deepundergroundpoetry.com
closer to broken
she’s too much woman, she carries too much love inside.
it’s so expansive, it hurts her & makes her cry. she has enough tears
for both of us, she tells me, & she offers me a goblet full of her weeping;
a vintage of regret, all blonde & lonely like Marilyn Monroe.
but tough guys don’t cry, it says so in the manual. Bogart never cried for
any woman except Ilsa. he was drunk at the time & Paris was closer
than he figured, so that justified it. he could lay out romance that wasn’t
even in the script, but he never wrote a poem, as far as I know.
she comes on like a skylark right off Shelley’s lips, hits me with hardcore
dialogue for star-crossed lovers, when all I want is to get laid. I’ve been a
long time between French kisses, holed up in bars where the jukebox
only spins sad songs.
I’m her first good lover & her last, & never again will she tramp for the
cruel hands of another man. but ‘never again’ has not been crossed off the
calendar, at least not mine. her hair hangs in Irish curls like it don’t give a
damn & her eyes have a pensive look that she didn’t put there on purpose:
some guys go for that.
when I tell her she’s pretty for a tall girl, she takes it to mean I am hip to
her country fair beauty & I would wait for a bus to get to her place, I’d walk
up a cracked crystal staircase to kiss her.
I’d wait out the storm with her in a book shop with the door locked & the
shade drawn, drinking decent whiskey from the flask in my pocket,
but she is the deep forbidden colors of a lost rainbow,
and I am a rainy-day soldier in black&white…
(Art: Piero Toffano)
Published 12th Nov 2016
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 11
reading list entries 2
comments 8
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12th Nov 2016 7:45pm
I could lose myself in you and your poetry John.. I feel every line caress me..
love Crim
love Crim
12th Nov 2016 7:59pm
'I’d wait out the storm with her in a book shop with the door locked & the
shade drawn, drinking decent whiskey from the flask in my pocket,
but she is the deep forbidden colors of a lost rainbow,
and I am a rainy-day soldier in black&white…'
No better place to wait out a storm, decent whiskey, good company and all those forbidden colors lost within the black and white of a forgotten rainbow.
Beautiful work, John....
13th Nov 2016 4:56am
Wow... I have no words for this, except that I got lost within the piece and the imagery came across like cracked crystal staircase, etc. An amazing and wonderful piece all at the same time.
13th Nov 2016 8:32am
a portrait with heartbreaking distance - as you turn the camera
With wit and clarity
"Goblet of her weeping"
With wit and clarity
"Goblet of her weeping"
13th Nov 2016 10:24am
Anonymous
13th Nov 2016 7:29pm
"she’s too much woman, she carries too much love inside.
it’s so expansive, it hurts her & makes her cry. she has enough tears
for both of us"
*
"but she is the deep forbidden colors of a lost rainbow,
and I am a rainy-day soldier in black&white…"
sounds very much like two people I know quite well....breathtaking write as always
~ Áine
it’s so expansive, it hurts her & makes her cry. she has enough tears
for both of us"
*
"but she is the deep forbidden colors of a lost rainbow,
and I am a rainy-day soldier in black&white…"
sounds very much like two people I know quite well....breathtaking write as always
~ Áine
14th Nov 2016 11:32am
The beautiful picture dragged me into this poem and fascination kept me there.
Damn good write.
Damn good write.
15th Nov 2016 1:55am
"her hair hangs in Irish curls like it don’t give a
damn" . . . tis only a master's quill to delight so divinely. Black and white never appeared so boldly! warmly yours; blue angel
damn" . . . tis only a master's quill to delight so divinely. Black and white never appeared so boldly! warmly yours; blue angel
