Bad Poetry Night
we are very modern you and i
advanced in ways others
fail to understand
our lives are separate
distinct and apart
you to yours and i to mine
we walk along
holding hands across
the fence that defines
the boundry between
yours and mine
there is a you and i together
with no real definable us
to perceive nothing
to grasp and hold onto
the barriers fail and our
vital borders get crossed
on occaision
for a short time we rejoice
and luxuriate in each other
till without warning we notice
the division has returned
then we resume our
comfortable distance
you woke up this morning
and left just like you said
that you must
i watched you go i
even smiled and waved
goodbye like a good scout
a clever and modern man
sophisticated in his acceptance
wise in his understanding
although right now
sophistication and wisdom
cannot cleverly explain how
trustworthy, loyal, helpful,
friendly, courteous, kind
obedient, cheerful, thrifty
brave, clean and
reverent me will
get through tonight
alone
posted by The Minstrel Boy at 11:13 PM
2 Comments:
Stop beating yourself up, I liked the poem. Keep in mind all the good times you two had and start planning her next visit. :)
I came to your site yesterday and it looked like the instructions for your template were all that was on the screen. Weird! I thought something bad had happened to your site. Glad to see everything is back to normal today.
yeah, there are what people who know far more about HTML coding call "overflow" issues from time to time. I think my overuse of pictures and graphics is the culprit, although I got the sidebar back up by discontinuing the poetry that used to be there. I figure since I only changed it about once a week or so, I can just make it something I post conventionally from time to time. I'm doing much better. When I get all funkatized in my mood I putz around the barn, write something, regain my perspective and feel better. My german shepherd Abbie had the best take on the situation. I was brooding, practicing my guitar while watching the U.S. Open on T.V. and Abbie came in, looked at me for a bit, ran off, got a squeaky ball and dropped in my lap. The look on her face said "Here, throw this, you'll feel better." She was right.
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