Sonnet 18 - Bryan Ferry (mp3)
If You Want My Love (live) - Cheap Trick (mp3)
It's rough. It just might not only be unimpressive but also unsalvageable. But it's a Friday, and it's the last day I'll ever be 36, and I feel like posting a poem, dammit.
High Chair
We are drooling love-eaters
Love lands on our trays
in bite-sized chunks
Some of it stringy and fibrous
others sweet and plump
We squish love in our fingers
We cram it into our jaws
Can we ever ingest enough
to want down from that chair?
To feel a belly overplump
with the basic nutrients?
Like celery our bodies burn love
calories faster than we devour them
We are often picky
leaving the greens and vitamin-rich
portions untouched to grow stale
banging our dangling feet
against the plastic footrest
the treble shill of objection
our desperate grab for control
Just mewling bottomless pits
who eat love out of house and home
-- January 22, 2009
2 comments:
Cute picture.
Poetry is everywhere this week.
NIce piece. You need to work on the title, though. I would say it is worthwhile and certainly a worthy accomplishment if you indeed wrote this in short order while watching TV. Next time, turn off the TV. Kids are much better off without it.
I like poetry. I don't read it much except on blogs. My brother has a volume of college literature student type poetry in his guest's toilet. Every time I'm in a reading posture in his bathroom I always think, "I should read more poetry." Maybe every bathroom should be equipped with a proper book of poetry.
Nice blog. Cheers.
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