Hazel

 

Her eyes were blue today;

they change with her clothes,

with her mood, when she’s happy,

bluest after a night of passion,

in the morning.

 

I remember; mine were, too.

I shouldn’t have knocked,

maybe he was still there.

Sleep still in her hair,

but not those eyes.

I’d interrupted?

 

“No,” she said. “I’m glad you’re here.”

 

I couldn’t stay, shouldn’t,

her robe invited,

hastily adorned,

barely worn.

I was welcome.

 

“Just having a lazy day,” she said.

 

Not too lazy,

still out of breath.

Where was he? Who?

I’d forgotten why I’d come,

why I should go.

 

Those blue eyes - her body smiled.

 

They are green when she’s bored,

or nervous, like me today,

I love her mussed hair,

her feet, one caressed the other;

I had to run.

 

Hot in the car, too hot for January.

 

I remember too much.

Reviews

[Doreen]

This is a wonderful write. I was immediately drawn into the scene. I felt nervousness on the part of the visitor, a hidden love and admiration while the other seems to be clueless. Is this a man coming to see the woman with the changing eyes? Or perhaps a woman, coming to terms with her feelings for the woman with the changing eyes? So many ways this an be taken, depending on the view of the reader. I love a piece that sits with me (as this does) and makes me ponder and think (as this also does). Thank you so much for sharing. This poem really touched me.

[J]

Like yourself, as you state in your biography, I am here to challenge, to be challenged, to grow, and to see others grow (ok, maybe you didn't say that, but that's the gist I got anyhoo).

With that, I'm going to offer viewpoints both from a reader-writer and editorial perspective (yes, I edit a lil wee local poetry zine).

I often take the time to read several poems to get a feel for the writer, to see how they go about things in terms of content, syntax arrangement and overall rhythm, diction and imagery. One thing I've noted is your tendency toward punctuation (perhaps a bit too much for my taste), especially at the end of your lines. Have you thought about burying your lines and commas a bit? It makes for more dynamic reading, I've found; enjambment, when done well, gives a poem a new, exciting perspective. I often tap something out without thinking and then spend just as long afterward line-breaking it differently to present a holistic whole, a marriage between aesthetics and keeping that rhythm on how I hear it inside my head.

It's just food for thought, and my own one-out-of-six-billion-plus opinion.

From a reader's perspective, and as others have mentioned, I too feel the nervous desire here. Anything illicit, taboo and secret always draws me, gives me that excitement I think I crave far too much at times, truth be known.

Eyes reveal everything. Eyes that change colour... now, that's unique.

[blbla]

beautiful, longing, desired, controlled, dedicated - felt. adore it!

[lowena]

So romantic and dreamy.
Told beautifully.

[Rain]

I have noticed some people's eyes do change in certain conditions. I liked this piece, because it had an endearing awkwardness to it. It had such a strong feel of " Should I be here, or shouldn't I have dropped by." It was very real to me. You didn't complicate it with unneeded words. Rain..

[Brenda Sue]

Such imagination and details. I love it. Wonderfully penned.

[Catrinka]

Ahhh. excellent! I too have eyes that change with the mood, which is why I put it in my story, most of the time, green...this story has quite a bit of me in it I'm afraid, but I don't admit that to many...

[Deborah Leah Krempa]

Very nicely written. Thank you for sharing. Debileah

[pal]

"Her eyes were blue today;
they change with her clothes,
with her mood, when she's happy,
bluest after a night of passion,
in the morning."

to imagine like this.. just wonderful n different..
great job..here
pal

[Leah Simone]

you portray the desire for her in small details - that makes this especially charming. the suggestion of another man without revealing much also adds to the tension and intrigue - beautifully done, Atlanta