The Ship called Disappointment never left Port
so the absence of Cupid’s visit could hardly
be considered anything less than consistent.
She lets her fingers hover over the keyboard
with a non-blonde swish of “imperfection”
she types a few words and imagines him there.
His eyes are open and perhaps blood-shot
as he lay upon the solid pack of floe ice
with a bottle of whiskey frozen to his glove.
6 responses so far ↓
Paul // February 15, 2009 at 5:42 pm |
Not a great Valentines Day for you then? At least gave rise to this very cool little poem.
Song // February 15, 2009 at 6:10 pm |
Hello Dear Muse.
give it up already?
you’ll never do that. it isn’t in you to do that..
in the wave cycle, there is the dip…sometimes a
deep one,
but there is the other…the height…
time is not only linear, it is cyclical…and so, too
is love, like that…(you already know this, I know)
really…
then sometimes it overcomes the frequency of the wave phenomenon completely…
rarely
but it happens…
should we hope for it?
No…
should we believe in it?
Probably not..better to be..skeptical
but with a heart like yours dear Muse
love does not happen to you..
love is you.
sincerely
Robin
ps..
missed you muse
Lluvia // March 28, 2009 at 8:25 am |
I laughed so hard at this poem, because I can relate too well. Your site is cool. I think I got here through Luminata.
observantbystander // April 27, 2009 at 5:29 am |
I miss you, Muse. So much.
Simonne // May 4, 2009 at 5:14 am |
Second verse is perfection. Wow.
Miss you and just wanting to let you know that you come into my head every now and again and I always send loving energy your way xx
Kalliope Amorphous // August 5, 2009 at 10:57 am |
So beautiful!!