Rhyme Royal

To waste one’s time on something like rhyme royal:
It hardly seems a wise thing, nowadays —
For why to purblind history be loyal
When modern times lie tangled in a maze,
And ancient forms be so far out of phase?

(It hardly seems the proper thing to do,
  And sets a barrier twixt me and you –)

For what is “form” but artifice, and cant?
There is no clamor in the reading space
For words in blocks that ought to be aslant,
Or sentences less meaning and more pace,
That do not know, or keep, their proper place.

(Observatories, though, may ancient be
  And still have much to say to you and me)

Through Struggling

I learned to use these things at school through struggling;
My printing poor, my cursive even worse —
A dearth of what I think they still call motor skills,
Although I tried to fight against that curse —

But yet, I loved to draw, I liked the colors:
So I worked at it like a sledding dog —
Most undeterred by not being that gifted,
The same way I now go about a blog

Blindness

The flower shop: the smell, just as he pays:
He has to close his eyes to see the light —
For pressed and blurry are his current days,
As life transitions to a sort of night

Wherever he can see, he stops to gaze;
Whatever he can feel, he tries to write:
A search for color in a turn of phrase,
Of love that soars and flutters as a kite

But all of it is tangled. It’s a maze.
And whether hazed in gray, or black, or white,
He cannot strip away the ego glaze
That keeps him from the truth, albeit slight —

For blindness isn’t new to him, it’s just
Accepting it
                            and living as he must

Blog Lonely

“To bathe in the warmth of affection”

Blog Lonely

People, they long for connection
They yearn to be touched, to be heard;
To bathe in the warmth of affection
To soak in a passionate word

They worry their time has receded
That they won’t escape from their shell:
People, they want to be needed
And need to be wanted
As well

Near Miss

Years ago
I knew this girl
With a beautiful face and
A beautiful heart

And I didn’t fall in love with her
Nor did I date her

Just in case readers of this blog
Might have started to think
That never happened to me

As a matter of fact, she is now around 50
Like I am
And she’s still beautiful
And we’re still friends

Truthfully, I am still friends with
Virtually all of my
Ex-girlfriends
Mis-dates
Even my ex-wife

Possibly because
None of them know about this blog

I would hope, however, they would approve
Of the models I choose to represent them
In the stock photos I use on these pieces

Anyway, this girl
Looked like the model in the picture above
And she was always cold
Even during Florida summers

And last year, online
As we exchanged pleasantries
She told me that
She had a cat years ago
That she named after me

Because he was so bizarre

And I kind of liked that

The Dating Blogger (A Cautionary Tale)

She wrote often on intimate subjects;
He obsessed often about them.
So, to his mind,
They were perfect for each other.

And she lived in the very same city!
So, he contrived to meet her;
Fascinated with this beautiful woman
Who wrote so passionately about
Enjoying physical relations with men —
Sex without relationships.

So, he did meet her.
She was polite, but, most definitely,
Not interested.
He was confused and angry.
How could this be?

Oh, my poor unfortunate friend:
Just because she enjoys dating men,
Doesn’t mean she wants to be with you;
And “Sex without relationships”
Doesn’t mean “Sex with people
You aren’t attracted to.”

The moral of the story
For heterosexual guys looking for
Sex without relationships
Is as follows.

Attractive jerks:
Welcome to the 21st century!
It is all yours.
But then,
It probably was ever thus.

Unattractive jerks:
Sorry dudes.
Life can really suck.

Of course, you COULD
Look for an actual relationship
With a woman
Not based solely on sex.

There is even a rumor out there
The sex in an actual relationship
Is considerably more satisfying.

The Cheerless Road of Winter

The saddest day I’ve ever had
Lies shrouded there, in time;
The nights I spent among the mad,
These are not yet in rhyme

The cheerless road of winter, where
Despair was born of doubt –
Just like the greatest loss I’ve known
That I don’t write about

Yet, I hope what I do not say’s
Relatable, somehow –
There’s madness in the very air,
It’s all around us now

Still there, within the frozen past,
The branches bare I see;
A lonely road in winter, where
I lost the best
Of me