[the Muse, Herself, rebukes the picture maker]
You do not know quite as much as you choose
to think you do. You say that, coming home
a girl, relaxing, takes off all her clothes
except (of course), her sheer, soft pantyhose,
and yet prefers to keep her stiff, heeled shoes
on? Shoes of any kind are enemies
to love, to comfort, and to poetry's
delights. All these adamantly refuse
to be shod; and this is just common sense.
As for me, in my own experience,
the shoes come right off just inside the door
(this is both simple act and metaphor).
I say this with authority as Muse
over my poet's house and in this poem.
THE CAUTIONARY TALE OF LIFE
ah but yes
the artificiality can be
beauty unto itself
one's actions
no matter how trivial
or earnest
can be just as telling
as the story teller's own voice
vibrations in our lives
we make
as we select and or do
not select this or that
given choice
there are greater forces
for which we must
unconsciously consider
amid the variety of their influences
to which we are predisposed
to somehow undertake
and from the murky far reaches
of say this own muse's
shadowed mystery
I must confess
the angles always from
which I work
are not so easy to estimate
nor trace
as true individuality
holds the highest office
in many a particularly evolved
woman's case
as lovely an endeavor as your
hen/egg theory on a woman's comfort was
I must conclude
the personality behind each thinker/viewer
varies greatly thus
as no two sets of eyes seem to see
what it is others feel they must
which brings about
'The Cautionary Tale Of Life'
It Is What It Is
an all too common placement
of common sense trust....................
(Mar. 5, 2011 728pm)
Note, I really enjoyed this poem of yours so much so that it inspired this poemof my own in reply to your poetic recollections of the conversation you had with your friend. As always thanks for sharing. I enjoy your poems. Sincerely Melissa Lundeen
With the deepest regret, I
With the deepest regret, I must admit that I utterly failed in the courtesy required by my faith in failing to reply to this great poet's comment. Alas, it is too late to repair the failure, because, as I understand it, she is gone from this life and from our community.
Januarian