Flexibility
This morning when I was pursuing
Just one of my many routines,
My son asked why I wasn’t doing
That task by a whole other means.
I pondered his concept’s adoption,
And quickly saw it wouldn’t do,
Not owing to flaws in the option,
But since it would mean something new.
Cause
It always seemed to be the case
Whenever our kids were off base
The circumstance was said to be
A trait which they received from me.
Unchanged
We were good friends in school,
And for some years thereafter.
Our humor was the tool,
So we shared lots of laughter.
But suddenly I stopped
Hearing back from him,
Attempts at contact flopped,
The chance to find him slim.
Then thirty long years later
I started to rejoice,
For little could be greater—
Than when I heard his voice!
I learned he’d lived right near me
That whole time, with a wife.
I asked what made him flee—
He shrugged, and just said, “Life.”
Although he hadn’t lied,
I felt swept ‘neath a rug,
But masking hurt I tried,
While giving him a hug.
They soon came by for dinner,
I made a fancy meal,
The night seemed like a winner,
Again our friendship real.
Next I went to his house,
A fine full day was had,
I gave praise to his spouse,
Which seemed to make him glad.
I said I’d like to see him
Again before the snow,
He mentioned a museum,
And said that we should go.
I then called and emailed
On what we were to see,
But every reach-out failed,
Once more he ghosted me!
Russel Winick started writing poetry after ending a long legal career. He resides in Naperville, Illinois.
More pearls of wisdom from you, Russel, to which I can relate (especially “Flexibility”). And “see him/museum” made me laugh out loud.
Thank you Cynthia. I’m glad that you can relate to “Flexibility.” It’s always a relief to learn that one’s issues aren’t unique.
One characteristic of Winick’s poetry is its absolute clarity. There’s no mistaking the subject, the meaning, or the poetic intention.
“Flexibility” and “Cause” are perfect presentations of fact and situation. Their concision and directness in themselves add to the comic effect. The longer narrative of “Unchanged” deals with a more serious and emotionally resonant matter (interrupted friendship, long silence, reunion, and the unexpected ghosting), but Winick’s clarity of expression manages to keep a somewhat light and humorous tone, as if the speaker’s final disappointment were somehow whimsical.
In all three poems, something about traditional poetry is revealed, though perhaps not intentionally. We are meant to smile at what is told to us, to not take it too seriously, and to maintain our equanimity with simple acceptance of what is described. Those three things are almost always totally absent from modernist poems, which instinctively tend towards seriousness, troubled emotions, a kind of butt-hurt pretentiousness, and the quivering pseudo-reference that I call “Portentous Hush.” You never find those things in a Winick poem, thank God.
I’ve found that this is a a major diagnostic tool when comparing traditional poetry with mainstream modernism. Modernism insists on taking itself seriously all the time, in all circumstances. Traditional poetry (while it certainly can be serious) also has the freedom to be relaxed, unconcerned, laughing, and and untroubled by anything.
Thank you Professor. It’s just amazing, and so greatly appreciated, how much I learn about my own poetry from you. This, to me, is among the greatest blessings of SCP.
Russel has returned with a passel of wit and wisdom from his castle. Your humor always tickles me ensconced within your poetry.
Thank you Roy. Your words are very meaningful to me, as humor is so often a pivotal goal with these poems.
All three poems are delightful, and I can relate to the first two especially well. Flexibility describes a specific character trait of mine; probably something I inherited from my parents.
Thanks Yael. That’s an interesting take on inflexibility.
Russell your humor is so refreshing, I always come away with a smile on my face and see much truth you expose in the human condition.
Paulette — It’s actually hard for me to thank you adequately for this comment. Exposing the human condition is my primary objective, so I’m quite moved to read your words. Thank you!
Nice set of poems revolving around the household, Russel. “Flexibility” and “Cause” both bring understanding smiles. “Unchanged” is the more mysterious one; it’s not possible to fully account for a long-time friend “ghosting” another, especially in the apparently promising circumstances you mention. Can it just be that the problem rhymes with “life”? Or maybe the original friendship was based too heavily on humor and laughter? In my own experience, I sometimes attribute “ghosting” to a friend’s emotional insecurities, at other times to surrounding “ill-speakers.” It’s easier to tell, I think, when difficulties in getting together come from real, forthrightly acknowledged responsibilities. I suspect “Unchanged” is the longest of these three because you, on the receiving end, are uncertain. My sympathies are with you in “masking hurt.” That’s worth doing nonetheless, to be secure in one’s own identity and memories. You seem to indicate as much in your poem!
Thanks Margaret, for the thoughtful analysis. The poem tells the story exactly as it happened. I have no clue for why either ghosting occurred. I wasn’t happy, but didn’t take it personally, as I assume the issues lie with him.
Flexibility and rigidity go hand in hand.
A slingshot needs a very tightly wound rubber band.
The final blame always goes to the father.
I too have had old friends reconnect and then sever communication, which always makes one wonder. Them’s the breaks.
Agreed.
I was particularly taken by ‘Unchanged’. When we reconnect, we do tend to expect we’ll carry on where we left off, when in reality we’ve become different people.
Thanks for the reads.
Thanks Paul. What was interesting was that for two visits, we indeed picked up just where we had left off decades earlier. And then he suddenly disappeared without a word, again just like before.
“Unchanged,” though lighthearted in tone, pinpoints a sad truth in life: that friendships may not last. It’s hard to let go, to realise that the other person isn’t interested any more. You said it succinctly.
I was surprised, actually, at the number of comments that poem generated. This dynamic is apparently more common than I realized. Thanks, David.