If I were Newland Archer
What would I now do with my love?
Would I torment  her, ask impossible things,
Surrender to her irrational command
And let the others make my future plans?

Oh no! My beloved Ellen was wrong!
To think that I could stay the course,
That marriage could end like a closing door,
And leave the future in May’s serpentine hands.

This time, if such a chance were given me,
What would I do to make safe our love?
I would give up all I had thought so dear,
My frivolous books, effete pursuits, so she could be near.

I was unworthy, the first time, I know.
I consented to her feeling that I must go.
But now I would re-arrange my life, dare any disdain
Just to kiss her wrist in unfounded faith.

Would I again leave my Love if told to choose?
No! I was weak before, thinking that I had no chance.
Yes, oh, yes! How could I ever bear to lose
My Ellen and our enchanted dance?

I know I have wronged those who trusted me,
But don’t blame the unwitting authoress of my woe!
For it was my own frailty that blinded me,
My disregard for those things that
Any man with a heart should know.

I see now that if to May’s wish I did not bend,
She would see my surrender was great to me but small to her,
She would find another, as resolute women do under duress.
And instead of a false life, Ellen, I could be alive with you!

                                    -----------------------­--

Written if Newland Archer (of the novel "Age of Innocence") had listened to no one and abandoned not only the wife who shanghaied him into domestic servitude, but his own priggish insistence on doing the “right” thing for the wrong reasons.

Semi-finished, June 19, 2011

Sharon Talbot

Cherry blossoms petals and rose pearl earrings,

An umbrella left stranded, stark and white,

left open on the pathway.

Silver heel imprints on the pebbles

find new faces each night.



I sit on a cold bench

that bathes in the sunlight,

holding hands with her picture.

I bid Paris goodbye.

Your promised proof lacks rigor
and riots down the corridors of logic,
strong women bleeding inside,
all their energy confined in a wind tunnel.

I am not persuaded that my sisters are a dream,
though they die the long death of injustice.
How their voices swarm in my windows,
like maddening windchimes in a storm!

Your promised proof a color on no spectrum.
I set sail with the tide seeking forgiveness,
seeking the Newland where men do not subduct,
where oceans merge with female currents.

Clouds of despair
Slowly engulfing the rest of the sky
Smell of soil
And feel of rain
Took my soul to a brand new land

Colours of grey white blue and hue
And the sun which slowly settles down
Sound of a thunder and sight of freedom
Smell of soil and feel of rain
Took my soul to a brand newland

Careful and slow with the moment
As if enjoying every bit of the cosmos and
Never too rushed out or never too harsh
Smell of soil and feel of rain
Took my soul to a brand newland

Slow wind which touches my face
Took my breath away
It's much for me
Smell of soil and feel of rain
Took my soul to a brand newland

Summer sweet land
For climate yet so cold
Work of love
Work with love
Never betrayed me
And neither did the
Ever large sky