After ten years of marriage, he cast me aside,
For a younger woman with bounce in her stride.
He said he loved her, and she made him feel young.
Then he said I was dated and too overstrung.
So, I looked in my mirror to see what he saw
And saw an old woman whose emotions were raw.
Age took its toll and wrinkles don’t lie,
What I saw in my mirror made my soul cry.
By chance, two years later, we met on the street.
He seemed evasive, and our eyes did not meet.
But I just kept on looking to learn how he fared.
(I still had fond memories of the decades we shared.)
“Can we talk?” I said, when our eyes finally met.
“I hope you’re now happy and have no regrets.”
He thought for a moment, then looked far away,
I could tell from that look he had nothing to say.
Grasses are seductive on the wild side of fences,
And failed relationships lack recompenses.
Old stallions think wild grasses taste best,
But they often find them hard to digest.
…undeniably tattered and shredded
my itinerary compromised by being
considered as prey and being
expected as a masochistic self-flagellator
losing revenue to the big gun’s atrocious tillage of the mind’s phosphorescence
I bagged the boy’s brigade for being bridges
and then being able to be
nearly my own cerebracy and again
appreciating my own celibacy …
in a rational loss of solicitude for
those obliquely using or anti
I built ramparts against the banality
of the ill-advised and the
ephemeral lacy streak of zig-zaggers
and water-diviners
and lost the locality so as to bequeath my
solid grade before I pop off into
the space of the grey morning light
Now don’t get overstrung
Mentation then, tear watered,
swells and garbs itself with presence—
at once to shout in strength
and pluck a cosmic string,
now restive, overstrung and tense.
Whispered tremolo swells
and in crescendo risen
transcends veiled mists of time
to stand, all seeing, astride
the sleepy gates of pearly dawn.
And, absent pause, endures
to span the velvet gulf
of light and truth and there to find
ineffable essence, which intermits
its fervent stir to calm.
And so of hopes and dreams and prayers,
suspend all doubt and hesitation,
for these with purpose-driven urge
merge with an eternity of thought
and we the authors of its might.
Dedicated to our dear and treasured poet and friend: Sarai Romani.
It all begun I should have been overstrung however the puppy love begun
Wasn’t matured completely to acquire any alcoholic refreshments from any liquor store yet the love I grown for her was drunk
Can I overcome what we could had become
Months of squeezing you like a sponge, love was easily squeezed out like a sponge
The expense you pay when your in love I need a refund
That thing termed love for me is out of sight I’m done.
(The End)
- Loverboi
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