|
And God Created Heartbreak
by Philip F De Pinto
I
Something was and something wasn't
Until something reconciled to be both
Such as she the something headed in my direction
And she the something that was not
But reconciled to stop midway
I mustered the courage to go to the one that stopped midway
Told her I loved her and that she made my heart sing
She said well isn't that just an antiquated way to look at a thing?
Then took herself out of pause and began walking in the other direction
I rushed behind to spin her around
And asked if she loved me too?
She looked straight ahead and said
Is that a rhetorical question?
II
Six days you took to create heartbreak
Then you rested until it dawned on you on the eight
To create a coffee break
One day you woke and this you spoke
I will wag an old wives tale
Create seasons as move fast and fade
Spin a sun out of belly lint
Then set the lint on fire
Before you woke
No one's heart was broke
And that was because
There was no man
Or woman to break such
No light to contradict the shade
And not be so cruel
As they do to boats
Man them with crew and sail and wind
When tides are enough
Before you woke
Who was there to create
Me the party boy
Celebrating his first day and the woman
The woman to burst through the cake
In fits of surprise
Then break my heart
Before the day turned two
Before God made man
Whose heart was there to break?
Before God made man
Whose heart was there
For that woman to break?
His own perhaps?
Before God spun a sun out of his own belly lint
Then lit contrary to shade
So we could see all the fun we were missing
What was there to turn us around
Before God twirled whirlwinds
In the cotton candy machine?
III
This much came to pass
I was almost what you thought of me
And you were nearly what I thought of myself
And it was what we were thinking almost or nearly of ourselves
That broke the spell and had I the notion to believe otherwise
As you had that spells could be mended
And they would have been if it wasn't so obvious
You had had enough and oh that I could almost call your bluff
And digits move roadrunner quick
And you'd ring and return to me
Like the carriage on my Underwood
Save the arthritic memory sets in
And gums the works
And keys barely move or seasons
And they've been three
Since I gazed upon you last
This much came to pass
I was almost what you thought of me
And you were nearly what I thought of myself
And it was what we were thinking
Almost or nearly of ourselves
That broke the spell
Which takes two to mend
Into something that was or wasn't
And something reconciled between the two
That my heart may dictate faster
Than stenographer can type
More than wind can move the seasons
And they've been three
Since I gazed upon you last
And love which is the last thing God wagged
In our faces and said well what do you think of this
May be an old wives tale
But it is enough of a brush
To dust the picture of you
Hanging still in the Louvre of my introspection
And who is there in me
To weave the seasons of unending monsoons
Turn his knob
Endearing as would make him sob
Coupling hands
Strolling through lemon groves
To pluck the one or two
To pare and squeeze into astringent
For the hearts ever widening fissures
IV
Love
Don't be so quick to leave
Don't be so cruel
To do to driftwood
What you do to boat
Man it with crew and sexton
And wind when tides are sufficient
Love
Don't be at a loss
And so quick
To run out of fuel
Love
Don't be so cruel
As to attach the anchor
Of your albatross round our neck
As would be a snag
To drift and hope
03/21/2015 Posted on 03/21/2015
Copyright © 2024 Philip F De Pinto
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 03/24/15 at 05:39 PM Philip, this seems to me to be the pinnacle of what I call your unrequited love series. That number II is both mythic and a fire unto itself. Elvis could sing this and come out looking even better. Bobby Vinton would swoon at the blues in this. It touches the sad button hard. |
| Posted by Kris Mara on 03/27/15 at 12:26 AM you have such a way with crafting words that always leaves me stunned...the words in this are intricately woven, yet are so directly on point that even in the (fantastic) sounds that carry down the page your intent is never lost...great to read you today... |
| Posted by Nadia Gilbert Kent on 04/01/15 at 07:07 PM God also created the need to have something to prove, and we must thank them profusely. I think you proved it well here, as per usual. Part II (and the few lines leading into it) strikes me the most. So eloquently and authentically panicked. |
|
