your tears)
You back off.
Just tell me once,
Why is it easy
to talk about all the beauty and the bounty the life has given,
to buttonhole me with all your talks,
Squabbling around the irrelevant sometimes,
But it scares you to talk about the story of your scars.
Just tell me once,
how is it fair
that my pain, my trouble, my problem becomes ours,
and yours is always yours.
Just tell me once,
why you are so hard to explore.
It's been years of our being together,
why you are always this mysterious.
Just tell me once
how is it relevant in our strong bonding of ages.
May be it's too painful to talk about,
May be it's me who isn't worthy enough,
Whatsoever it may be,
but I know you ain't much healed,
And it bothers me.
I can't assure you that unveiling your scars will heal you definitely
But the one thing I am sure of:
It feels good to be listened,
listened in enchantment.
I know it because you do the same to me
And It bolsters my strength.
Honey!
We all have our shadows
Pour it out &
Burn them down.
May be then you'll feel a little lighter.
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 5:38 AM UTC
The scent
of an orchid
Pinned to war criminals
Buttonhole the tor of either/or
Fell lapel
smile say cheese
See the teeth crepuscular urns urge
They speak
And raise the untruth
Clubfooted
The living dread
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 7:11 PM UTC
Chances are, you have to do a 'search', then order one on line. If you're under 60 years of age, you probably never heard of it, anyway.
Walking in to a pharmacy, or drug store, asking a young clerk, who is in their late teens, or early twenties, or even 40's to 50's, knowing very well what their reponse will be before you ask the question, becomes'comical', seeing the puzzled expression on their faces, especially when the companies web site indicates the store has it "in stock. A"simple little tool", inexpensive, but to some, of which I am one, 'priceless.' It can relieve a huge amount of frustration in seconds, put a smile on your face, make your day "bright" again, saves time, can help prevent being late for appointments, and it has been around for centuries, long before the 'zipper' was invented. Approximately eight inches long, solid handle, with a curved wire tip, two and a quarter inches in length. I introduce you, to,"The Button Hook!", Tah-Dah!
This "simple little tool" is used by many who are afflicted with such maladies, as arthritis, or have neuropathy issues in their hands, making it difficult to button a shirt, pants, etc. Just insert the wire end through the buttonhole, loop it around the button, pull it through.
Some tools have a 'hook' on the opposite end of the handle, to help pull shoelaces through the eyelets.
I realize this is not a poem, but there are many on the site in my age range that may have similar issues, or perhaps physical issues due to injury or illness. Just wanted to pass this on to you.(I posted a photo on my Facebook timeline.)
richard riddle 06-06-2016
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 8:18 AM UTC
What tender hands
and lovely finger pads
thumbing cloth and
phone screens:
If tender buttons can
be pushed through
a buttonhole then
a rigid zipper
might also
bend and sigh
Jul 31, 2017
Jul 31, 2017 at 3:10 PM UTC
defines the mass, not the counting.
weight of notes, concerned her, no
looking up, she slightly apologised, nearly,
I went outside to the cash machine,
where she probably wanted me to be, really.
then buttons, joy to spend the day working,
styles and colours.
i do like the feel , 50 grammes each time.
the comment on tedium, returned with memories
of grandmas box, phobias, trouser buttons,
linen with shanks.
I have found the buttonhole scissors.
sbm.
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 3:58 AM UTC
My sweetness
The rose that tumbles into my path
I will twine you into my life
You will live, forever in my buttonhole
The adventures we have will be slow
The dew in the mornings
Will rest in your petals once more
You will shake in the wind as we run
Your thorns will scratch my skin
And we can drift down the lonely coast
Just me and you
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 4:35 PM UTC
I sit entranced by the silver screen
To watch and wait for your eyes,
To peer on out, as I sit and dream,
Between the clouds in my skies.
I’ve carried you in my heart so long
Without a kiss from your lips,
But sat and sighed till I almost died
For a touch from your fingertips.
I’ve traced the gentle curve of your cheek,
The noble arch of your brow,
The slow spread of the smile that said:
‘I want to be with you, now.’
I’ve watched the tears that we both have shed
For the years that were lost in time,
When you could well have belonged to me,
Or I could have made you mine.
But time and distance are so unfair,
I see you, bright like a star,
One I could wear in my buttonhole
If only it wasn’t so far.
We both reach out and we touch the screen
I trace my fingers on yours,
One day we’ll see, what will be, will be,
But your camera’s set on pause.
David Lewis Paget
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 4:31 AM UTC