PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Modern blind date of sorts,

not picked out by best of friends,

but algorithms

and gut feelings.

She met him in a dark room on a midweek afternoon, lit up by his presence and the whiskey bottles that lined the walls, the sunlight challenged by him, strained through the stained glass decor.

He grabbed her and led her down a path of deep poetic conversations.

His turn of phrase would be her turn of phrase as his thoughts and observations created cadence in her mind and a desire to capture the feelings escaping between them.

Her children hated him. His children resented her and stymied the romance that thrilled her for a year until one night tired of competing in a competition-less competition for his attention, she asserted herself and lost.

Her children glad to no longer fake kindness to their mother’s lover, his children happy to ignore his full attention now, unkindness their best qualities.

They made an attempt again, having enjoyed heated discussions and the passion of passionate talk.

They failed again from a fundamental outlook on life,  politics.

The sex, and words, pulled from voracious readings, not strong enough to keep them together.

So she gathered her poetry notebooks and turned to other things, life, happiness, and put it all aside, till now, put back in that space from reminiscing, she pull the words and lover's rhyme to her cortexial door.  

And, Here is that tale. 

These poems tell a tale

Written in Chronological order

Like the outline of the book

I wish to write.

They tell the tale of an affair.

He stole her soul 

when he took her Heart

Each blade of feelings

He examined in bed

Lying pillows supporting

Sometime kisses

Sometime retreating

Until that fateful night

In the shed out of the rain

looking out on the night

An Arguemnt on politics

Why couldnt he see

Her liberal leaning

The answer to the world.

I hear Alyson Krause

I feel Alyson Krause

Then they tried again

His voice saying yes

from the top of a Colorado mountain

She wasnt alone when he asked

But she made sure she was when she answered

Or did she ask? And he agreed

His infectious energy

Over the wire.

Only to end again

Politics and trust

Why he couldnt trust her

Why she couldnt convert

Why they argued

When they should have been

Making Love.