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Erany Barrow-Pryor, Ph.D.

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Member Since: Apr, 2009

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Sacred Lover
by Erany Barrow-Pryor, Ph.D.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Erany Barrow-Pryor, Ph.D.
•  First Loves
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The image titled PIPE CLEANER accompanying this poem is a watercolor rendering crafted by the artist DIANA L. DEMING.

All Rights Reserved by the Artist.

For A Lover I Forgot To Remember


I hadn’t thought of you for at least two decades

And then one March night, the eve of my dead father’s birthday

There you were in my dreams

And I remembered to remember you

And the things you had taught me

The wisdom you shared with me


You were young but wise

Pursued me with the skills of an older man

(Ironic that I left you for an older even wiser man

You were heart broken

You told me he wasn’t worthy of me)


I was stuck on stupid

Hangin’ around with the football team captain

(While you observed that folly from a distance)

Just because I could

Didn’t really like or love him

But thought I’d try that

Didn’t work though

He was stupid too

I think he often forgot to wear his helmet

Too through with him


Then you made your move

Said and did the right things

Told me that moronic footballers

Who thought they were Lucius Allen

Were not worthy of me

Footballers who thought they were Lucius Allen

(This I knew, but thought I’d try that, you know)


You’d come to me by bike, bus, borrowed car or hitchhiking

And arrive at my door and present me with a red flower

That was spiny and bristly that you’d snapped off the branch of

A tree

I do not remember the name of the flower

But I would have remembered if I knew then

That we were making memories


You taught me that my body was sacred

Promised never to violate me in the back seat of a

Tore up car or any where else, for that matter

That chastity is a virtue

That the Sacrament of Matrimony is Holy

Ordained by God and the only union when Woman and Man

Were called to consummate their Love

That jealous men don’t really love you

They just want to possess you

That love means Never Having To Say You’re Sorry

What a Love Story that was


You taught me about Jazzzzzzz

Miles and Coltrane and Charlie

And Dindi…

We talked on the phone for hours

Fell asleep while talking and then woke up

And kept talking………

Neither of us wanting to be the first to hang up

We wrote and exchanged love letters (no text messaging back then)


When we were a part one summer

(I may have met a Summer Lover then)

We recorded our time away in a journal

And then exchanged them when I returned

We mailed cassette taped messages


Took me horse back riding (my first time)

Took me to The Rose Bowl Parade (my first time)

Took me to mass on Sundays

I thought you’d be a priest

That didn’t happen


How could I have forgotten to remember you?




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Reviewed by Karen Palumbo 6/23/2009
Oh such sweet memories and worth recalling in full bloom....

Be always safe,

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