Dear Dorian

Bjorn is hosting the pub today for our Meeting the Bar segment. He is asking us to write poetry in the form of a letter. It must be a true letter with salutation and ending and poetry in between! Today Karin is promoting us to write a letter poem.  


My Dear Dorian,
It has been many years since I last saw you at the Café Royale.
I was surprised to you see you sitting
in the midst of The Kong – The Four
as we in Society named you.

Whistler, Forbes, and Oscar looked
older, wiser, more foolish,
dusty around the edges –
like a doily left too long on the surface
of a table that has waited too long to be dusted.

There you sat
like an exotic orchid
perched among faded roses –
but those roses still have long thorns
with blood on them.
Their tongues will ever be sharp!
I wonder if I will live long enough
to see them discarded and dead
In the trash bin.

You saw me and your beautiful mouth
curved in a sardonic smile.
You tipped your glass of champagne
in my direction.

One more café mocha –
It makes my heart go so fast,
But then,
when spring has paled and lovers
such as you consigned to the grave –
it is good to feel my heart beat faster,
to feel alive.

Is that why you did it?
Why you made your deal
with Fate?
So you could feel alive forever?

I wonder. But I just wanted you know –
I know your secret.

With best regards,
Lady Lavinia Thornsby

Reeve Carney as Dorian Gray, Penny Dreadful

Haibun: The Summer of Elegant Men

Today at Poetic Bloomings, we are prompted to write about “That Summer of…..”  This was the summer when I was 12.  This poem and other poems can viewed at:  AN ENTERTAINING SUMMER – DAY #8: THAT SUMMER IN SICILY

Haibun: The Summer of Elegant Men
I was at that awkward age between being a child and a teenager. Thick glasses, knobby knees, beautiful skin like my Aunt Gay – roses and cream. But I was so bored. Both my teenaged aunts had gone to camp as counselors and my best buddy Effie was in Greece visiting relatives. So very hot. The ceiling fans in the house barely moved the stuffy air around the high ceilinged rooms. My books were all read and the public library wouldn’t allow me into the adult section. I went to the kitchen to discuss my boredom with my grandmother. “Watch the oven for me” and off she went to the library in the corner of the house. She returned shortly. High up out of my reach were certain books. On the table she placed four books. “I think these will keep you busy for a bit.” And there, she placed beside the basket of tomatoes and freshly picked string beans from the kitchen garden were: a ratty edition of On Walden Pond, a brand new Collected Poems by T.S.Eliot, and antique editions of The Picture of Dorian Gray and The Importance of Being Earnest. I eagerly seized them and rushed up to my room. I read them obsessively. Within two weeks they were all read and I began to read them again. The poems of T.S.Eliot stayed by my bedside until I left for University. It became dog-eared and sometimes a page would fall out. But that summer, I became enrapt with the four main men in my life. John Lennon became part of them the next summer. These men influenced my taste in men until I finally married many years later. Thin men with wit and intelligence came and went in my life but these four men remained steady. They taught me to observe nature and people, to converse, to be true to myself, to write poetry. That summer of thin elegant men became the pattern of my summers and are still part of this summer. The Collected Poems still resides on the table by my bedside.

sultry summer days
unfold one page at a time –
elegant men smile

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