There is no poetry without you

 

 

 

 

There is no poetry without you

 

 

Softly flows the sunset colors

painted on tired skies with fire

Igniting a wafting cloud in orchid tints,

the fresh scent of pine lingering within its escape

 

Drowsy horizons boast their claim

along seaside waverings in salted mist

Romance swims on shorelines engulfed

with all of the pageantry a white cap stanza can bring

 

And I whistle as I walk along,

taking in this wonder that has followed me home

Resting on a porch swing, feet off the ground

as morning glories sleep beyond white painted balustrades

 

Satin fingers intertwine with mine,

milk pudding lips bring their flavor to me

Luscious frosting in a whipped frenzy

coating my mouth in sugary mass

 

I point to the sky, the stars they beckon,

heart shaped constellations for two

Twinkling in your twilight eyes

as I reach for my pen and pad

 

Only to realize that this indeed is my imagination,

lounging on a worn out sofa, tattered cushions,

empty beer cans acting like so many ashtrays

leaving wet rings on a table, but who cares

 

There was a time when poetry flowed

from these nicotine stained fingers

in paisley emotions and violet scentings

climbing the arbor of love

 

But since you left,

leaving behind the shadows which claim my eyes

my ink is dry and my paper tossed, tiny balls in random patterns

on a floor that begs carpeting, but only bares soiled footprints

 

As I struggle to my feet, to the front window

desperately waiting for the grass to grow and butterflies…

I stab the wooden sill with my pen, I need it no more, for…

there is no poetry without you…and never will be again

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

Thank you for reading

Captcha - Bodiless

Reviews

[NeiL ArandA]

This is sweet and beautiful Jack . Indeed Poetry spills from the cracks of abroken heart and spills from the one that is loved .

[Jack...]

Thanks so very much my friend.

[Frieda P]

The imagery here is off the charts Jack, albeit a bittersweet poetic melody, sounds like something my dear Leonard Cohen might sing.

There was a time when poetry flowed
from these nicotine stained fingers
in paisley emotions and violet scentings
climbing the arbor of love

Poetry flows from your every pore my friend, it's in your soul.... ;-)

Now clean up those empty beer cans and ashtrays, I know you've got more masterpieces to pen! xo

[Jack...]

Hey, what can I say, it was the maids day off. Thanks Frieda, it is uncanny how just uttering a few words to someone special can cause poetry to come out of hiding. I always enjoy when you visit my world and I will clean up this mess before you come to visit again.

[Frieda P]

So so true Jack...just have the Pouilly-Fuisse chilled and it's all good my friend ;-)

[Tina Louise UK]

The first five stanza create such a beautiful picture..then the reader is quickly drawn back to the stark reality of the writer and it is quite heartbreaking. A lost love and muse...a well crafted heartfelt piece..enjoyed very much :) x

[Jack...]

Thanks so much. This was written based on something I said to someone yesterday. I appreciate your kind words.

[Cassie]

The imagery here is so good and I could see you all along on that sofa with imaginations of her. Good job jack

[Jack...]

Thanks so very much my friend. Glad you enjoyed this. I'd would have straightened up the house a bit if I knew you were going to visit. :)