Fog probably will say that I stepped over the line with this one, and he's probably right. Still, the structure's solid, and that's what matters most.
(Trust me; I have tried), and fairer still
Were hours with her, swimming, almost,
In her sweetness, planning, without reason,
To prolong those hours, over time, until
I hadn't any left, and fair the thought that
All that was, the loneliness that gnawed
Away the better parts of any day, had
Ended. Now, the face remains, its image.
She has disappeared, and, sweetness gone,
I swim again in bitter water, far from shore,
Repeating to myself, “This isn't fair.”
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 25 times
Written on 2011-01-31 at 15:03
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Rip Tide
Fair is she, whose face will not be banished(Trust me; I have tried), and fairer still
Were hours with her, swimming, almost,
In her sweetness, planning, without reason,
To prolong those hours, over time, until
I hadn't any left, and fair the thought that
All that was, the loneliness that gnawed
Away the better parts of any day, had
Ended. Now, the face remains, its image.
She has disappeared, and, sweetness gone,
I swim again in bitter water, far from shore,
Repeating to myself, “This isn't fair.”
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 25 times
Written on 2011-01-31 at 15:03
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
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