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Open Poetry #7
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writing over wornaway wearies, part ii
| Open Poetry #7 |
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writing over wornaway wearies, part ii |
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bsquirrel
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855
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so, she said. where do you want to go, she said. i don't know, i said. i think i'm dead, i said. oh, she said. don't say that, she said. why not, i said. i love it this way, i said. why, she said. why do you have to say that, she said. i don't know, i said. where do you want to go, i said. forget about me, she said. i'm worried about you, she said. don't worry about me, i said. this isn't your fault; it's truth's, i said. but i love you, she said. i want to be with you always, she said. no you don't, i said. don't lie, i said. no, it's true, she said. don't call me a liar, she said. i'm sorry then, i said. let's talk about something else, i said. forever, she said. i'm here forever she said. i simply smiled. later i cried. then i looked through the sky -- sorting clouds and stars, smileworn scars. it went too far. don't worry about me, i said. i'm going to live before i die. |
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Janet Marie Member Laureate
since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554 |
but i love you, she said. i want to be with you always, she said. no you don't, i said. don't lie, i said. no, it's true, she said. don't call me a liar, she said. i'm sorry then, i said. let's talk about something else, i said. forever, she said. i'm here forever she said. i simply smiled. later i cried. then i looked through the sky -- sorting clouds and stars, smileworn scars. it went too far. don't worry about me, i said. i'm going to live before i die. ------------- OH MAN...I could kiss you for this one. this is so damn perfect for the way Im feeling tonite... you are so cool my poetic pal... Later...when your looking up at those stars... think of me...Im on my porch looking up at them too... and thinkng of this poem. I love when you write like this. sorry...I know Im worshiping again(smile) you'll get use to me  later Mike-gator jm/bs Well the sun sets gently on your shoulders And it makes me want to touch you there. And the light in your eyes makes me feel Like there's something much better out there Something kind... And I know someday I might be looking around Trying to find some purpose Well purpose it can't be that hard to find As long as I've got the wind... The wind and your love to carry me. vertical horizon |
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Janet Marie Member Laureate
since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554 |
Im BAAAACK!! did ya miss me-- LOL I just thought of something... this says PART 2 on the title... did I miss part 1??? wouldnt wanna miss it...(smile) jm/bs |
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Balladeer
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-05
Posts 25505Ft. Lauderdale, Fl USA |
Well, I'm not going to kiss you for this one but I will say that I think the style and the pace of the poem is top-notch. This is extremely well done. |
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bsquirrel
since 2000-01-03
Posts 7855 |
Butterfly slippers, No kisses; we're friends. Anyway, you didn't miss part one -- I never posted it. There's a story behind this. Here it is: When I still had a girlfriend, she sent me a collage of all kinds of images from fashion magazines, music magazines, etc. Basically, a combination of sex and pop culture -- and their interwining nature. When she broke up with me, I wrote a poem in large red letters (later outlined in blue) to get rid of some feelings. The poem went as follows: "Forever," she said. i simply smiled. later i cried. finally i lived before i died. I wrote that about 400 pages ago. And that was only last year! Anyway, since today is the anniversary of the breakup (day before easter), I found the collage again while I was rooting through some stuff in the closet. I tore off all the layers from the collage, to get rid of the old poem. One small picture of a doll remained near the bottom left corner, glued on real well. The image struck me for some reason. THere was also some bleeding through of the original red and blue marker over certain sections of the posterboard -- it looked like trash except for the little doll. I took out a black market, and wrote this poem all the way through over the now empty space -- reprising the old poem in the process. Bal, Thanks for reading. And I think you can understand that I won't be accepting kisses from you, either. I mean, no offense, but if I'm not accepting them from Butterfly Slippers, why would I accept them from you?  Mike |
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