For Jim
“Love, be means, not end this time,” I shout,
When he accepts the call. The haughty
Bastard hisses back, “You've me.
I should be all you want.” ”I want
The woman down the street” “I
Bear nobody anywhere. I showed
You her. Now, go yourself” “You've
Also shown her me, I see, and thanks,
But we can't reach each other. She
Can't come and I can't go. She
Cannot speak. I can't be seen.”
“I guess that's unfortunate, but
I keep you both company. Why
Isn't that enough?”
Malcontent
"How can you hate your world?," he asked,
His feet up on a wicker chair, a beer I'd
Brought him in his hand. "You don't
Take pleasure from this splendid view
Of river, fields and sky? You aren't
Content inside your home, for all its size
And elegance? You want for nothing
I can see. Your cars all run. Your
Bike is fast. Your kids are healthy.
Each is sane. Your wife supports
You as you mope at home and
Write your ragged verse. Nobody
Makes demands of you, so, tell me.
I don't understand why you don't
Love your world." I emptied my
Glass, set it down, and looked again
Across the fields, and said at last,
"I can't say why. I just know
I don't."
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 67 times
Written on 2015-12-07 at 01:04
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Two Poems
Not the End“Love, be means, not end this time,” I shout,
When he accepts the call. The haughty
Bastard hisses back, “You've me.
I should be all you want.” ”I want
The woman down the street” “I
Bear nobody anywhere. I showed
You her. Now, go yourself” “You've
Also shown her me, I see, and thanks,
But we can't reach each other. She
Can't come and I can't go. She
Cannot speak. I can't be seen.”
“I guess that's unfortunate, but
I keep you both company. Why
Isn't that enough?”
Malcontent
"How can you hate your world?," he asked,
His feet up on a wicker chair, a beer I'd
Brought him in his hand. "You don't
Take pleasure from this splendid view
Of river, fields and sky? You aren't
Content inside your home, for all its size
And elegance? You want for nothing
I can see. Your cars all run. Your
Bike is fast. Your kids are healthy.
Each is sane. Your wife supports
You as you mope at home and
Write your ragged verse. Nobody
Makes demands of you, so, tell me.
I don't understand why you don't
Love your world." I emptied my
Glass, set it down, and looked again
Across the fields, and said at last,
"I can't say why. I just know
I don't."
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 67 times
Written on 2015-12-07 at 01:04
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
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