A poetic apology for spending too much time writing!
"Where are you?"
I flail around within words
Staring out semicolons and hyphens
whipping irregulars into regular submission
So concentrated am I
Upon the deadline, the headline, the by-line
That I have forsaken you.
So where are you now?
Why are you not chasing me?
Sending messages,
Little sweet pleas of hope
Smiles of distant empathy.
Dragging me out from my desk.
Please, skype me, like me, hype me
Kick life into me!
"Where are you?" you tease me.
"Come, speak to me, write to me
I want to hear your verse
Your wit, your soul
I want you to pen lines of love
As you can do and will do and should do.
Your little observations of our intimacy."
Oh, but I am so drowning here, darling!
Spitting out sticky lung excretions of prose,
Tortuous paragraphs of elucidation
That somehow are there to tell
To dwell and swell and meld
Into my laboured landscape,
My fabled people, my long tale!
IT NEVER ENDS!
But be patient, darling
For I will emerge.
I will swim to the surface
Of my own creation and
Throw back my long hair
So tangled with ideology
And I will dance up
Upon your banks
And grasp your hand
And kiss it fully,
Sucking in your fingers
Drawing forth your needs
And your sweet, luscious cries
Of delicious, seditious, injudicious, propitious,
capricious, orgasmitious, ecstasy.
And then I will write again.
For you.
I will pen new lines of
Silly love and lust
I will tease and tickle
And smile as I think of you
Bathing and saving and raising
Your glass to the smiling poem
That says,
Here I declare my love for you.
Just a week more, please.
A little patience, darling
Is all I need.
