A Pretty Poem

February 13, 2013 § 2 Comments

A pretty poem for thee I write
For I be not with thee tonight –
Whence cannot feel thy tender touch
Nor thy hand dainty within mine clutch

What poetry could clearly spell
The feelings of this ne’er-do-well
The tremblings which in him shake
And rumblings which in him quake?

Is fate a looming juggernaut
and which, once broken, must be bought –
Or doth she beckon gingerly:
“Come nigh; I have a plan for thee”?

Ought love, incessant, skip and dance
Or might it make a sidelong glance
At Life, and say with a small sigh
“I’m tired,” and then would Life reply?

The heart wandereth damnably,
Damnably and it cannot see
Down into its gloomiest pit –
For all one tries, one won’t forget

Thy cloak of finest caramel
Thine ornaments of ruby forged
Withal, truly one cannot tell
Love anemic from blood-engorged

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§ 2 Responses to A Pretty Poem

  • Georgia Backroads says:

    Joshly,

    Enjoyed reading A Pretty Poem. Lovely imagery and the message is clear and well spoken (even to a sometimes obtuse interpreter like me).

    Ive been working on a short, simple poem about a small and surprising pleasure indulged in during a walk at Berry last month. Sometimes, when I set a draft aside for awhile, I go back, read it, and exclaim, Hey, this is good!

    Yesterday was not one of those times. I pulled out the draft, read it, and exclaimed, This is the worst thing ever written! And it is. It is truly awful. I think I have to start over.

    Blessings,

    Dan

    _____

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