Cynthia L. Marcolina is a licensed professional counselor who works from home. She has been writing poetry since age 19. Some of her poems have appeared in newsletters, online and in other small publications. Cynthia does readings on the radio and at small café appearances for her friend and poetry mentor Ruth Deming!
Three Poems (February 20, 2011. Issue 25.)
Perfume
I can’t wear
fragrances that remind me
of promiscuous times
in my twenties so
I keep the smells and memories
of past lovers on my boudoir
in ornate glass bottles
Mitsouko, Anne Klein and Halston
I wear Monogamy now.
Seasons
The seasons remind me
of my last four loves.
The Donald is winter
That’s when we first met.
David was a spring and
his shiny red Corvette.
Geoff was one summer
driving around town with
the convertible top down.
Sanford was the best ride
on a motorcycle in fall.
and Sam? He didn’t get a
chance to kiss me at all.
Karma
Fate is complicated
but destiny is simple. There
is a decade between us
and another person. Love
is complicated and lust is
simple. You are just a man
and I am a woman.
D Day (January 20, 2011. Issue 24.)
One morning at a local diner
I saw an old vet alone at the
counter. On his hat it said
“WWII”. He was eating his
breakfast. A young man sitting
next to him shook his hand
and paid the tab. He was
stunned and started to cry.
He was seventeen that day
on Normandy Beach. Cigs
and condoms dispensed to him
like candy. So he took up
smoking then and learned
French from the harlots. To
pass the time so he wouldn’t
have to think about what he
was doing. Waiting in the trenches.
pointing his gun at people. Killing.
the harlots cared less about his age
and innocence. Politely refusing to
go bareback. He told them,
“I’m young but not stupid”. He
just wanted to obliterate the worst
image from his mind. The picture
of the “Kraut” he shot right in the
face. Later trying to erase it with
pills and booze. Nothing stopped
the nightmares. Often saying
“I’m go’in ta heaven when I die
cause I’ve bin ta hell already”.
He got up to leave after awhile.
Standing up slowly and looking around.
Our eyes met so I gave him a salute
or two. He stood in the middle of
the room hesitating. Till the others
noticed him. They seemed to be
acknowledging his sacrifice. This
day a lonely vet was given his due.
You Were A Presence in My Life (September 20, 2010. Issue 21.)
You were a presence in my life
when I was seven and pleaded
to see Mary Poppins on a school
night. You always promised rewards
for good behavior then reneged.
Forgetting I was small you made me
run pass beggers in City Hall with their
hands out. Giving us no comfort, shaking
your head and saying, “Not today”.
You were a presence in my life
when I blossomed at eleven and
cruised in your chocolate brown
Spit Fire listening to music.
Today when Down Town comes
on the radio I remember those rides.
You were a presence in my life
when you dropped me off at soccer fields
or a college campus in my teens then
disappear without providing guidance.
“Go talk to that man over there”, you said.
I learned direction on my own.
You were a presence in my life
in my twenties, a cloud eclipsing
my sun casting a long penumbra
I couldn’t escape, an enigma of
self-absorption yet powerful
influence affecting choice of dates--
men unavailable like you. I hoped
for once you’d come through.
You were a presence in my life
when my husband proposed, “I
pledge to take care of her”. You
replied, “she doesn’t need anyone to
take care of her she can do it herself”!
He married me at thirty. Then I
dreamed of us in the fog. You loomed
large as an elephant staring in at me
through my car window. A plaintive look
in your eye waiting to die. Then he appeared,
my hunter deposing you with his long rifle.
You were a presence in my life
until you expired one winter before our
wedding anniversary and left a big debt
behind for us. I was so angry. My new
guru had me talk to you in the empty
chair giving me the chance to express
things unsaid. Now you’re finally dead!