PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I heard a song, the other day.

I was waiting by the north railway,

“You’re not the one, you’re the only one,

You’re not the one, you’re the only one,

That makes me feel like this.

That makes me feel like shit!”



I in my usual internalising fashion,

Likened it to us; my girl and her rations;

One that tells me it isn’t right,

Keeps me before big days, up all night,

That only at people close she beligerates,

And erupts as tho’ she needs be irate.



For going on nearly eight years or so,

We’ve tried to keep ourselves dear and in tow,

But the messages that keep ringing in my head,

That although not married I wish myself dead,

Even though the sin of a first kiss is missed,

I cannot find a bandanna for my risk.



But lo’ she becomes more at her very arrival,

Than I could hope to retain my survival.

That now walks a razor’s edge on high “e”,

That in days before could set me free.

I have no longer the heart nor mind,

That earthen deep did look to re-bind.



Charred, broken unrecognisably,

My body, heart and sizeably,

My mind cannot hold the fear and anger,

Its voice throughout my weeks in hunger,

Any longer than dispute that carries,

A light to resume to continue the tarry.



So soon, so soon, the weight must go,

But I realise this I will not know,

For it will be my heart that pushes me up,

And pulls my neck as quick to sup,

And by friends and family do laugh or heave,

The viewing of truth in my love disease.



©R.H.Elliott 2002