Ah yes, ah yes, I love, I love,
I love, I love you so,
And even though it's killing me,
I just can't let you go.
And every night, I pray, I pray
To be like all the rest.
And sometimes, love, yes sometimes,
Sometimes, I pass the test.
Yes love, I too can fake smile,
And gossip o'er the fence,
In fact, I'm now an expert
At lying and pretense.
Ah yes, I do still love you,
Through existential strife.
Ah yes, I do still love you,
But I can't live this life.
Ruth Powers, copyright 2009
Disclaimer: Please don't confuse the author of this poem with the speaker in this poem.
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Love the fact that I am not entirely sure what this alludes to... seems to work on a couple of different levels.
ReplyDeleteAnd I do think it's funny the way people tend to automatically assume creative works are autobiographical.
I guess it's just a kind of a lament of an unusual person who feels trapped in an "ordinary" life. Something like that.
ReplyDeleteBut it's so true. If I write a poem that is sad, or angry, some people say, "Oh how dare so and so for making you feel that way." Which is not correct on many different levels.
I can truly relate to this poem Ruth, there is not an honest soul who couldn't. Your a really insightful poetress.
ReplyDeleteThanks Anon,
ReplyDeleteAppreciate you reading my poetry and sharing your response.
I just check back to see if you are writing. Not that you have to. I just have liked your poems:-)
ReplyDeleteDr. J.,
ReplyDeleteWhy, shucks (blushing)!
Actually, I've been biking, walking, running, gardening, and enjoying our beautiful Spring. Think I'll probably get back into more writing soon, but I'm just loving being outside so much, it's hard to want to use any free time for anything else.