I don’t think that
If I write ten
Thousand or a hundred
Ten thousand of poems
Will I ever expunge
The weight of my
Broken heart and only
Upon my own death
Will I at last
Be free and finally
Find loves comfort modicum
Category: Start/End Relationships
Tourists
I imagine that my
Heart is like a
Bus filled with tourists
On their way to
The Vatican each with
It’s own purpose many
To be splendidly wowed
Others for the gelato
A few for blessings
Each elbowing the others
For room some even
Saying mama mia as
They’re pressed like garlic
So many so packed
Believing that there’s something
There at the end
Yuck
Love has a bitter
Aftertaste it lingers and
Like a dog that’s
Just eaten a bug
I spit and wipe
And wretch and gargle
And swish and finally
After the circus has
Left town I can
Once maybe cautiously taste
Love again but with
One eye closed obviously
EyeOfTheHeart
Stuck in the middle
Between hither and nigh
Rock and hard place
The present and past
Squeezed in vices jaws
You simply can’t breathe
There’s that thing over
There that once was
Sweet comfortable and succulent
But has now soured
And this thing here
Plump exciting and promising
Cautious teasing and playful
Turning away from one
And towards the other
Causes a hearts thunderstorm
Cold and warm fronts
Colliding and me the
Kansas town hunkering down
Hoping for the best
WhatOnceWas
There was certainly before
And then there was
When and now there’s
Now and tomorrow might
Be coming but love
Is like water itself
Sometimes rain sometimes monsoon
And the heart a
Creek bed capable hardly
Always able to handle
The deluge of storms
Breaking banks tearing apart
Leaving waste and destruction
Until at last time
Redefines what was once
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 