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Lorenzo Costigliolo

Rookie (Western Hemisphere)

A Message To My New-found Friend, Continued...


, , , and I love you
for what I don’t see of you
your voice through written word
though not a syllable spoken, heard
by none, yet sweet as bird
song ringing through dark silent night
lark of morning singing light
refrains of love songs, sterling bright
as your hidden eyes delight,
your empty lips, like mine,
all too alone
in verse;

and I love you
for what you see in me
that those with eyes refused to see
I standing here before them still, , ,
they turned away because I do not fit
their fantastic images
of all that they pretended me to be
nor liked my imagery
my metaphors
and similes
of me;

I love you still
not knowing who you are, really, met,
the perfect you that lives on printed page,
no height nor weight, no shape, nor age
to confuse the issue, so ideally set



is far more vivid than any words describe
lives on immutably, for today,
reappears another day, another shape
another form
for now,

and I love you now
the you I see today from words you say
beshrouded by the clouds of anonymity
and tomorrow, I’ll see you in a different way
until we meet, no pictures to pervade
my preconceptions;
the picture in my mind can change at will
and does, from light to dark
to short and round
from eyes my sapphires in the night
to brown of earth and emerald green
from lithe and lean on limber frame
to supple flesh, it’s all the same...
no image nor an earthly name.

And I to you, what image have you seen?
The who I am or who I’ve been? .

Submitted: Sunday, October 25, 2009
Edited: Thursday, July 07, 2011

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  • Rookie - 150 Points Patti Masterman (10/30/2009 5:50:00 PM)

    Well whoever inspired this, must be quite majestic, to say the least. I love the continuing emphasis on the fact the person this is addressed to has never been
    seen, up close, and personal; so this is only really half the story; and yet the writer is so enchanted with the story; that it seems he could be fully satisfied by only half of the whole, however wonderful it might or might not turn out to be. The language is both lush and restrained by turn; and remains always intensely courteous and respectful.
    For some reason it reminds of those gorgeous sonnets of old; which swell with such passion and only by use of a few constrained words; as if the use of a magic spell gave them all of their true power and influence. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie Sonya Florentino (10/28/2009 6:40:00 PM)

    how did you manage to write something i know a lot of poeple here think they could've written....be careful of objects falling! (Report) Reply

  • Rookie Juniper March (10/26/2009 12:55:00 AM)

    for someone not to hear you is a travesty
    your words enlighten
    you are wise and this analysis is based
    on your verse
    your incredible rhythm
    your ability to express what we all feel
    in a way we haven't heard before
    i definitely think that 'someone else' is really
    you (Report) Reply

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