Scott Edward Anderson's Poetry Blog

Here is my poem for Day 20:

Nightmares end.

Last night’s surreal

Scenes stopped abruptly

Segued into pages

From “The Song of Songs,”

And my love sleeping

In my arms again.

Morning comes with the hush

Of a spring rain, a chill breeze,

And robins and starlings

Vying for attention.

I pull my love closer.

Her head on my chest,

Her dreams in my heart.

–Scott Edward Anderson

Here is my poem for Day 19.

I wrote it in the midst of all the chaos and reports coming from Boston, trying to keep up my spirits and the challenge made to myself for National Poetry Month. And to prove terror can’t trump poetry.

I have no words.

I just stare, listening

To the news and don’t

Even know how to ask

Why?

Where is the poetry

In words like manhunt,

Lockdown, shelter-in-place order?

Where is the poetry

In controlled explosion,

on-going situation

person-of-interest?

Where is the poetry

In a world where terror

Takes hold and bites?

It’s in the eyes of my love

And our hands clasped,

Finally reunited and safe

Together, after too long apart

Here is my poem for Day 17:

It is tough to be strong

In the face of another

Senseless act of violence,

The lives and limbs lost

To someone with evil

In their hearts–

Whether jihadist or jerk-off.

Yet we must, we have to be

In order for decency and love

To triumph.

We think our love

Is only between two people,

But in fact it’s a beacon

For humanity that shines,

“Love conquers all things…”

–Scott Edward Anderson

Here is my poem for Day 16:

I never met your father,

But I feel his presence

In your life, on this day

Every year since we met

At Poets House, the tenth

Anniversary of his passing.

We sat by the river,

Two good friends watching

Our kids chase each other

In the playground.

Moments of silence,

Never awkward;

A few laughs.

I don’t know what you

Were thinking then,

Except I know it meant

A lot that I wanted to be

With you on that day,

To help you through it

With poetry and laughter,

The distraction of kids

Playing and eating lunch.

A man who cared

And understood what

This day means to you.

Who cared enough

To seize the day

And pay attention

To the meaning

Of your heart.

–Scott Edward Anderson

Here is my poem for Day 15:

We are better together.

But you knew that,

Didn’t you?

Why do the miles

Seem so much longer,

The days much darker,

When we’re apart?

Nights, too, especially

The nights–interminable.

Turning both of us, strong,

Independent in so many ways,

Into lost souls who just want

To get back to our source.

Silly, really; it was just four days.

But it seemed ceaseless

And without end, until

I held you in my arms again.

Like an addict, I need

–no I crave–your touch,

your voice, the way

Your eyes connect with mine.

I need your physical presence

Next to me, around me,

Even if just out of reach

Across the apartment,

Like I’ve never needed anyone.

Absurd, I know, but if I’ve

“Got to have one vice,” as

My grandmother used to say,

I’m glad it is you. So very glad it’s you.

–Scott Edward Anderson

Here is my poem for Day 14:

No Aurora in this night sky,

I go bed in the wee hours.

Listen to the sound of cars

Fast on Lincoln Drive below,

Almost a river sound,

If not for the roughness

Of the asphalt.

What chance has anyone

Got, with demons like those

In their rear view?

 –Scott Edward Anderson

Here is my poem for Day 13, written at 1:30 AM, proving I’m not always happy:

1:30 AM. Can’t sleep.

I don’t like when we fight,

Especially via text, and

Especially about being apart,

Which neither of us enjoys.

I distract myself with old movies

On TCM, and try to forget

There’s still two days to go.

Even Selznick’s “Since You

Went Away,” can’t take me away.

With its sentiment and sorrow,

And the hint of a sappy ending.

Jennifer Jones, whose affair

With Selznick led to husband

Robert Walker’s breakdown,

Playing a teen (at 25), having

To pretend she’s in love

With her ex-husband, not

Her director. (Ah, back story!)

Joseph Cotten’s Virginia

Gentleman not sinister at all,

Showing his range as well as

Limitations. My limitations

Stare me in the face

From the screen —

And from this empty bottle.

While you steam and fume

And try to sleep,

100 miles north.

–Scott Edward Anderson

My son Jasper “goofing” at Disney World.

Here is my poem for Day 12 of National Poetry Month:

Today, my oldest son is,

Somehow, 17. I don’t feel

Old enough to have a son

That age. It’s a cliché, I know,

So I won’t even say it.

Suffice it to say,

I remember

My first talk with him:

Holding him in my arms

In a rocking chair

In Alaska Regional,

The Chugach Mountains

Out the hospital window.

I kissed his forehead,

Looked straight into

His face, and whispered,

“No matter what happens,

I will always love you,

And you will always know it.”

–Scott Edward Anderson