Something Borrowed, Something Blue: Poetry, Essays, Art

By Lewis Bosworth

Something Borrowed, Something Blue is the poets 3rd book. Included here are new poems, work from childhood, essays, interviews and dialogue paraphrased from other sources and poetry penned by others used with permission. The images include those submitted by request of the poet. Much of these works are intensely personal. Themes are life through a gay filter, faith, health and disability, growing up and animals.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477251829

Lewis Bosworth

Lewis Bosworth is a linguist by training. His education includes studies at the Universities of Wisconsin and Michigan, and he was on the faculty of Wesleyan University in CT. A Midwesterner at heart, his interests include musical theatre, art, travel, GLBTQ studies, disability issues, church work and dining out. He was born in Detroit and resides in Madison, WI. He writes and reads poetry because words reflect the diversity, culture and spirit of world peoples. Young people should be taught to hear poems as fun and games and to express themselves by writing stream-of-consciousness – non-graded!

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© 2012 Lewis Bosworth. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 8/10/12

ISBN: 978-1-4772-5185-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-5184-3 (dj)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-5182-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012914335

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Something Old

Seahorse

Paris Black & White

Seldom Sows the Dawn

Terpsichore in San Clemente

Something New

The Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name

Craig’s List

Sex Shame Self Suicide

Josh

Red Bra

Dysfunctional

Dear Hugh,

Letter to the editor of an obscure poetry site….

Digital Flesh

Size

The Joy of Singing

Reading for Free

Joyeux Noël

Form Follows Function

Memories

On Billy

Cauchemars

The Oven

Fountain of Youth

14 Reasons:

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close

Aquarium

Role Playing

Kitty Plays the Drums

Electronic Fences

Helpmate

Turn ons….

Climbing Down the Ladder

Stille Nacht

Orange Bear

Man Cave

Observation and Attention

Shorts

Invisible-

‘round my neck;

‘cross my heart

Testament

If you can’t do,

teach….

On Demolition

The Lost Chord

The Last Poem

Three Seasons in July 

The Apostle’s Creed

Death

Holy Week

What does your faith inspire?

Wilson

Poet’s Corner

1st, 2nd, 3rd Drafts, Ad Infinitum?

Comments of Noel Williams – 2012

Poetry – Morgan Fenick

Twelve Years Old

Something Borrowed

About My Own Posterity

Quotes – Part I

Never to be Forgotten

The Camera

Thanksgiving 1973

Untitled, Steve Miller

Requiem for Fledermaus

Something Blue

Bag Lady

University of Wisconsin-Madison Archives

Oral History Program

Madison’s LGBT Community, 1960s-Present

Dedication

I dedicate this volume to the following:

The Human Rights Campaign for perseverance, valor and integrity in the cause.

The Academy of American Poets for spreading the word, giving guidance to new poets and providing invaluable resource and research tools.

My doctors, nurses and caregivers; you know who you are!

My pastors, Franklin and Brad for inclusivity, brilliant homilies, and keeping the faith.

Renee for digging me out of technological holes and saving me from myself.

For the good and competent folks at AuthorHouse for three books: Cheers!

Dennis, Brian, and Mike for beautifying and rescuing this building I have called home for forty years.

For untold and unnamed members of the GLBTQ community who suffer, struggle, love, commit, learn, care and share – I salute you!

For my friends, classmates and colleagues for 50+ years of celebrating language, culture and society around the world.

My parents and Terry for giving and sharing my life. †

The author wishes to thank the artists who provided their work for the front and back covers. They are

David Dodd, Ceiling, Photograph, 2010, Madison, WI.

Herbert H. Hellbusch, Dickie and Judy, Twins, Here Comes Trouble, Photograph, 1955, Denver, CO

Barbara J. Koller, Christmas Angels, Watercolor, 2011, Green Bay, WI

Andra Patterson,   Soft Jazz, 26 x 40  acrylic and mixed media on paper, 2011, Chevy Chase, MD

Nicole Everhart, Exit, Swedish Style, Photograph, 2012, Stockholm, Sweden

Rogell Trae Roquemore, 2 years old, Playful Scribbles, printer paper, 2012, Oregon, WI

Sebastian Knapp, 3 years old, Baptismal Dove, cookie cutter paint, 2012, Seattle, WA

Something Old

geezer.jpg

Terry Allen, Geezer

tiffany.jpg

Krysia Roquemore, Tiffany

February 4, 1975

Seahorse

In the age of aquarius I saw

In a tank of caged creatures

A pair of little seahorses

They aren’t like in the movies,

You know. They’re really in love.

You can tell by their tails

Which are helpfully and carefully

Joined gently as they lead and

Follow each other around the

Little space they have to share.

They say that these horses are

Both the same. They’re male or

Female, or female or male or

Maybe even just two of them.

In the room outside my friend,

The doctor’s office, I saw

A daddy seahorse. In his tail,

Now only a pair of arms and

A warm, sleeping lap, a baby cradle

Or a breast made of prehensile sense,

Was a baby horse; grasping while

His other one was finding out

Her role. In the cubic inches of

A cage, it would be so simple.

They say that these horses are

Both the same. They’re male or

Female, or female or male or

Maybe even just one of them.

4-24-75

Paris Black & White

City of lights pasty, grey

Blending into black.

Svelt scrapers lifting

Melding passengers above

Scarcely held buttresses.

City of lights purely white

Blending into grey

Tricolored fire works

Slowly its explosion

Across your bending arms

City of lights dirty black

Blending into white

Metropolitan tunnels swerve

Butting the islands and water

Dotting your magnificent windows.

City of lights sparkling white

And slowly growing old.

Alleyways too