February 12, 2013
I wanted to work on something simple in wording but with a strong rhythm. I decided to use an "ing" ending for each stanza. It's not really rhyming, I know, but it does give it a bit more shape. each stanza is as long as it need to be... beginning stanzas are shorter, and as the poem progresses they get longer and a bit more complicated, a little confusing, the way I guess life is for most of us.
Understanding
I cannot
tell… does it cry, is it laughing?
I can’t
begin to understand the reason
why the
sky must be so dark at night…
I’ve missed
the many dreams I must be dreaming.
Yesterday,
she knew me well.
She
knows my face, the silly way
I walk,
and how my mind plays tricks
upon
itself, and how my eyes join in,
confuse
the situation, how memory
remembers
what it wishes to be true… I’m sure it’s lying.
Through
existential metaphors I realize that
nothing
is but what it is, and butter on my
toast means
nothing more than I love butter…
on my toast… and life is what you make of it;
it’s just
another random chance created by a
drunken
dance within the dark, familiar parking lot
of mother’s
favorite bar… And I am just coincidence,
a
happenchance... that didn’t bear be loving.
Yes, I
know there are no rhymes to reason,
no way
to know how the seasons
might
or might not change when
the
calendar demands, why time
keeps boots
on but takes off her coat
and
stays just long enough to leave me weeping.
I know
there are no answers but
those
answers that I’ll never know.
Still,
I love to ask and ponder all that
theory,
wonder if and why, how come
my life
did not amount to more than this…
to more
than just this broken flesh left alone and bleeding.
rrw
o2-12-13
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