Sunday, July 1, 2018
LAST LESSONS OF THE AFTERNOON
Didn't send anything
to your journal this time
didn't send anything to
your contest
(after winning it last year)
give someone else a chance
I said
but the truth is it's just too much
goddamn trouble
for little reward
Like a lot of things
Like life
mostly
But you're expecting
a poem
of course you are
that's why you're here...
So let's not disappoint:
Last lessons of the afternoon
your last drive
I said, this misery must end
The rolling English road
bagpipe music
anthem for doomed youth
Buffalo dusk
full moon
what are years?
Look within
the lost man
not waving
still drowning
I remember the woman
at the Washington Zoo
wearing flames and dangling wire
a kiss in space
a taste
tangerine
Xmas trees
the end of love
going
going
gone
All day it rained
Fuck you
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Meow, Tim … and a very cheerful Sunday July 1st to you as well … smiles … Love, cat.
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading my cheerful poem!
DeleteWow, this misery must end, but am losing hope that it will any time soon. I love the list of images down the page, the kiss in space, the taste of tangerines. Very cool.
ReplyDeleteI hope you liked the ending too,Sherry--LOL
DeleteThe best part of this poem is the part that starts I remember the woman and ends gone. Complete in and of itself.
ReplyDeleteThanks for that, Toni. I was capturing a mood here, and though it was fleeting, it was honest, and thus the poem ends the way it does I'm coming more and more to believe that poetry should be immediate, and not calculated or planned.
DeleteI love the mood in this... may there comes other days that are sunnier.
ReplyDeleteThanks. Yes, the sunnier days peek in and out of the clouds.
DeleteMy dearest, Tomoteo, I would totally sing this at the top of my lungs while dancing in the middle of the street, just so that I can howl that final line. Fantastic!
ReplyDeleteAnd now I'm craving tangerine. I hope you're happy.
What you said makes me happy, Magaly...to know that you get it...that poetry is connected to emotion and that emotion needs to be expressed, no matter how it may be perceived!
DeleteI believe in your poetry not being calculated comment above. this was an effing barn burner, that tone and effortless dismantling was awesome.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much. Much appreciated, as I'm a newly converted fan of your writing!
DeleteOkay you completely blew me away with this one! Excellent write 💜
ReplyDeleteSanaa...I so appreciate that. You have excellent taste--lol
DeleteLike the Stevie Smith reference.
ReplyDeleteThink I'll put on some big gold earrings, visit the zoo and hang out at the gorilla cage.I'm in the mood for arm wrestling a prickly poet.:)
Rall--very cool that you picked up on the Stevie Smith reference...you are sharp as a tack...and the last two lines of your comment would fit nicely into a poem, this prickly poet believes!
DeleteLove this:
ReplyDelete"Buffalo dusk
full moon
what are years?"
There's nostalgia, and regret--and, of course, anger in this poem, all wrapped in longing. What are years, indeed?
You have broken it down so well, Romana. And what are years but an overly obsessive way of keeping track of that which might better be forgotten? Thanks for the follow!!!
DeleteTim, this is perfectly you and perfectly perfect. I love it, all the way to the rollicking perfect end.
ReplyDeleteYou give me high praise, enough to keep me high for the rest of the day! And when you say it's "perfectly you" I know I'm on the right track...though in fact I'm off the rails...and couldn't ask for more than to be appreciated for that!
Delete