This poem is about a great friend and writer.


Stuart Isn’t Here

Stuart, your writing makes me jealous
You left some on my desk, I didn’t know
and only found it, this evening, late
when I was tired from my own stuff
Too tired to look at more, but there it was

Wanting just to eat, pour a glass of wine,
a few minutes with a book and then to bed
It caught me, made me know the work
can be done as well as this and better
You’re just starting, Christ, I’m starting too

Feeling years behind, your words all float
and mine have to swim against a current
There’s always another bigger animal
further up this food chain we call writing
Ain’t life a bitch, that’s what they say

The jealousy, the trying to get it down
is what makes a sharper edge and so,
still doing the work, thanking you for that,
But, Jesus, you’re tough to thank
Your stuff stays in my head

Poetry Collection: The Smell of Tweed and Tobacco
This poem is included in
Jim Freeman’s
poetry collection

THE SMELL OF TWEED
AND TOBACCO

available here in print
or as an e-Book
in your favorite formats.