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Shine
by George Hoerner
is it the tick
of the clock’s tock
that pushes me
through the sun’s day
and past the moon’s night
or the jingle or
the tingle of
the phone’s inquiry
as to my whereabouts
maybe it’s the bitter
words of twitter
thrown through the ether
that jangles the nerves
something drives me
day to night
makes me think
i might be right
is it all just
the hidden delight
held between her thighs
or is there more
hiding deep behind
her light blue eyes
between the ears
behind the eyes
we think we think
but do we think
with feeling
how many hours
days years
will our lust last
for mind or body
save our soul
from self destruction
how long will
your body or mind
provide amusement
or amazement
before it becomes
bored with the attention
how long before
the sun refuses
to shine
02/02/2010 Posted on 02/05/2010
Copyright © 2024 George Hoerner
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Therese Elaine on 02/05/10 at 04:29 PM Well despite the old adage, 'nothing is permanent' -I think if you choose a partner that is an equal, the desire for body and mind never really fades or dies -changes perhaps, shifts and as with all things, has an ebb and flow throughout the years -but doesn't really die. |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 02/05/10 at 04:47 PM Great word play and mix of style and substance. |
| Posted by Joan Serratelli on 02/05/10 at 06:08 PM I love the style of the piece- a great read- from beginning to end. Love the flow- thanks- a quality piece. |
| Posted by Allison Smith on 02/05/10 at 11:24 PM Nice description in this piece. Some of it played to me like a childs story, I loved it. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 02/06/10 at 04:15 PM This was a bit of a fun maze, nudging me to pause along the way in its structure. We do continue on, as your last stanza suggests. I enjoyed this very much. |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 03/23/10 at 11:49 AM what I find most fascinates me about questions, is no matter how much we pose them to others or to ourselves they persist in holding on to their enduring and unanswerable qualities. it is this stubborness which appeals to me, which eggs us on the more to try to figure them out which we never do, they being unfigurable. |
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