"Next week we shall walk again, shall we not, now it is very clear to you that I am no ogre, but only a mild and somewhat apprehensive gentleman?"

--Randolph Ash ("Possession," by A. S. Byatt)

His Hope

Oh how he hopes she knows
How much he wants to be,
How much he longs to be,
To his soul's silent floor,

a gentleman for her,
a gentle man with her,
though troubled water stir,
and upper ocean roar!

Poetry by Rob Graber
Read 657 times
Written on 2016-01-29 at 17:44

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Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
Nicely done.

Very fine writing on a delicate subject.
Excellent writing.

Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
This is great, Rob. A great subject, well and succinctly treated, and fine writing, too.

Very pretty. "Think, my dear friend, of the variousness and the shape-shifting and the infinite extensibility of the human spirit..." --Randolph Ash. He is doubtless a gentleman. And perhaps his soul's floor is not altogether silent. All those Krakens thrashing about in the troubled waters might yet be seen, anticlimactically but happily, not as ogres but as astonishing and gentle creatures. Was that a loopy comment?