Where Are You
by
I’m much too tired to write another poem,
far too old to contemplate love’s sweet and bitter taste.
Yet, here I am dragging my dangling participle
toward the end of another Friday night.
The wind’s picked up a tad, I hear the trees
rustle in the soft September breeze.
I wonder, does God sigh as much as we
or does he simply snore away until the day turns noon?
Some hearts are hard as dark brown coconuts,
Smash them on the ground, “THUD!” not a dent.
Others more like eggs; look at them wrong... they crack.
I’ve an uneasy feeling that my heart is a lot like the last.
I think about that smile you use to smile... just for me.
I don’t see it anymore... can’t feel its warmth.
You’d giggled and I’d laugh like a loon.
When you left, I found myself alone... staring at the moon.
I spend too much time lately wondering where you are,
who you are, what you are and why you are
the way you are and why I even care at all!
It must have something to do with Gore Vidal...
What the heck does that mean? I... don’t... know.
far too old to contemplate love’s sweet and bitter taste.
Yet, here I am dragging my dangling participle
toward the end of another Friday night.
The wind’s picked up a tad, I hear the trees
rustle in the soft September breeze.
I wonder, does God sigh as much as we
or does he simply snore away until the day turns noon?
Some hearts are hard as dark brown coconuts,
Smash them on the ground, “THUD!” not a dent.
Others more like eggs; look at them wrong... they crack.
I’ve an uneasy feeling that my heart is a lot like the last.
I think about that smile you use to smile... just for me.
I don’t see it anymore... can’t feel its warmth.
You’d giggled and I’d laugh like a loon.
When you left, I found myself alone... staring at the moon.
I spend too much time lately wondering where you are,
who you are, what you are and why you are
the way you are and why I even care at all!
It must have something to do with Gore Vidal...
What the heck does that mean? I... don’t... know.
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- About my poem
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My love poems are often about losing love. That feelings you have when someone is out of your life. I do have a few somewhere that talks about "being in love" but most of my love poetry is about the absence of love... I guess I've come to conclusion that love is most important when it's gone. Yes, I know, weird way of thinking.
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Poetry.com 4 out of 5 based on 9 votes.
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Robert, I could not resist reading this one! It cracked me up (I am egg hearted too)!. I happen to like witty satire thus making it difficult for me to take your sadness in this poem seriously. Bit of a 'send up' - I like it. I suppose Gore Vidal did not care much what people thought - he was a master provocateur and wrote an entertaining record of his life and times. Perhaps, the similarity here? Entertainment? Would be interested to know . Overall, I rate this a 5 star for its grammatic context of past participle verbs and future tense.
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How you move from fanciful to feasible is amazing. Please review my poems sir.
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On the Nebraska landscape, cold and desolate. I knew they were guilty, that is something we would never say....
Another terrific offering from Mr Woods!
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sensitive and very well written
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expressed so well. beautiful, sad and warm. This is precious
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perhaps you have showed that person some negativity and turn he/she against you, yourself and now you have became miserable lo.
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good
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sad & lonely
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Rhyme is not good, theme is cloudy and has no consistency or well expressed. For instance -
'I'm much too tired to write another poem', Much & too can't be accepted in a same sentence for same meaning?
Again -
'far too old to contemplate love's sweet and bitter taste'. Far too old; what does it mean? Too old is enough, then why far? The word love's, here apostrophe (') is inappropriate.
Anyway needs to rewrite with concrete theme and possible rhyme.
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