Skip to main content

FIRST DATE by Sheri Lindner


There are moments when we stand almost suspended in time…

… when we hold a silken cord that binds us to the past and connects us to a time that lies ahead, as yet unseen. 

Writing this poem was such a moment, as memory rushed in, of a time of quiet, pure sweetness one ordinary afternoon that imprinted itself on my heart, making that afternoon something far more than ordinary.   

The love that floated between us, like the steam rising from our hot chocolates, traveled the years, transforming with each place it touched. 

And now when that love is a gift to someone else, there is the silken cord, each fiber spun and strengthened by love, that I still hold.

First Date

You don’t remember our first date
but I do, you
in that kelly cabled sweater
that made your hazel eyes
as green as new clover.
We stroll through town,
find ourselves
at the corner European patisserie
nearly empty at this hour.
Across from each other
at a small round table,
there is nothing
pressing we have
to do this fine afternoon but
sip hot chocolate
and blot each other’s
whipped cream moustaches.
After, we stroll some more
until you tell me urgently
that you have to go.
There is no choice, nowhere to turn
but to duck around the next corner
and just go.
The cop does not have a sense of humor
and I’m guessing no small son
who has just shed his diapers
and drunk too much
on his first date with his mom.
Today you asked
her the question,
gave her the ring,
and I, who was her place holder,
remember that first date
that took up quiet residence
in your cells
and in mine.
                           
                                      October 14, 2010
Pictured is the author's son on his wedding day~




Sheri Lindner, Ph.D., a former teacher of English, and currently a clinical psychologist, is also a poet and essayist interested in the processes of development and maturation as they are reflected in Biblical stories and children’s literature.  Her writings have appeared in Jewish Currents, The Reconstructionist, Reconstructionism Today, Kerem, Jewish Women's Literary Annual, Poetica, Performance Poets Association Literary Review, Matzoh Ball Soup, Soul-Lit, The Ritual Well, and The New York Times.





~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~ 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

  This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness… Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Gather

IMBOLC by Caroline Mellor

The inspiration for this poem came after I watched a magical winter sunset and full moonrise from the top of Firle Beacon in the South Downs... Unusually for me, I wrote the poem quite quickly and changed it very little before publishing it – perhaps the energies were working through my pen! Imbolc is the mid-point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It’s a fire festival which I particularly love because of its associations with Brigid, the Celtic Mother Goddess of arts and crafts, clear sight, healing, inspiration and nurturance of creative talents – something which, through my writing, I am always trying to connect with.  I also love Imbolc because, with so much darkness and negativity in the world today, it is a time for hope, potential, visioning and initiation. With love and blessings as the light returns. Photography by Chanel Baran IMBOLC    by Caroline Mellor I am the dream of awakening. I am the returning of the night.  I am the tough green

WINTER SOLSTICE: A GIFT OF LOVE by Carolyn Riker

I’ve had several days now of alone time… It is unusual and a gift that I couldn’t see until I breathed it. I have been able to watch the sun’s rise through the grey of dawn and smile at the flickers of frost melting on the waving boughs of evergreen. It’s unique to follow daylight as it traverses the tempo of a cat’s soft slumbering purr. Night comes swifter and the glow of candles and the flames of fire comfort me more than the steady stream of always-doing-more. As much as I resisted, I needed this break. I had no idea how much my body was trying to tell me   slow down   until the exhaustion settled in around my joints. My eyes swam in molasses. Heaviness of I-can’t-hold-out-much-long, walked me to the throne of my nest. It’s winter’s gift of self-nurturing and love. It’s been a quiet proclamation of femininity and a need for comfort foods. Lemon crisps and cranberry, white-chocolate shortbread dipped in tea; I felt a hint of being pampered without