- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Post Choice
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Click hereThat driver was friendly, smiling at me
perched in the back seat, abject with aplomb.
What else does one do? His mercy won’t see
weary ambivalence netted in calm.
Highways together; alone and then merged,
south headed north soon to fly south again.
Baby steps faltering, burden not purged;
it’s brave to be out in this raw spring rain.
Hope is a feeling and love was a word.
Freedom is flying and freedom is loss.
Absence is only a way to be heard.
No line was straight so I zigzagged across.
All else falls silent save poetry’s voice,
dissecting the shaded solace post choice.
- COMMENTS
Tathagataabout 20 years agosmell your perfume and hear your music waft over the assembly again.
Like walking into an exotic restaurant and smelling those spices after a long while away your poetry always has that homey yet exotic feel.
we can all say " Ahhhhhhh" but never reproduce the recipe
Good to see you again Ang
The_Foolabout 20 years agoInteresting topic associated with a more formal poetry type. *G* You know what I'm a thinkin' don't you. Once again, you show your "stretch." Excellent.
jthserraabout 20 years agoMe and Bobby McGee. I could almost hear Janis singing, "Freedom's just another word for nothin' left to lose." A wonderfully free feeling to this sonnet was enhanced by the unobtrusive meter and rhyme. Very good.
jim : )
2riversabout 20 years agoas a youth I hitch-hiked quite a bit.
I decided that all drivers were the same person.
same fuel, same soul. Only the miles changed.
Scenery made me suspicious. Only backdrops between here and the next place. An awesome stage crew remains hidden to this day.
