Poetry by Ted Bernal Guevara
So
I’m moving slower now
So
I’m flying
Still, I tuck you
in my young arms,
the embrace they mimic
of every man’s pursue
of Helen. Or Clytemnestra,
her twin from all burden.
She does not puzzle fling. She’s more
my type
in this
The rain on her face
I’ll wipe gently. Yours
is in my soul, dry from any case.
I’ll be at your tender.
The two are
just an egg.
About the Poet
“I am a freelance writer from Speedway, Indiana. Although I delve in an array of themes–always looking for the unusual—I tend to adhere to the plight of the disabled, the helpless, their “profound richness,” as I mention in one poem.” – Ted Bernal Guevara
Advertisements
I hope this does not offend, but please help me understand your poem. It’s very different than what I have read before. Thank you and welcome to Vita Brrevis. 😊
Sorry for the typo Brian 😕
I love the vague-ness of this. This is the type of poem I’d love to see deconstructed by the poet like you did with Phil Hess, Brian. Great content here
To Walt and maybe all, the poem is just a description of a past relationship. Helen of Troy was free-spirited, and she had twin, Clytemnestra, who was completely the opposite. The speaker is reminiscing to what he may have preferred of his wife. But he observes the danger in the lateness of his wish because the past, well, remains unchanged.