A Poem of Eloquent Pain

Mine makes sense only if you have read Margaret's.

The Insignificance of Words
by MargaretG


The end, the insignificance of words.
You loved me as you seem to love so many;
they cluster 'round you like so many birds
that feed on seeds, a handful for a penny.
For when I needed solace, you absented,
and said my anger surfaced without reason;
but after months of brooding, I relented,
to let leaves fall and end the fatal season.
And in your absence I would wish you knew
that I am doing fine without attention,
a paradoxic wish in bright and blue,
which I will always be too proud to mention.
I learned from you to heed a lover's actions
and not his words, which only are distractions.

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It inspired my reply:

A Poem of Eloquent Pain

Words tumble over what came before
tripping over what comes next...
the guilt I felt and so deplore
has enveloped me in your text.

I have known what you have shown
and too, felt the loss it means.
But worse with neglect in my own
busy, encumbered shouldabeens
of no great import. I have known
few will bother, or have seen
what I have laboured and outgrown.
I am not as I should have been.

I live in words that all ignore,
ephemerals too late to restore.

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What has held me prisoner?
www.mattaweb.ca

Hardly even begun.

Terry 23 September 2008