A Valentine In Time, a poem by Tragic Rabbit

[Tragic Rabbit]

A Valentine In Time

For all the men

Who ever took my number

And never called-

A Valentine.

For those who cried out

Someone else?s name

Then paid for breakfast

To seem polite-

Eggs over easy, like me

And lightly toasted.

I never counted the days

When the phone didn?t ring

I never looked for you

In the faces

And places

Where we met that night.

That wasn?t me you saw

In the glass beside you

If you forgot, I never noticed-

It wasn?t me.

I was young but never foolish;

I always knew the lie

By the taste of your kisses,

I always knew the weight

Of your caresses

Was lighter than it seemed.

If I looked sad when you

Drove away-

Just a trick of the light

Your mistake, not mine.

A Valentine for you

Saccharine memory of something

Long forgotten

Cheap paper hearts

Wastebasket flowers.

I?m sure I knew your name once

But it faded

Like this Valentine

That I toss back through time

To you.

*

[Codey]

i like this one too....you should write more poetry.

Codey

[Tragic Rabbit]

i like this one too....you should write more poetry.

Codey

That's like telling someone to masturbate more, isn't it? I mean, that's sort of how it feels to write stuff like that. This one, I was watching a movie and the boy in the film asks for the number of a guy who doesn't plan on calling him, he's very young and its only his second sexual encounter and suddenly I acutely remembered that feeling, the feeling that it meant something else, something more than it did. I mean, after a while, you realize that everything isn't equal, that sow's ears don't make good purses, but that feeling...I felt like writing it down. I think the Icarus one is prettier, neater, nicer, the kind of thing other people like, I guess, but the Ten Things one or this one maybe hit closer to my own actual emotional intestines.

Anyhow, yeah, I've been writing some and the response has been underwhelming, to say the least. Maybe I do need to just think of them as masturbatory exercises and not expect any blue ribbons for my performances. Its a little depressing that the only thing anyone ever seems to like is Drama Club...though the Some Enchanted Evening has a few fans of its own, I think. Still, you sort of want something when you're done, like when the dentist gives you a lollipop after making you hurt. I've been spoiled in Life by all the candy given to me by nice men, I don't know how to judge things without it, I guess.

Kisses...

TR

[Graeme]

Anyhow, yeah, I've been writing some and the response has been underwhelming, to say the least.  Maybe I do need to just think of them as masturbatory exercises and not expect any blue ribbons for my performances.  Its a little depressing that the only thing anyone ever seems to like is Drama Club...though the Some Enchanted Evening has a few fans of its own, I think.  Still, you sort of want something when you're done, like when the dentist gives you a lollipop after making you hurt.  I've been spoiled in Life by all the candy given to me by nice men, I don't know how to judge things without it, I guess.

You have written quite a few good things (actually, I think everything of yours I've read is good to very good). Drama Club is just the big one because it's the longest and most complex one. As such, it's the one that people keep stumbling over and responding to. That doesn't mean that other stuff isn't appreciated.

Graeme

[Codey]

Poetry is medicine for the poets soul. If it helps someone else and they enjoy it then so much the better. A little sugar helps the medicine go down so if a little masturbatory exercise shakes your tree then more power to you. What's important to me, in my poetry, is the feeling behind the poem. Nothing else matters. If you are able to convey to the reader the feelings you had that made you write the poem, then the poem was a good one.

Codey