Open Poetry #47 |
The Tome of the Tallyman |
JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
On a cool morning, nearly fall, window is wet with sudden squall. Delivery trucks shift gears loudly, as sun squats o'er tops of buildings. I gaze upon her midnight eyes, with longing and a half-said sigh, She looked deeply into my face, and laughed aloud at my disgrace. For 'lo its been this many years, since you silenced me with a sneer. I have n'er lost my love for you, within my heart I feel love's coup. Eons of progression for naught, Man stares up at the stars a lot. Lost within myself in my room, as though I were back in the womb. I take a sip of lukewarm beer, and oh, it taste just like my tears. Someone is singing the Lord's Prayer, sweet and clear as the mountain air. What once we had that used to be, is as dead as the Judas tree. But you can't hate unless you love, once so proud; hurry get rid of. On this cool, crisp September morn, I still think of her and her scorn. With darting black eyes she did howl, felt lower than the lowest fowl It's his disgrace, is what she said, yes, 'tis true, many tears I've bled. The disgrace more than I can stand, I've been given a death-bed hand. ~ It's amazing how many women a woman can be. ~ |
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© Copyright 2011 Jerry Pat Bolton - All Rights Reserved | |||
Lori Grosser Rhoden Member Patricius
since 2009-10-10
Posts 10202Fair to middlin' of nowhere |
interesting tone to this one Jerry, I like it. To me there is a different quality to your voice in this one. Good write my friend |
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
I tried for different, Lori, hope that I hit it. Thanks . . . ~ It's amazing how many women a woman can be. ~ |
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