Thank you Bo, that means a lot to me.
Happy birthday to Mrs Cav.
If you gave this poem to your wife as a gift, and she feels these same deep feelings that you feel, then I imagine she had a very happy birthday.
Well, I haven't given it to her yet. I wasn't sure it came out right, to be honest.
Just change the part about the hair being barely there. Make it sound like she is beauiful, no matter what length of hair she wears.
I like her hair, the 'barely there' thing is an inside joke, as she complains about it now that it's cut.
Well then, I think the poem is nice just as it is; you were thoughtful enough to write it about her. Wives always like to hear sweet words from their husbands.
Hmm...okay colorbook. I'll write it out for her, but I'm not completely satisfied with it. I think it's weak, and too reliant on internal rhyme trickery. Mind you, I am my harshest critic, always.
edit, always edit - It's potentially really good.
I will go back to it edgar. It just doesn't ring true to me at the moment. Thanks to everyone for being polite, but it does need work. Back to the drawing board, and Microsoft Word, of course.
I like it, maybe you feel she won't...so go with edgar's advice.
Yep....we seem to have posted at the same time there, colorbook.
I loved it; but, if everyone likes something and you don't think that it's ready, you should listen to yourself.
So Cav, did you edit your poem or are you waiting for the right moment to fill you up with inspiration?
Today at lunch I looked across the restuarant and saw this scene:
One person on their cell, the other staring into space.
So..
What is the other thinking ?
What pose should I employ whilst you are on your cell?
With Allen from Division
it sounds like
so this won't take long.
(It will)
Do I stare diligently at the menu
in order to keep the waitress at bay
so that you don't have to mouth your order
or try to use hand motions to indicate
you DO want the omellette special but W/0 the toast
but WITH some kind of fruit,
any kind,
it doesn't matter.
(It does).
How about I slit my eyes
pretend to read the chalkboard specials?
How about I just slit my eyes?
You send me a glancing, dancing smile across the table,
just a flash and it's gone again
a fish in a green pond.
someone watching me might think
I'm thinking but I'm praying
(like praying)
for allen to go away
for the waitress to come
for my cell to ring.
for anything to happen
besides this
Joe
You are so damned good Joe.
As for my piece, I decided to let go and just give it to Mrs. cav as written. She loved it, but did have a chuckle about how the "I bleed" line sounded a bit like Eminem.
Well, I wouldn't mind his paycheck.
I loved it, Joe...
As for your wife, Cav, I knew that she would love it. Did you make any alterations?
With the TV rustling on in the deep background,
And the thrown bra and stuffed jeans laid down on the ground,
And the posters strewn around, and the lager cans
Lying in code on the squalid brown floor,
With the sock on the door as the 'No entry' mark
Contradicting what's happening inside the room,
And eyes hardly connected: one's firm, lustful gaze,
And the other one's thinking what else they could do,
With a few bogus sighs, and a crook of the neck
Kneeling down while the others there add sound effects,
And the two hearts in stasis, and barely conjoined,
But-- at this time-- laid still in a structure of backs;
-- Yes, it all lends a feeling of anticlimax
That she'd never have seen through the dreaming back then.
And she tries to find something else to focus on:
On the dawn birds that sing loudly down onto them.
As the sky groans with fury
I contemplate beauty
and notice the tapestry
of a dog who sports both hair and fur.
Like Bottecelli's Venus
it undulates in waves
of ever-changing colour, texture
and the Zen of today, of now.
Deep murky waters float away
Lapping at chimneys in low lying lagoons
Possessions treasured and forgotten
Spill their contents down stream
Raging storms fear pelting rain
Continuing ferociously
Dampening spirits with vengeance
Receding only
As the settling tides becomes exhausted
Loving all the work. The floods must be awful to bear....I really like "Possessions treasured and forgotten"
Here's tonight's work from me. A friend out west whom I have known for 30 plus years wanted to know where I thought the next 'event' might occur.
=====
Wanna know what I think?
I think we're it.
It's pretty easy to float
around this town,
float around with a backpack
full of whatever on your back,
get on a train,
drop
and get the hell out of Dodge.
So I think we're it.
I don't know where though.
Like Iraq, we have so many targets.
More than Afghanistan
more than Iowa
lots more than wherever you are
New Mexico, Arizonia, Ohio.
Al Queda is speaking to the folks
in the backlands of the outlands,
they have never heard of Wisconsin.
So I think we're it.
Whatever.
Here at ground zero
we ride the trains
we get on the buses
we sit elbow to armhole
at Yankee Stadium
and think more about Jeter's slump
than a dirty bomb
We eat at MaryAnn's
outdoors in the air
in the noise
watch the boys
watch the girls
then ride the 1/9 home.
Yesterday,
I sat with my friend Frank,
and he said he liked sitting on the river
as the boats went by.
The boats go by.
The boats go by.
The cigar in his hand smoldered
a thin smoke signal home
I think we're it.
And there's not a ******* thing we can do about it.
So,
talk to you later,
maybe,
maybe not.
Either way it was great knowing you
you lucky son of a bitch,
And tell'em I said
Thanks for nothing.
Joe Nation
