Three Fabulous Poems by Fotoula Reynolds

 

1941

 

 

Photo frames fill

An overstuffed sitting room

From the piano and the dresser

To the window sills

 

A young woman with a smile

To break your heart

Curly auburn hair and

Film-star red nails seduces you

 

A young man with eyes to

Nourish your soul 

Smiles only for her

Excludes everyone else

 

Modest and unremarkable

An old suitcase reveals

Aged and yellowed paper with

Ink that is still clear and inviting

 

How little we know of others’ lives

Their passion, their loss, their courage

They were parted by war

That’s when the letters began

 

 

More than timing

 

 

There is a kind of love that doesn’t

Wait for a precise moment in time

Because remembering you is her

Favourite pastime

 

She leaves the groceries on the floor

And calls me because the urge to

Hear my voice washes over her

Like cleansing rain and a prayer

 

Fighting with the wind, stirred her blood

Cheeks the colour of pink grapefruit

Our gleeful voices and words travelled

And followed a song line from long ago

 

Our hearts were loud with laughter

Spontaneous and infectious is life

Together we dreamed of tying ribbons

On the wishing tree of Anatolia

 

Her thoughts were at their zenith

On the day my shoulders felt heavy

And to watch the retiring sun with her

Would be as sweet as honeycomb on apple

 

 

 

Fingers

 

 

I never learned to play the piano

But I have all my fingers, so I still can

 

Betrothed twenty nine years ago

My ring finger is encircled with commitment

 

A typewriter gifted to me at age twelve

I now know what my mum was thinking

 

‘Do-Not-Disturb’ finger painting in progress

Serious artist performing masterpieces

 

I am grateful for all of my ten fingers

They each have a role to play in sign language

 

Counting fingers saved me in maths class

Useful tools for adding and subtracting

 

Plucking dandelions out of the ground

A tight finger hold for wishes blown

 

The nails on my fingers receive a manicure

Ten different colours for lovers and dreamers

 

From pencil and crayons to pen and quill

My fingers are the bones to my words on paper

 

I point them skyward to the stars

In the direction of big things still to come

Fotoula Reynolds is a writer of poetry, born in Australia of Greek heritage. She lives in the Dandenong Ranges in Southern Australia and finds inspiration in the nature that surrounds her. She convenes a poetry reading group at the local pub called Poetry in the Hills. In the short time she has lived there she has grown creatively within a very inclusive arts community and has produced three poetry collections including: The sanctuary of my garden, Silhouettes and Along the Macadam Road. She is published in four Australian anthologies and is a 2019 Pushcart Prize nominee.