Promise of Light

Welcome to the first installment of our Poet's Showcase.

 I must admit, in 2003, when I first received my issues of Poetry Motel, my mind was probably more preoccupied by the existence of some shred of hope, invoked by the acceptance letter I had received just two months before, to push on as a writer, and not the actual poetry that I would encounter inside the pages. This poetry, however, would introduce me to one of my, now, favorite poets, whose work can only be described as uniquely human. In a simply spoken way, he represents the drifters, the poets without a home, the lost, the forgotten, the spirit of strength and truth, the souls that cry out for beauty, but must settle for pain.

 By focusing here on an analytical, comparison and contrast response to two of his poems, I intend to raise awareness of his existence, and the poetry he so kindly left behind for all of us to examine and appreciate.

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First the two poems:

Continuity

It was nice seeing her.
She didn’t move me anymore
in that special way
and I could rest around her
and look for people
who moved me in that way.
If she minded,
she didn’t let on.
We drove the countryside,
the low Virginia hills
glistening in the rain
and the red brick houses glowing
like some promise from the past
And maybe that’s what she was too –
a promise from the past:
you will be moved
in that special way again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Quandary

I’m glad she moved.
Her dress kept sliding
off her shoulder and
I could take my eyes away.
Something inside me
kept fluttering open
and I was engulfed by
tenderness. Well,
you get strange when
you’ve been alone too
long, I told myself.
But it went deeper
than that. You see,
I loved her for that
one patch of skin
that took the light
just so. And if love
can spring from such
inconsequentials,
then what hope
is there?

by Albert Huffstickler

Love?   

by James Eric Watkins

   As the intimacy between two people can bring the utmost joy into our lives,

it can also bring a mysterious element, unknowingness. Could two poems with

like-subjects and consisting of the same three main characters, love, himself,

and a woman, such as "Continuity" and "Quandary" by Albert Huffstickler,

express such differing ideas about the same emotion? Let us see.

   A struggle can be found in the titles of these poems, "Continuity" and "Quandary,"

one insinuates continuance, something that once was will be again, and the other

implying something enigmatic, a sad riddle to be asked but perhaps never to be

answered. Both of these titles refer to love, but their meanings represent a pull

between certainty and uncertainty, knowing that there will be love, but, being who

the author is, also knowing how easily that he could fall into it.

   These poems are alike in the way they are formatted, written in free verse,

the way they are punctuated, correctly, not exploring his poetic licence, at least

not in that sense. Similar in length they are as well, "Continuity" having seventeen

lines, and "Quandary" having twenty-one. Brevity in poetry is an effective and

desirable trait, and these poems definitely possess that quality.

   In "Continuity," a man finds serenity in seeing an old friend, a woman he used

to be in love with. He found that because he wasn’t in love with her, he had a

newfound sense of ease while in her company, this drive through the countryside

together, no pressure, just "Virginia hills glistening in the rain" and "red brick houses

glowing like some promise from the past," and he thought perhaps "that’s what she

was . . . a promise" (lines 10-15) . . . that he would love again .

   "Quandary," meaning a state of uncertainty, could be interpreted as implying the

uncertainty lie within the state of watching her and falling in love with her, but that

he seems to know for certain, the love. Albert also knew he was a member of an

unspoken association, the lonely, "strange" people who wander and wonder

throughout this world, hungry for food that the mainstream just cannot serve,

compassion. Indeed, the state of uncertainty implied by the title lies within the

closing question. I picture Albert sitting in a movie theater a couple of rows

behind and a few seats to the left of a woman wearing a dress that the shoulder

of keeps falling down, so that he is watching her profile. To Albert, there was no

one else in that theater, just he and the woman he had fallen in love with, just

because the flickering-glow from the screen danced upon one small area of her

bare flesh, and so, when she moved, moved out of his life forever, almost in the

same fashion that she moved into it, he then enters this quandary and asks:

" . . . if love/ can spring from such/ inconsequentials,/ then what hope/ is there?

(lines 17-21)

   These two poems, "Continuity" and "Quandary," both written by the late Albert

Huffstickler, seem to share the subject of love, but say completely different things

about love. Others might see love as only a common element in these pieces, yet I

see passed the glow into the past and the promise, the promise of difference as much

as likeness.