You broke my heart, as brothers sometimes do,
and look at you, you're pathetic. A simpering,
whimpering Don Juan-a-be. Bimbos and markers,
donkey shows and Johnny Ola have taken their toll.
I had control of the five families and there
our similarities took a decided turn. If you'd only learn,
"Never take sides with anyone against the family again!"
You're nothing to me now. You're not a brother, not a friend.
If anything in this life is certain, if history has taught us anything,
it is that you can kill anyone. Pray for the fishes,
you'll be sleeping with them now!
© JPW - 2013
dVerse Poets Pub - Poetics Italian-Style
Poets United - Poetry Pantry #171
Standing as three, worn and forlorn,
for at morning’s first light, your flight
will have flown. Had I thought goodbyes
would be this hard, I would have just
sent a card. I won’t get all fuzzy and warm,
that’s the coward’s way. I can’t get
all stiff and cold – no heart of tin,
what can I say? My head’s not in it. I rise,
I fall sleep and dream that this technicolor
existence would persist once we’ve kissed
and waved adieu. But it is you who is going,
your gingham flowing and throwing caution
to the wind, you set adrift. I’ll just make
the jaundiced journey back to where I belong.
The walk will be long without you beside me.
But you’ve hung me out to dry, so to hell
with goodbye! Hit the brick road.
That goes for your little dog, too!
I hate green!
© JPW - 2013
Poetic Asides by Robert Lee Brewer - "On the Road..." Prompt #238
Poets United: Poetry Pantry #169
Standing as three, worn and forlorn,
for at morning’s first light, your flight
will have flown. Had I thought goodbyes
would be this hard, I would have just
sent a card. I won’t get all fuzzy and warm,
that’s the coward’s way. I can’t get
all stiff and cold – no heart of tin,
what can I say? My head’s not in it. I rise,
I fall sleep and dream that this technicolor
existence would persist once we’ve kissed
and waved adieu. But it is you who is going,
your gingham flowing and throwing caution
to the wind, you set adrift. I’ll just make
the jaundiced journey back to where I belong.
The walk will be long without you beside me.
But you’ve hung me out to dry, so to hell
with goodbye! Hit the brick road.
That goes for your little dog, too!
I hate green!
© JPW - 2013
Poetic Asides by Robert Lee Brewer - "On the Road..." Prompt #238
Poets United: Poetry Pantry #169