d'Verse Poets Pub Poetry Potluck
You, my fantasy island
by the seashore,
by the madness.
You're not from around here--
the planet, I mean.
You, the mystery of mythic proportions--
like trying to decipher the lyrics to "Chasing Pavements."
You call to me on a super high frequency
that only dogs and angels can hear,
and I hasten to your side
just to let you take me for a ride.
And yes, cowboys do still exist,
but you've decided to give in to me
only on certain patriotic holidays and February 29th.
And you think of compromise
the way a field of daisies is compromised
by a free-standing outhouse--
our conversations a verbal game of paddle ball.
If I hold your comments to the light
will I see a validating watermark?
And what kind of woman sees that I am falling for her,
and all she can do is stand back and yell TIMBERRRR???
Yes, I am easy to manipulate--blindly optimistic,
as when Noah said: Yes, but we could sure use the rain.
The hapless grin that indicates an alarming loss of brain cells.
But there are penalties for scofflaws like you
who break the rules of love while smiling so sweetly.
Ooh...don't kiss me now...
who knows where those lips have been?
Sooner or later we must choose
to embrace life, or hold it at arms length,
now and then giving into wild abandon.
But you say if we dance naked in the rain
who will do our choreography?
Romance is poetry
one day the heavens will part
and love will prevail...
May I have this samba?