deepundergroundpoetry.com
sing lonely, night bird
like the Bard said, her eyes were nothing like the sun.
she wasn’t a goddess who had fallen out of favor on
Olympus & was cast down here to the big Blue. she
wasn’t even an angel without wings, not as far as I
could tell.
she was a woman. but to say ‘just a woman’ would be
foolish; there is no woman who is just a woman.
I didn’t know what her racket was. she might have been married,
or some big shot’s mistress. she might have been something that
I had no right to call her. the dames that take my arm usually are.
so this very ordinary lady, who wasn’t ordinary at all, had a drink
with me & sat close as we talked about mundane things. there
was a motel on the beach that was made for indiscreet drifters
like us. I suggested it, & she agreed…
moonbeams walked delicately across the water, like the little
feet of some misbegotten redeemer, as we watched from the
window. a night bird sang its farewell & soared homeward
toward the sky; then it was quiet.
this entire improbable fairytale didn’t seem justified for two
wayward strangers, but we stole it anyway. I kissed her then, a
sustained, magnificent kiss that was in no hurry to become part
of the history of romance.
after that, my eyes spoke before I could shut them up. ‘you look
at me like someone who’s about to fall in love,’ she said. I was
guilty as charged, but I figured I wouldn’t serve time. her
response, the way she said it, paved a trail of broken hearts.
as the evening furthered its opera of uncertainty, we made love,
for the first & only time. even as our bodies rubbed together in
the unpardoned inferno of our emotions, we knew that this
corona of sexual reckoning, this folly of the gods, would never
occur again in the bitter destiny of this stone planet.
somehow, that made it more beautiful…
(Artist: Damien Hunin)
Published 10th May 2016
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 26
reading list entries 5
comments 21
reads 1627
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
10th May 2016 2:44am
after that, my eyes spoke before I could shut them up. ‘you look
at me like someone who’s about to fall in love,’ she said ...
BRAVO! BRAVO!
You always find ways to remind me why you've long been one of my favorites here, or anywhere for that matter.
at me like someone who’s about to fall in love,’ she said ...
BRAVO! BRAVO!
You always find ways to remind me why you've long been one of my favorites here, or anywhere for that matter.
10th May 2016 3:32am
Truthfully, I have been in that exact situation.
Conceit from a woman that every man she
came into contact with would fall in love with
her. Not so me, in the push and shove of so
called adult behavior, I pushed and never looked back.
Conceit from a woman that every man she
came into contact with would fall in love with
her. Not so me, in the push and shove of so
called adult behavior, I pushed and never looked back.
10th May 2016 4:06am
I don't think anyone else still alive has your touch.
Magnificent writing
Magnificent writing
10th May 2016 4:52am
"moonbeams walked delicately across the water, like the little
feet of some misbegotten redeemer".... your words is what makes it more beautiful... - stunning encounter! Love it when the Bard slides inside your ink.... powerful as per usual ;) blue angel
feet of some misbegotten redeemer".... your words is what makes it more beautiful... - stunning encounter! Love it when the Bard slides inside your ink.... powerful as per usual ;) blue angel
Anonymous
10th May 2016 7:20am
`she was a woman. but to say ‘just a woman’ would be
foolish; there is no woman who is just a woman.'
cracked open the bottle of bourbon, stripped the clothes from my bodice, and near the furnace I sit naked, cheering & crying. . .the depth of your noir ink is very moving. . .Cheers, John. . .~Devlin/Doll
A high-speed trip on the railroad of loss... you know where it's going but it's the ride of your life.
A fabulously good write!
A fabulously good write!
10th May 2016 12:45pm
ah John love your style..
"‘you look
at me like someone who’s about to fall in love,’ she said. I was
guilty as charged, but I figured I wouldn’t serve time."
poetic perfection..
love Crimsin
"‘you look
at me like someone who’s about to fall in love,’ she said. I was
guilty as charged, but I figured I wouldn’t serve time."
poetic perfection..
love Crimsin
Anonymous
- Edited 8th Nov 2018 00:49am
10th May 2016 1:58pm
<< post removed >>
10th May 2016 3:15pm
This reads like a quiet whisper in the wind, soft and sweet like a summer evening breeze loved every morsel you fed us!
Red
Red
Anonymous
10th May 2016 4:15pm
<< post removed >>
10th May 2016 6:58pm
11th May 2016 2:02am
How many lose the beauty of the moment worrying about tomorrow...not these two. Beautifully done, John.
11th May 2016 6:10am
11th May 2016 10:33am
11th May 2016 1:22pm
Mr F, there are so many lines that could qualify as my favorite in the piece that I just can't pick; and the whole is much, much greater than the lines. It's a wonderful piece. As usual you've done it again. This piece goes on my reading list for sure.
John
John
11th May 2016 9:12pm
Brief encounters are often the most memorable despite their fleeting pleasures.. Sounds like your perfect stranger knew the rules. Sorry to hear this interlude was a one time deal, but it's a fine write if that's any consolation.
11th May 2016 11:25pm
So, so Beautiful JohnFeddeler ... too many lines to mention ... and smooth as honey, maybe bittersweet ... to have that connection, even for just a little while can be very beautiful ...
Anonymous
12th May 2016 2:19am
Sir John, you will forever, more times than not leave me speechless with your ink and its ability to have one visualize a scene, hear it, feel it, breezes, temperatures and all... Thank you... I truly thank you. With love always - Taryn xoxo
12th May 2016 8:23am
It's powerfully rendered, perfectly intimate. A single sinuous flowing image and narrative that is graceful. l love most that there is beauty and purpose in every sentence.
12th May 2016 6:51pm
Sir, this poem played in my mind like a movie, the kind of movie that makes you feel like you're there - a voyeur or the people themselves. Ah, I feel light and strangely wistful, hearing the crashing of the waves...and in the aftermath of this lovely poem...I feel like I don't want the blue light to end...may I stay for a while?
Beautiful, sir, just beautiful.
Beautiful, sir, just beautiful.
13th May 2016 4:32am
the ending was the icing on the cake,a sweet treat..Expertly Crafted Scribe John ..i really enjoyed!!!!
