Monday 11 November 2019

1 Poem by Roy Wahlberg


I try to recall faces from the past
and hold them fast
in my mind
like photos in an album
but they slide away and swiftly fade --
even the dearly loved ones.

I may briefly be left
with the faintest scent
or a manner of dress, or a walk
or the glimpse of a profile
or a smile
that eddies before me an instant, then --
like a wisp of smoke its gone.

It's as if the album's burning
bright scarlet into black,
the paper edges curling
back to the center
'til all that remains
are dim memories
of memories I once had --
fragile shadows of the past
that shatter at the
slightest touch.

Editor's Note

This piece is recommended by Mike Northen, editor of Wordgathering, who wrote to PP: Roy Wahlberg has a neurological disability and writing poetry has literally been his lifeline in prison.  Roy's work was sent to me by a friend of his last fall and I published several of his poem in the September issue of  Wordgathering.  Since then I have found myself in the position of trying to help Roy get some of his work published.  I've attached a file with seven of his shorter poems that I hope you can consider for inclusion in Poetry Pacific. Roy is still in prison and can only receive email mail through a program called jpay, so I am sending these (with his permission) on his behalf.

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