Can't see sunshine through the rain
as breath fogs up the glass.
why has life become so plain?
a dream too real to pass?
Mama took my Kodachrome away,
made me think all the world's a cloudy day.
I'd splash in puddles, throw the ball
But instead I work and write trite things:
"Imagine being small
With wings!"
Where have you gone Joe Dimaggio?
Our nation turns its cataracts to you?
Press me while I wither,
stay a fossil from my time;
can't tell whether
it's sublime.
I could read that last stanza all day. So there.
ReplyDeleteMe too :-)
DeleteWhere have you gone Joe Dimaggio?
ReplyDeleteOur nation turns its cataracts to you?
True that!!
Yeah, it says something about being old and forlorn I thought.
DeletePerfect title. Cracked me up. Probably wasn't supposed to, but it did :)
ReplyDeleteOh, well, it was supposed to be a little funny. After all, I'm a funny guy ;-)
DeleteThis one is really good. And the off-meterness of it all actually improves it a lot. I don't think this poem would be the same with a regular meter.
ReplyDeleteThanks :-) I'm glad it worked for what it is.
DeleteBen I like the fact that you havent changed your music collection, this chick has such a moving voice. Never trite, maybe trivial but not trite;-)
ReplyDeletegotta say that last line trivial was a joke, just needed a t word that would work:-)
She is really good at taking simple things and making them fantastic.
DeleteYou are a genius. Cracked me up. I vote sublime. For sure. xo
ReplyDeleteOh, no, no no. I'm hardly a genius :-)
Delete