During a recent visit with a couple who hosted us on a trip to explore where we might want to live, I learned of a book of poetry I want to read. I want to know; have you read it? It is entitled Speaking Poems; it was written by Ric Masten and published in 1977.
We were sitting at the table after dinner one evening, having drinks and chatting about this and that, when one of my friends complimented me on my poetry on this blog. She is more aware than to truly like my bad poetry, I think, but I appreciated her generous comments, nonetheless.
She then went on to tell us about a book of poetry her sister gave to her long ago. She left the table to find it and came back almost immediately; she knew exactly where it was, as one does with a favorite book packed with memories and meaning. After thumbing through the well-worn book for a moment, she read a poem. I liked it. A lot. She read another. It, too, was superb. Both of them were rather short, but both of them were packed with combinations of words that instantly evoked memories of emotions long since buried.
She allowed me to take a photo of the book. She did not offer to lend it to me, nor would I have taken it if she had; it is too precious to allow out of the house. I would have to find my own.
I’ve found several copies available online. I will now buy one of them.