Repetition. I suppose that’s what you’d call it.

Every meeting the same.

Or perhaps, what goes round, comes around?


This perennial activity, admittedly ritualized

was a personal obligation, now transmuted to

a time honoured tradition.


You never speak until given permission.

Initially shy and tentative and slow to respond,

once in your stride, nothing can stop you.


I don’t mind your coldness, your inertia,

But I really prefer to see you animated,

excited , full of life, dancing in circles.


So much so, that I’d admit to being provocative.

To wheedling and cajoling in an effort

To extort some reaction, rouse your anger.


Your reluctance is a mystery to me,

Yet now I expect it and accept it

As a different reaction would be false.


Eventually you begin to glow, a blush here and there;

a hiss of disagreement on your lips

as you attempt to control your fiery temperament.


With pulse quickening in anticipation

of the expected storm, I coax and encourage,

Stoking the fire within you…


And suddenly! (it happens every year),

you lose what vestige of control you have,

And launch your vehement protest.

Inflammatory gesticulations,

robust protestations, inability to focus

As you send mixed messages

and sizzle your indignation to the heavens!

Your sparkle and wit is not diminished

as your colourful language creates

an electric atmosphere, sparks flying,

almost tangible in the immediate proximity.

Unable to engage, or indeed adequately respond,

I stand, overawed by your energy and passion,

transfixed, dazed, envious of your freedom

to express your innate personality

from deep within you.


And then as suddenly as you explode,

you seem to die, uttering your last with an

splutter, a pause, a sizzle, and then,

just as I think you have run out of breath,

in true Beethoven style, you gasp one last, pitiful fizz.


I turn, saddened that our meeting seems shorter each year,

and that as usual I have such minimal input.

My heart though, is gladdened by your transient presence.

And as I turn, I think perhaps I see you smile.


Or perhaps it is just the light on the nails playing tricks!



Blogged with Flock


2 Responses to “Catherine”

  1. November 5, 2007 at 1:52 am

    This is wonderful. I could feel the build up of the moment, and could relate to the person you were talking about. I use to have a friend that would intentionally upset me because he enjoyed watching me struggle with the emotions. This was powerful. Very well done.

  2. 2 kimmikat
    November 5, 2007 at 7:21 am

    Aww…I’m sorry you have experienced something similar, but pleased that my poem was good enough for you to be able to recognise the situation and relate to it. Thank you for taking the time to comment.
    Take care,

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