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Joseph Breunig 3Rd. Click the Next or Previous links below the poem to navigate between poems. Remember, Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth. Thank you.
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Joseph Breunig 3Rd
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Pity Party of One -or- I Never Got His Name
Last Saturday, I took an empty seat
on a park bench, with book in hand.
Feeling sorry for myself, I failed-
to notice others on this public land.
Disillusioned with life’s loneliness,
my heart and face both wore sad frowns.
From my perspective, this world was…
insistent on dragging my weary soul down.
While my inner sadness wasn’t enough,
to completely complement my pitiful day,
I was approached by a breathless boy,
who had taken time to rest from his play.
With unexpected exuberance, he spoke
to me, with his head oddly, tilted down,
as he shared an unwanted gift with me-
"Look at this flower, I’ve just found!"
Though all of its petals were badly worn,
I could tell, it had been a supple rose;
my spirit, desired only misery’s company
and not his presence of disheveled clothes.
I hoped that he would take his treasure
and leave- in search of solitary play;
so I imitated my finest, insincere smile
and intentionally shifted my gaze away.
Instead of retreating, he sat beside me.
“My flower is scented and beautiful too;
thanks for being my newest friend today,
for I picked this, especially for you.”
Patiently waiting, with tiny hands extended,
he presented the remnant of his dead weed;
I knew I had to take it, to induce his leave-
so I sarcastically replied "Just what I need."
Without an explanation, he held it mid-air;
then I finally noticed, for the first time,
that this happy, gift-toting child was blind
and I’m left more speechless than a boxed mime.
Thanking him with a repentant, quivering voice,
my streaming tears shone brightly like the sun;
while I managed to express some real gratitude,
I acknowledged that he had chosen the “best one”.
Unaware of the powerful impact that he had on me,
he smiled and joyfully slid down off our bench;
then he wandered off, as quickly as he could-
with a second, dead rose that he lovingly clenched.
So I was stunned, wondering how he managed to see
this woman drowning in her self-indulgent plight.
Through his blindness, I saw that the problem was me;
by his heart action, he blessed me with true sight.
From this moment, I vow to change and see beauty
in life and appreciate every second that's mine.
Therefore, I’ve decided to move forward with purpose,
for I can’t allow my fragile heart to remain blind.
And even now, I’m becoming emotionally overwhelmed
with this unexpected flood of tear-filled shame.
In retrospect, my manners were severely lacking:
for I neglected to ask- this earth-angel… his name.