Loveā¦as a late is a nonfiction poetic narrative about a man and woman who desired to be together despite the geographical distance between them. Years after losing contact with each other, he passes away. As she reflects on memories of their shared experiences, grief turns to comfort through a series of synchronicities that provide a glimpse of the potential promises God has planned.
āThere is a lyrical simplicity to this deeply evocative collection, which undoubtedly will connect readers to moments in which they have experienced hope, love, lament, and an expectation for rare magical moments. Most essential is that the Poet aligns personal incidents with what everyone else might ignore as simple natural phenomena. Adrienne's poetry implores us to explore those connections taken for granted. Simply put, this collection is an invitation to a wedding of humanity and the cosmos.ā (quote by Niyi Coker Jr., MFA, Ph.D, Professor & Director, San Diego State University)
Loveā¦as a late is a nonfiction poetic narrative about a man and woman who desired to be together despite the geographical distance between them. Years after losing contact with each other, he passes away. As she reflects on memories of their shared experiences, grief turns to comfort through a series of synchronicities that provide a glimpse of the potential promises God has planned.
āThere is a lyrical simplicity to this deeply evocative collection, which undoubtedly will connect readers to moments in which they have experienced hope, love, lament, and an expectation for rare magical moments. Most essential is that the Poet aligns personal incidents with what everyone else might ignore as simple natural phenomena. Adrienne's poetry implores us to explore those connections taken for granted. Simply put, this collection is an invitation to a wedding of humanity and the cosmos.ā (quote by Niyi Coker Jr., MFA, Ph.D, Professor & Director, San Diego State University)
strange(r)
i donāt recollect
that chair being there
yesterday where
it is today
its back against
the rail like
a former lover
leaning into
my life
and that planter
with the orchid
was not erect
the wind did
not force either
i wonder how
is that possible
then i remember
looking through
the wind-
ow the thick
of your lips appear
to greet me
i wipe with windex
the imprint
on the other side
between the ex-
terior glass and screen
had this been
your initial visitation
without invitation
i would have freaked
between your lips
movement and shadow
are numbers,
which are still
the most effective
way for you
to reach me.
dragonfly
i couldnāt understand
why he kept showing up
like he was man of the house
in my space on my time
in his own way by way
of things we discussed
i am movingāāliterally
movingāāmy belongings
into the car and re-
locating to another
apartment complex and
this dragonfly hovers
there are no nearby
lily pads, pools, or ponds and
all i know about this
insect is that it looks
like it can sting worse than a
bee and it wonāt let me be
and again and again
same scenario
different day
different spot
one steadies in front of
the windshield and
leads me off the lot
when it flies away
i let it goāāfiguratively
then i look for a book
to help me deal with
the departed and
one of the first things i
encounter is this movie
titled dragonfly.
simplicity
now i am
beginning to see
if it were not just
that dragonfly and
its omnipresence
with a water garden
not a pleasance
i would see no-
thing.
if it were not just
this feather tethered
to the heartās part
of my gown
in my home where
birds walk no ground
i would see no-
thing.
if it were not just
this lamp within my reach
rhythmically blinking
its own speech
i would see no-
thing.
if it were not just
words too familiar
to be faint written by
those with whom he
did not acquaint
i would see no-
thing.
but now iāve begun
to see (some)things.
the gift
yesterday,
i asked God
to reveal why
you are hereāā
looming like some
sightless speechless
fixture floating
reminders to me
(whenever i worry)
of whatās buriedā¦
in the Bible.
last night,
that photo of you
was in my dream
i was studying it
the way i used to on
my laptop screen
you slumped
your head jumped
through the framed glass
and your eyes gazed
at me intently.
neither your departure
in 3-d nor the hollywood
horror scene phased me.
(slow fade to black)
itās daylight
we are on the bed
shades are drawn
you hold me close
and hand me a small box.
(the Director cuts)
before i wake
i wonder āring
or casket?ā
then i realize
i have received
a gift, which is
the answer.
archetypes
when i think of
february 14
2 things come
to mind: my
motherās birthday,
and the time
you called me
while i was working
to say āhappy
valentineās day,
with loveā
wanting to celebrate
i scan amcās movie
list hoping
to live through
the love
lives of others
one called
the photograph
opens today and
sounds relativeāā
to us and i do
what probably
no one else
wouldāāi go solo
isaac portrayed by
rob morgan narrates
based on a single
photo of the woman
he loves
like you, she
leaves life young,
like he, i hold on to
what has gone
they had 1 child
as in the one you
wanted between us
their daughter
issa rae chooses
lakeith stanfield
despite the distance
between he and she
(like you and me)
i see 11:11 often
knowing Hebrews
i think of my one
photograph of you
wish iād done like
issa rae and maybe
in my next life-
time Sarah with you
as my Abraham.
when i pick up my Bible
to revisit their story
i find the real
clincher is their sonās
name: it is Isaac.
the luncheon
i almost
missed youāātoday
after viewing
derrik adamās
jacobās ladder
exhibit at the
peabody essex museum
i walked along
the street in solitudeāā
no semblance
of youā¦
it was lunch time
so i entered the
red line cafƩ
ordered a wrap
and sat in
remembrance
of youā¦
when i looked
across the table
for two, then
through the wind-
ow hello
by lionel richie
came ā¦(a)cross
the air waves
and i felt
the straight of my
lips curve like
a moon crescent.
numbers
the series keeps appearing
i would think to see a shrink
if not for the book of Numbers,
your love for figures, the friend
who said pay attentionāāi would
be threading mismatched patch-
work instead of seamlessly sewing patterns.
A collection of non ā fictional poems from the perspective of a woman who was in love with a man who seemed a whole world away, the geographical nature of their countries kept them apart until they eventually lost contact, and then years later the man passed away, but remains in the heart and poems of our poet.
Some poems are lovely and relatable, others forsake the depth of poetry to maintain a rhyme that is not as powerful or as entrancing as it could have been. The collection could have used some more editing to portray the story in a more compelling manner.
On the other hand, the poems are very intimate, which shows a great level of dedication to art and bravery from the author to share such details with the world. Rather than being random, the poems narrate to us a complete story about love, longing, desire, hesitation, fear, hope, desperation, unity, and separation. The book takes us on a journey of love and heartache as this love story gets immortalized in prose.
I recommend this book of poetry to all those who have been hurt in the name of love but still find it worth remembering fondly.