Tuesday, March 16, 2021

Women's History Month: Tuesday, March 16, 2021: Patricia Carragon's poem "These Foolish Things Remind Me of You"


These Foolish Things Remind Me of You

(sung by Ella Fitzgerald)



at a bar off Waverly Place

I sat by myself

imbibed gin & tonic thoughts

stared at solitary candles

& coupled daffodils inside glass jars


the piano by the corner   unoccupied—

if keys could recollect  

would they play it again, Sam?


me as Garbo   you as Crosby

never Bergman or Bogart


cigarette butts kissed by lipstick—

reminiscence rose from ashtrays


the bartender knew better

paid attention to twentysomethings instead

my mind time-traveled—

an airline ticket to Capri

paradise lost on a sunny beach

gardenia essence hugged our pillows

that trip to Île-de-France

the midnight train to Paris


foolish things burned strawberry incense—

my heart flew too high & fell

loneliness lit another pipe dream & cigarette

your ghost reborn in smoke


© 2021 Patricia Carragon

Patricia Carragon has been widely published online and in print. Her recent publications include, Alien Buddha Press, Bear Creek Haiku, First Literary Review-East, Jerry Jazz Musician, Madness Muse Press, The New Verse News, North of Oxford, Paterson Literary Review, Poets Wear Prada, Oddball Magazine, Redheaded Stepchild, Right Hand Pointing, Sensation, Silver Birch Press, et al.  Her debut novel, Angel Fire, is from Alien Buddha Press. Her latest book from Poets Wear Prada is Meowku, hosts Brownstone Poets and is the editor-in-chief of its annual anthology. She is an executive editor for Home Planet News Online. Patricia lives in Brooklyn, NY.


  1. Thank you Marie for publishing my poem.

  2. Hauntingly reminiscent , like the song ' Diamonds and Rust '

  3. Hauntingly reminiscent , like the song ' Diamonds and Rust '

    1. thank you Anna Maria. How strange that I also wrote a poem based on "Diamonds and Rust."

  4. Diamonds and Rust
    (written and sung by Joan Baez)

    I’m not nostalgic,
    but tonight,
    too many ghosts walked in.

    The moon was full,
    dust slept on broken boxes.

    Heard whispers in my head,
    brought the boxes down.

    Teenage expectations

    eyes on peacock feathers
    dry as dust.

    The Madonna and saints
    never saw the storm coming.

    No prayer could have prevented
    what I had to face.

    Teenage expectations

    diamond dreams
    left to rust.

    The Café Review, Fall 2018

    Patricia Carragon April 2018