Greetings, Gentle Reader. I’m actually preparing this post immediately after writing Post the Seventy-Second, and I’m afraid that I’m in rather a drear frame of mind. Therefore, your poems for today reflect that. Enjoy!The Heavens As featureless as Sunday Sky My future loves lie plain: Cloudbanks stretched to breaking point, Anticipating rain. It can’t compare to sunny days, When I loved you in vain. Never were the skies more clear, Reflected in your eyes, When you let me drink from them, And tell you all my lies. I mourn my past, the silly fool – He’s been eulogized. And now the clouds roll back again, And I drink, more and more, I wonder why it can’t remain Like it was, before: I sniff your shirt I stole: I sob, And lay back on the floor. Business Hours The world has lost her edges, As though viewed through thick glass Shatters – glass dust – the merest drizzle; The clouds of a thursday that will never know light – Implying what may or may not be the sun, Reflecting, Refracting, My thoughts, today. Those birds are inappropriate, And the roses will not stop their clatter. Each part and participle Violently object to everything. The unceasing moo of the girl I detest Is the only music within me today. I stare, uncomprehending, then rise and walk away. I am not quite alive enough to worry if she is offended.
©2013 by Tyler J. Yoder. All rights reserved