Picture Albom

So, I love his sentimentality,
it's a reality with which I deal daily.
Many losses and defections,
derelictions and deflections
bring some regrets. But you can bet
the pitch that Mitch proffers,
offers some food for hungry thought.
I ought to grip bootstraps and pull,
but you'll never see me flee what to me
are precious memories; sentimentalities. 
Who would be my Morrie?
Which five people would fill my afterlife dance card?
What would one day more portend?
How can I pretend to have a little faith
when people never stick around long enough
to show the possibilities; memories, sentimentalities?
I can envision my life through these tender vignettes,
it gets me misty to look through this picture book,
this photo Albom of my arrival. In all,
it aids in my survival, these sentimentalities.
These are memories of my realities.

© JPW - 2013

POETS UNITED - Verse First: Writers Are Lovers

He Said. She Said

He said, “Good Morning! A lovely day isn’t it?”

She said nothing and smiled.

He said, “ I hope you’re feeling better today!”

She said, “I’d be doing much better if you’d stop talking to me!”

He said “Fine!” and walked away

Days passed, sight unseen

and it had been

as long since they “talked”

as long as he’d walked.

The phone rang!

He said, “Hello.” He knew who it could be when

She said, “I’ve been thinking!”

He said he felt like he had been drinking

She said, “ I have this sinking feeling I’m falling!”

He said he knew there was a reason she was calling!

He said, “I noticed your number. You’ve been calling…”

She said to herself, “He’s stalling”

He admitted saying, “I’m stalling. I’m not sure…”

She said, “I’m sorry I bothered you!’

He said “Fine!” put the phone away.

Weeks passed, sound unheard

And it had been

So absurd when they “talked”

As long as he’d balked.

The phone rang!

He said, “Hello?” He wasn’t sure she would call back,

She said, “Look I admitted my feelings…” her head was reeling,

He said, stealing her thunder, “Don’t you wonder what I was going to say?”

She said, “When, the other day when I went away? Yes” she said  to her dismay!

He said by the way, “I’m not sure… but I think I’m falling too!”

Minutes passed, he was gassed

And it had been two miles

He had run to see her smile.

It was the longest while.

The doorbell rang!

She said, “What do YOU want?

He said “We were falling…”

She said “I feel sick again. It appears I was calling…”

He said sadly, “…the wrong number?”

She said, “Yes. But I guess since you’re already here, d’you have time for a beer?”

The bottle was passed, they were gassed

It seems they had a good time

And it cost not a dime.

Now they meet every Tuesday, same time!

Wedding Bells ring?

© JPW – 2013

Poets United – Verse First: “He Said, She Said”

Wonderful

You want to pull up stakes and make
a beeline out of dodge, but the old codger
has a score to settle; he tests your resolve
as your spirits wander. Under watchful eyes
your wish for non-existence is granted
and every man, woman and Zuzu is lesser
for it. Your brother dies, as do the guys
on his ship. You weren't there to save them.
Your mother sees another boarder,
not a son at all. You fall from her grace; losing face.
A bad Martini drives you to drink and  in the Nick of time,
a strange angel gets his wings on your dime!
You think you've wasted your life with so much to give.
This is the place to be, and the people you need to touch.
Is that asking too much of life?

© JPW - 2013

Poets United - Verse First: We Are Interconnected

Outta Whack

“He’s not quite right” she said,

never knowing if her suspicions

were correct, but what did she

expect from  a guy who gave her

the evil eye. Oh sure, he called it flirting

but he was skirting the issue.

And she wasn’t really sure what to make

of his attitude, since her gratitude

was out of character for

a character such as she.

She took what she wanted

and never took any crap.

So this sorry sap had her pegged.

He said, “She’s not quite right”.

A match made in heaven, the future was bright

for Mr. and Mrs. Not Quite Right!

© JPW – 2013

Poets United - Verse First ~ Just Past Center

Conflagration

Molten heat, flesh dripping
with the perspiration of passion's fire.
Crimson patches with crusted edges;
blisters of the resistant strain of hearts
wanting
more to ignite and burn in sacrifice;
the stench of charred skin,
a blood offering to the gods who pander
to  longing. 
The pyre broils unbridled, arms out-
s  t  r  e  t  c  h  e  d and reaching to
breach the ford between
love and lust. A bridge.
It is what is, from the sanctuary
of solitary souls. Barren.
No one watches,
no one sees from whence smoke rises.
Immolation 
becomes my affliction,
setting myself ablaze for adulation's sake,
an implosion of inward emotions laid bare.
And there, where only ash remains
a powdered stain where once hearts conjoined.

© JPW 2013


POETS UNITED - Verse First - Right Under Your Nose

ORDERED CHAOS DEFINED (O.C.D.)

My Music:

Give me a song with a beat,

make my feet move

to a groove I can dance to;

take a chance to find

romance too, if I’ve a mind to.

Melody matters; lyric flatters,

I can’t carry a tune for shit,

but if it’s a hit I can fake it

as long as you can take it.

Give me a song with a beat.

My Team,

is a nightmare, dressed as a dream,

conforming to sports passion

with the team’s current fashion.

Anything for a buck,

and it’s just my luck -

we’re still in contention

for dishonorable mention.

I swallow my pride,

don my paper bag and hide.

Give out a cheer, “There’s always next year!”

My Meter Is Running.

This muse of mine

works just fine. 

But I laugh and I scoff

because I can’t turn it off.

I can fill any form

and make my words swarm

but, a terse verse

keeps repeating on me.

It can only get worse,

when hooked on poetry.

 © JPW 2013

Poets United -Verse First ~ Original Obsessions
(Three of your obsessions as three stanzas of your poem)