As love now rests within its box,
I reflect upon its vagaries
and realize
just how absurd such emotions are...
and how self-centered
such portraits become.
When one first falls, headlong,
he should be shot,
or drawn and quartered
or have the Clockwork Orange,
the Nineteen Eighty-four
done on his sorry ass.
I will not mourn another loss
should the clasp break on the box,
and the heart spill onto the floor
once more...
no,
I will stab the feckless organ
and feed it to my cynical mind,
which preys upon the bathos of love
and it's transcendence from poignancy to
mawkishness.
Yes, It shall be a mockumentary to me.
For my psyche knows that hemorrhaging
looks dramatic on black velvet
-- on celluloid,
as purple prose
for this little stage,
way, way off Broadway.
I was an actor,
and loss was my muse
Ha!
A quaint name for self-indulgence!
But I will take my little box,
and I'll peek in at love,
and will give it morsels
of false sentiment
until the day it hardens
and learns
not to betray me,
nor to sting the heart that covets it.
My little love,
how it aches to grow
how it seeks the swoon of another,
No, not just another
it knows its aim --
pathetic rage, unworthy of the ardor
it bleeds to profess.
Show it no mercy beneath the scrutiny,
make it know the heart is not
a voodoo doll,
train it like a vine, to spiral upward
surrounding affection,
but not to stifle.
Little love,
when you arise from your box,
breathe the common air
so that you will beat strong.
And I will not need,
to thrust my dagger within,
and thus confess failures,
in torrents of indulgence --
like every love I have freed before.
Author notes
Make no assumptions. It's just a poem.
In a list
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A Shocking Tale Of Horror!
Comments
1 - 14 of 14
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Some hearts beat outside the box, but they surely live better when sharing emotions with another heart.
This just a poem is the kind of almost sad but still holds a soft tone of something that isn't sadness...
I have in mind but can't express what it is lol
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I know what you are saying headless horseman. (Sorry, your avatar)
There is always beneath my cynicism a ray of hope and belief. It's why I always said I am an optimistic pessimist.
And like the wise Sandy said, sometimes I'm just full of crap.
Thank you, the bottom half of your face looks nice. Maybe Gaze has the top half?
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I am curious...
What does it mean to be "drawn and quartered?" I hope it might define as a person posing so that artists might draw him, and then they pay him lots and lots and lots of quarters for the experience.
I would do that. I would love to draw and quarter you. 
lol I love your poem, you can tell. 
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Drawn and quartered is to tie someone's arms and legs to four horses and have them pull a person apart.
A lot of people would love to draw and quarter me, lol
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forgot to clap...I did enjoy this btw
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the human condition has long struggled with the thoughts/ descisions of thinkings with the brain or with the heart...
Egyptions thought the brain was useless, they removed it from dead pharoahs, but boxed/bottled the heart. What if we are to meant to think with our hearts? It would give new meaning to "think outside the box" with your poem.Then again...Pandora had a box. What if her heart was inside?
Ponderings...lol... -
"that hemorrhaging
looks dramatic on black velvet
-- on celluloid,
in purple prose penned"
This really jumps out at me, thinking of a dime a dozen black velvet Elvises lined up on at a corner gas station. Cheapening the portrait in a sense making it gawdy which you further emphasize with the term "purple prose" which to me speaks of the sappy scribblings of a love infected person...regretting the portait purchase as well as the love struck ramblings.
So many things end up in boxes when you think about it. I think a lil box of love would keep rustling though, trying to seek attention, banging the sides, clawing its way through trying to break free of its confines. You can tape it, tie it, chain it. It's an escape artist...like Houdini.
On the other hand, sometimes when something is packed away for a bit, it brings joy when its rediscovered.
I think I'm done now
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Amazing comment. I'd forgotten why you were my friend, lol Seriously, a wondeful comment.
''trying to seek attention, banging the sides, clawing its way through trying to break free of its confines''
Yes, the little beast keeps reminding me it wants out. I'd stab it now but I have this odd fondness for it.
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Thanks. My ghost writer has the day off so I had to do this one on my own.
Stab the box only to put some air holes in it.
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In the not too distant future
love can be seen arising
from her box, seeking
a classic expression
to communicate,
as she utters
"Ego amo te."
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The little thing better mean it this time...or back in the box!
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Shhhhhhhh, listening in from the future
she just might hear you
and find a different box...
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I assumed your typing was as a atrocious as always, so I expected to see some latrines in this poem. Horribly disappointed my droogy. I never took latin, and my online translator rendered this as "What what latine word he is , nourish sonatur" which is kinda disapointing, though I think I get it.
I've been away from this game too long. I enjoyed reading it, and considered it a good reflection on a perticly sticky widget, so I'll spare you my 5000 word review. Since you suggest comments on opening/closing lines, I'll let you know I thought the closing fairly good, but the opening a bit discongruous. I relate strong boxes to Al Gore still, and think it's a bit bold as a opening metaphor, particularly since the metaphor for the rest of the stanza indicates a mirror or portrait. Maybe a verbal shift "as love has now been locked away?"
You know your mind better than I do. Good reading you again, though not as funny as I recalled.
Brian
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Hi Brian:
Quidquid latine dictum sit, altum sonatur. Which apparently, and hopefully means: (Whatever is said in Latin sounds profound)
So I did include some humor here, lol
It's just one of those poems where you try something different. One of those self-indulgent free writes I'm really old enough to know better not to write.
Yeah,the typing isn't just as atrocious, it's actually getting worse, now I seem to be skipping words completely...I think it might actually be the mind that is slipping, lol
Welcome back.
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