Open skies and angry voices
pit-pit-patter on the roof
and where are you?
Now come these days
there's nothing but the wind
consolling me
and where are you?
where did you go again?
You're a forgotten art,
a fleeting dream.
I shall declare,
"Put the blame on poetry!"
my twisted bit of therapy
for the mangled bits of me
on occasional doggy days
like here and now.
so where are you?

My pen-to-paper lovesong
has turned flat and dry and lifeless
lifeless lovesongs have no place among us
crumpled up
and thrown into the wind
where are you?
a poem written for the world
to see in ink on parchment
or in pixels on a screen
I fear you leaving me
I fear my own motionless hands-
oh where are you?
where have you gone?

When all snippets of life
are going like clockwork,
when life has upturned
the corners of my lips
(ever-so-gently),
you leave me once again!
... a balance I suppose
to bounding happiness.
-Or, perhaps a simple game.
A child-like game of hide and seek
I'm seeking
I promise, I'm seeking
(perhaps you're just cheating.)

Why why why
oh why oh why
Can I not write
with a slouch and a smile?
Poems, I suppose,
are easiest written with passion,
and not with contentment.
This, then,
is a challenge
a challange accepted.
I'm here, my pen drawn
where are you?

06/04/2003

Posted on 06/04/2003
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