Poem A Day, Poetry

Day Twenty Five, Poem Number Twenty Five: “A Brusquely Told Tale of Love, Marriage, and the Death that Comes After”

He didn’t want to get married,
She didn’t want children, let alone two.
Together, away they were carried
by the things they swore they would never do.

The love came easily enough,
but not the hard work that made it count
because that’s something that never does
if it did we wouldn’t want it anyhow.

The marriage was never faultless
but it was always safe and assured.
Alone they would hardly impress,
but together they flourished and endured.

Suddenly, he was revealed a fraud
and their life was mashed and bled
like the enraged fist of God
pummeling pure innocence in the head.

He took to sleeping on the couch
only after she had left her keys
because the bed they’d shared, he found
was too big and cold and empty.

His crime was indiscretion and poor taste.
This was a fatal flaw deep in his character.
Tragedy is often what heroes await,
but brave and bold he was not – he abandoned her.

The fight swirled beneath his skin from the start.
However he refused to let it seep through.
The fear and remorse tore him apart,
his guilt shackling him to his lonely truth.

Ultimately his daughters never blamed him,
not outright to his face at least.
Yet they still learned a valuable lesson:
love is only as perfect as people can be.

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Poem A Day, Poetry

Day Seven, Poem Number Seven: “Open Book Closed”

Your secret name is Karintha
known only to me.
Like Toomer’s nymph
who grew into a woman wild with freedom
and made the men lascivious.
You are
irresistible.

You are free
in a world you feel trapped by.
The souls of your feet never touch the ground
as you dance through the air.
Thick fingers paw at the hem of your dress.
You are
elusive.

You attack with a smile
targeting only me.
I have married you fifty times
in my dreams, in yours, and raised a family with you by my side.
But I am like all the rest of those men who were enamored.
I am
mistaken.

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