Goodbye Anne – Poem by Bruce Whealton">Goodbye Anne – Poem by Bruce Whealton
Published May 30, 2009 | 
">Bruce WhealtonGood Bye Anne
Letter To Anne Sexton I thought I knew you by your poetry but in the recent biography I glanced at, revealed a different Anne. I thought I could relate... that the only one you hurt was yourself - but this bio says you abused your children. I had sympathized with you and felt a certain kindred connection but perhaps I just ignored the differences. I've really confessed more of myself to the world - people can read my poems and truly know who I am... Another thing, I really never got your love of Death - never really could relate... though, I've known the despair of which you've spoken but that's where them similarity ends. I may still, some day, feel the urge to quote your poem “Wanting to Die,” as if I shared your feelings.
by Bruce Whealton
Posted in Bruce Whealton, poetry by Bruce Whealton | 
anne sexton, biography, Bruce Whealton, Death | 
Leave a commentThe Things that Endure – Poem by Bruce Whealton">The Things that Endure – Poem by Bruce Whealton
Published April 22, 2009 | ">Bruce WhealtonThe Things that Endure
It is a question of method. Don't be surprised, as if you didn't see it coming. You may think you know me, but you do not... though you should have known me - I've revealed myself more than enough - I have nothing more to offer. I only hope to be different than Anne Sexton, “Wanting to Die” or Sylvia Plath confessing her suicidal intentions. First my aunt did it back in the 80s and it seemed a bit strange back then - I had no idea she was so depressed. I've seen her since then. She seems fine now - in dreams. How can this be? Don't ask me I just know that she seems fine. The native Americans believed that the dead, or the souls of the dead visit us in dreams... So maybe auntie Rosie was telling me all is well now. Then there is my first cousin Karen, who hanged herself, back in February of 2007. I miss her and want to know why. I didn't know she was depressed either. When it comes my turn I don't suppose anyone will really be too surprised. I could be wrong... maybe finally, in this last act, someone will find something interesting about me and what I've done. In all truthfulness though, I hold out no hope for this. I only know that the only thing I can imagine that actually lasts is this one act... otherwise I'd have nothing against life itself but nothing ever lasts! Bruce Whealton – poem for April 22nd, 2009
In the Boat – Poem by Bruce Whealton">In the Boat – Poem by Bruce Whealton
Published April 4, 2009 | ">Bruce WhealtonIn The Boat
This time it felt just like a premonition. In the dream, I felt like a ghost - I was there with you transparent to your sight you looked right through me not seeing me. My love for you keeps these dreams alive But I must be strong and sober, yet even amethyst could not prevent the intoxication of these memories. There is something familiar about the place - I recognize in the distance, somewhere, the Cape Fear river empties into the ocean. There by the water we stood yet you did not see me. I watched you enter your sailboat. I tried to call out but I was so scared of loosing you. I watched you drift away, fading out of sight. The poet Anne Sexton wrote of her great rowing toward God. The boat I enter takes me back in time - back to you. By Bruce Whealton – April 2009
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