(Ode to innocent and Charming Youth)
They dance beyond the neon glare,
With headphones on and braided hair.
They quote their queen in every song-
Ah,these Swifties can do no wrong!
They turn heartbreak into melody,
And pain into pure poetry.
Where the cynics live,they still belong,
The faithful ones who sing along.
They trade their fears for lyric lines,
In glitter,truth,and valentines.
They dream of worlds where love is strong-
Yes, these Swifties can do no wrong
When elders frown and pundits sigh,
They lift their banners to the sky:
'' Its cool to feel,to care,to long-
To cry,forgive,and still stay strong''.
And if tomorrow turn to storm,
They'll write again,they'll still perform.
Hope is their stage,their lifelong song-
Bless the Swifties-they can do no wrong
My disregard for the cynic
was so deep, that I chose to
live life in a dream.
If I want flowers and soft nights,
I'll find them.
If I want hills and herds
of Sheep, the echo of wind
round my body, I'll go live it.
There are aspects of life
that are hell. And the hell we carry
round inside.
If I want hell, I'll make my own.
And I'll fade with it, into
soft petals of the Hawthorn.
Some label me as cynical, they do declare
Claiming I dwell in life's shadows, ignorant, unaware
They brand me a heretic, unconventional, a lost soul
Believing in living, death, then stating, “who knows”?
But I'd contend my perspective is clear
A truth-seeker's path, devoid of any fear
The divergence between us is stark, yet small
You have complete faith, I crave evidence, that's all
I don't indulge in conjecture, we could argue is the sky green or blue?
I aim to refine, to unveil what we know to be True
When opinions clash, beliefs come undone
I reevaluate, is my stance still won?
Don't feel obliged to adopt my point of view
Though science guides me, it's your choice too
I plead for open minds, devoid of attack
Let's converse, let reason be our track
To those who deem me cynical, inquire of me
Ask for my reasoning, my clarity to see
And if heretic's your label, I'd remind you this day
Even Jesus was radical, in much the same way
So, am I a cynic? That's subjective, it's true
Perception defines it, in light of our view
So, if you ask my beliefs, and how I make it through life
I’d say watch closely, I just try to do what's right
CYNIC
He was Dean of the university’s
College of Creative Malfeasance,
including the Schools of Business,
Law, Information Technology, Marketing,
Economics, Theology and International
Relations!
His son was more sinister
He was a minister in the
Church of Confederate Christianity,
a denomination that is anti-family,
anti-immigrant, anti-democratic,
anti-Semitic, racist, pro-gun
and absolutely pro-life, perpetually
in the courts, perpetually in the news
and social media, perpetually in your face
a rising case of rape and incest,
a danger to our lives, an acute
health problem, requiring
an abortion!
People flocked round badly hurt Paul,
Ten minutes ago had a fall
While he was playing rough football...
And they had to a doctor call,
Then with chess players in a hall,
Loved more than the card's near a mall
"No! His treatment not in this hall,
For not being ethical at all...
Some First Aid and then my clinic...
At least, it'll save me one cynic!"
And you with a dislocation:
Get ready for relocation.
Love is the rebuttal to a cynic
Who holds we're only true to selfish ends,
Patients at some existential clinic
Inside for reasons no-one comprehends
For madmen have no cause to make amends
Weak-minded men seek out what serves them best
The coward dreams of karma and pretends
while lunatics take all and damn the rest
Personal survival's not the quest
for individuals always die alone
No, thriving here together is our test
The madness is to think we're on our own
To love is to accept this is the goal
Love our reward as pieces of the whole
That could not make you happy.
But it does, I say. It really does!
What kind of joy do you get out of it?
I do not know, but it keeps coming in giant waves.
I cannot believe you waste this kind of time.
It uplifts me, I could do it for hours, I love it.
I could never waste time on that.
That's okay. What do you like to do?
I have no idea, but not that.
Have you ever tried it?
No.
I could never waste time on a hobby like that.
What could you waste time on?
What could you do all day long and love it so much
that you could do it for hours and hours and it would seem
like minutes?
I don't know. I have never found anything like that.
Do you think you could try some new things?
No.
So sad, to be a cynic. To not know yourself.
To not know what you like to do, for this is limiting.
You have to see the magic
And believe in the dream,
And inspire hope in yourself first.
A cynic has difficulty seeing this.
I am in awe of everyone else.
They seem to have their act together.
They live in houses not filled up with junk.
They have perfect lives.
Their children are not punk.
They are not on drugs.
They have no diabetes or cancer.
I am going crazy with envy.
For they are all perfect and I am not.
They were all plucked from the blessed tree.
They are all beautiful, and I am distraught.
They are all the best, and I am the worst.
What is wrong the mama said?
It’s being thirteen, the girl replied.
Nothing worse in the history of the world.
Especially if you are a cynical girl.
Not a good year for the roses
Cut price Valentine roses
languish in black buckets
heads drooping like a rejected lover
Calorific candy confectionery in boxes
covered with cardboard love hearts...
still waiting to pass ruby red lips
‘Be my Valentine cards’
now half price -
buy yours ready for next year!
2/15/19
The usual tat overflows on the shelves
Such items we’d never buy for ourselves
Chocolate hearts wrapped in shiny red plastic
At a seven pounds each the prices are drastic!
A fluffy teddy bear that’s clutching a heart
It reads ‘Darling I love you, we’ll never part’
Sexy underwear that’s so uncomfy to wear
With so little fabric you’re practically bare!
Deep in his wallet a man has to delve
For single red roses or bouquets of twelve
The shop keepers know that men have to buy
So on Valentine's Day the price goes sky high
The price of love escalates just on one day....
I'm a Valentine's cynic that's all I will say!
Inspired after seeing half price Valentine's 'tat' in the shops today!
2/17/18
A sonnet for cynics, for Valentine's Day
The Cynic speaks of Love; What lie is this
But lust dressed up in silky swathes of lace
In pretty words, and promises of bliss
Come pouting in her petticoats, her face
All flushed with rouge and scarlet on a smile
With kohl around her cold come-hither eyes
Come lie with me, my love, a little while
She’ll say, and pat the bed, and part her thighs
And flash her stocking tops gone all awry
And secret places oh so sweetly blessed
And you’ll believe, the Cynic said, as I
Who once was by her magic so possessed
In Love, when she is nothing but a whore
That’s forty quid, she said, and that’s the door
© Gail Foster 14th February 2018
Love
I see it piled sky high on the supermarket shelves
Perfect pink packaging containing calorific chocolates and cute cuddly toys,
seductive scents or sexy silk underwear
Slushy Valentine’s cards with ridiculous romantic rhymes
Stick on a cardboard heart and it's not just the vendor who is smiling!
A sea of red roses that stretches as far as the eye can see
Notice how the prices inflate higher than a helium 'I Love You' balloon
Yet on 15th February everything will be half price
Is this the price of true love or am I just a cynic?
Valentine Shmalentine Contest
Sponsored by Nicola Byrne
01~20~17
Number 7:
CYNIC
Who can forget a liar
Or a peace maker's sigh
Who lights a burning fire
For reasons who knows why
Leon Enriquez
20 December 2014
Singapore
I think the sonnet form is almost bare
Of interest in this modern world so fast,
TV commercials keep us in our chair
And all we're taught to value doesn't last.
Our friendships are as vapid as our schemes
And fortune jeers to think we'd ask for more,
We throw away our honor and our dreams
Like babies loose inside a candy store.
And now, my friend, I've come at last to see
That love belongs to only those so weak
That thread restrains them, never to be free,
Mere fools who have but platitudes to speak.
Yet, though I have no virtue left to steal,
I look at you and hope that love is real.
Brian Johnston
March 1992
My attempt to write a Sonnet capturing Yuliya Verbitskaya's world. She was 21
at the time. In the interest of clarity, however, the last two lines are more
about fraternal love than about any romantic intentions toward me.
I think the sonnet form is almost bare
Of interest in this modern world so fast,
TV commercials keep us in our chair
And all we're taught to value doesn't last.
Our friendships are as vapid as our schemes
And fortune jeers to think we'd ask for more,
We throw away our honor and our dreams
Like babies loose inside a candy store.
And now, my friend, I've come at last to see
That love belongs to only those so weak
That thread restrains them, never to be free,
Mere fools who have but platitudes to speak.
Yet, though I have no virtue left to steal,
I look at you and hope that love is real.
Brian Johnston
March 1992
My attempt to write a Sonnet capturing Yuliya Verbitskaya's world. She was 21
at the time. In the interest of clarity, however, the last two lines are more
about fraternal love than about any romantic intentions toward me.
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