Greenteeth Labyrinth

Of Ferraris and Geometry

Helga Ross

Two short poems of disintegrating love. In the first one partner, in a red Ferrari chases a mid life crisis, the other ( the poet ?) turns to nature and communes with butterflies. The second one compares love to an Isocoles Triangle and asks what happens when the geometry is distorted. Emotionally charged stuff here.

Creative Commons: Some rights reserved (non commercial, attrib, no derivs.
All reproductions in whole or in part should link to Greenteeth Multi Media Productions


You and I Isocoles or what? pleasure in the pathless woods HELGA ROSS POETRY MAIN MENUS

Of Butterflies and Ferraris, love poems by Helga Ross.
No living poet I know writes so tenderly of love and loss as Helga. In this short collection she contemplates the male menopause and a lust for red sports cars, the effect of growing older on a relationship

You and I

I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly dreaming I am a man.
--Chang Tzu

You're high on driving the red Ferrari
when my trip is the Monarch Butterfly,
so we weekended their fall safari,
and bonded, on Point Pelee,* years gone by

I marvel you still love me; how you try;
polarity's the pull without the oath.
How does the Viceroy not identify?
The very mimicry benefits both.

Everything au contraire, la guerre to Goethe,
yet every quarrel ends corralled in care,
sustains us yet supports our separate growth,
symbiosis patterned pied-a-terre.

Imprint more potent than the need to cling,

one loves stronger, the grace a precious thing.

Helga Ross 2006

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Isosceles, or What?

Pondering The Eternal Triangle
Triangles are a geometrically stable shape: the strongest.
One kind, Isoscelese, has two equal sides and two equal angles.

Call the compulsion divine distraction,
the looking-back way to see into true
the bad and good that's one right reaction:
the devil, the angel, in me, in you.
Happy, we thought, till we happened-and then
the heartbeats match too much, and we obsess
and try not to transgress, time and again,
and dish a small death serving selfishness-
My Other would die that I lie. I swore-
But, we're lovers-see us in each other,
and, or, missing parts adore, discover,
and sin is a blessing worth living for.
Who'd do what's just and hurt us, or all three-
devil or angel-opt for secrecy?

Helga Ross 2007

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In-Between Time

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore…
~ George Gordon, Lord Byron

A fine day for a walk
along the edge of autumn…
Wear your flannel and bring the dog.
The common's still green.
Collages of colors fan the feelings,
paint the sounds crisp.

Maybe…kiss me under the trees
in the chocolate shadows
beneath a canopy's butternut leaves,
where no one but you sees
the flush…as flamboyant as red maples;
sends the shivers…some ripple
and fall.

If you like…lovely backlight,
the path by the lake.
Overcast, the cool's just warm enough
we can take the wind,
watch the whitecaps whip, lap-over-lap,
the blue-gray watercolor wash
and crash ashore.
Let the dog run loose and chase the geese,
till he comes back,
he will…if you will dare.
Maybe…while we wait we'll crack the silence
And each confess we care…

Helga Ross 2006

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