On Writing

 

Simple love and life and words
are far more lasting 
than all the flowery verse 
ever penned 
by all the greats 
that ever wrote
in prose or rhyme 


*******

Once poems 

Lived for God

And then for romance.

 

But in this world

Of atheistic realism

Do poems even have a chance?


*******

 

Sometimes writing can be absurd.


Like when you spend an hour

wrestling with a word.

 

And honestly punctation breaks my heart,

forever keeping thoughts and sense apart.


*******

 

Blink

     Blink

          Blink 

               The cursor on my screen 

                     counts the moments

 

Leaving behind only a field of blinding white 

unsullied by the black of type


*******

 

I sent you some poems

to amuse you during lunch

 

or to give you indigestion

as they are so bad.

 

See

you had to vomit them back up.

 

*******


 

I remember the fierce staccato 

 

the tapclack

tapclack

tapclack

tapclack

 

tap

 

The bright chime at the end of a line

and the swift zing 

that brought you back

 

Ah, how the typewriter did sing

its own great symphony 

 

While on the page

great loves were waged

and battles fought 

 

And lives and dreams and hope 

were lost

and found

 

Amidst the cacophony of sound.  

 

 

*******

 

 

Last lines should always leave you

Like a lover when the morning comes 

Sated, and yet longing for the next kiss to come.

 

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