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Archive for June, 2012

Engagement Ring

When you called to tell me
there wouldn’t be a second date,
I couldn’t help thinking I
might have bought that
engagement ring a little too soon.

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The Grilled Lamb

I’m in an elegant restaurant
which has received praise from many of the local critics.
I choose the grilled lamb with mint jelly,
and a garden salad on the side.

As my meal is being prepared,
I get to thinking about how I’d feel
if a lamb ordered the grilled me with mint jelly,
and a garden salad on the side.

My food arrives beautifully presented on the plate,
but I can’t stand the thought of digesting,
let alone putting in my mouth,
this once living thing who
used to have hopes and dreams.

I ask the waiter for the bill,
and he inquires if anything is wrong
with a confused look on his face,
staring down at the grilled lamb
that has yet to be touched.

After paying, I head out the door,
the garden salad in a box,
just in case I decide to ever eat again,
sadly realizing that as I fall asleep tonight
there will be one less sheep to count.

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One Shot

I was given one shot
and I missed the mark.
I’d like to say it’s because
I was blinded by love,
but deep down in my heart
I know it’s because
I was aiming in the dark.

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The Climber

I went for a walk through my neighborhood today,
since the sun decided to show up late rather than never.
I turned on some music to drown out nature’s own songs,
and focused my attention on a book of poetry recently purchased.

Not that I was oblivious to the bee buzzing to and fro,
searching for just the right plant worthy of its precious time.
Nor did I miss the biker, or maybe there were two,
speeding by as I proceeded at a leisurely pace.

At one point I looked down to see a green bug,
reminding me of a microscopic lime with legs,
crawling up the shoulder of my red v-neck,
a climber making a daring ascent up the most difficult mountain,
hoping to reach the peak unscathed.

The slight breeze was nice on such a hot day,
like a handful of ice cubes in a glass,
keeping the contents of this city at a cool temperature.

I passed a house with a lovely garden.
The flowers couldn’t have been better tended to or more colorful.
Tempted as I was by the sight of their beauty,
I couldn’t bring myself to get close enough to smell them.

The bug previously mentioned had made its way to my neck,
and it tickled my skin with its graceful crawl.
I picked up a fallen branch from the ground
and coaxed the brave climber onto the tip,
its victory snatched away at the very last moment.

Retracing the steps I’d taken,
I found myself back in my air-conditioned home.
In my study, with Chopin playing softly in the background,
I thought about the friend I’d made,
wondered if we’d ever meet again,
or if it was already halfway up Mt. Vinson by now.

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Happy Book

If one smiles a hundred times but frowns twice,
does it mean they’re depressed?
Do negative words mean a lot,
and positive ones much less?

Is a happy book defined by
a blotch of ink here and there,
or is it more about the story as a whole
that somebody has to share?

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Places for the Dead

I’ve got my finger on the trigger,
trying to decide what I should do.
There isn’t a reason to go on.
I have nothing left to lose.

I’m loved by none.
I feel so empty.
I love this gun.
Death couldn’t be more tempting.

What will it be like after I escape?
Will I fade into the night,
and be forgotten by day?

Is there somewhere else I’ll go?
Are there really places for the dead?
Will I ascend up into heaven
or get what I deserve instead?

The future is uncertain,
but I’m certain I can’t stay here.
Not after what I’ve done.
Not after causing so much fear.

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Stranger

I feel like a stranger in my own home,
a phantom that haunts the halls at night.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to be.
Maybe my soul has already died.

I’m a stranger in my own home.
The faces I see aren’t warm, but cold.
They go by without any sign of recognition,
and never before have I felt so alone.

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