#440
Nothing pleases me more
than good friends
saying good things
about great memories
with me.
#441
The blasphemy,
cellphones in libraries,
the unintelligible
gobbling away,
mind numbing ignorance
polluting that glorious
atmosphere of stretched intellect,
hope, dreams, the passion of the pen,
the pained appreciation of life,
the efforts of those distilling
beauty to ink, mocked by a buffoon,
as it shatters that gorgeous spell.
#442
If words could bandage
our broken hearts,
i’d write and write,
wrap and wrap,
until we sat safe and bound,
our healing cast, our covers high,
with nothing left but rest,
in a loving glow,
heavy heads allowed to sink to sleep
as gentle stories drone.
#443
"Hold on to this,”
i think, as i scribble,
"it could be worth something
someday,” i don’t dare to speak,
how funny, how trivial,
a battered book of poems,
as if it might hold some later value?
from a worthless man?
#444
What are my intentions sir?
Concerning your daughter?
Well i intend to continue
to sit beside her for as
long as she’ll have me.
Oh be it that one day i may
have the honour of sitting at
your table, amongst the family
that plucked her from the heavens,
until then, worry not, i’m well aware
i’m not worth as much as most,
and i am honoured by each singular hour,
let me not to be thought of as a threat, or bother,
and while i can’t perhaps offer financial stability,
know that for what it’s worth, she has my heart,
fully, unconditionally, and with that thought,
think not of me as a lapdog, or worshipper, but a
constant protector, ready and willing
to jump before any bullet, any bite,
take any blow, or exile myself at a
single solitary fateful fault should i falter.
i’m not speaking now to win your favour,
or to convince you of an arbitrary worth,
i’m seeking beyond that approval, to
attempt to achieve love from a protective father,
not a powerful, unshakable love,
or a blinding, consuming one either,
instead, one so simple, almost forgotten grace,
like one loves the sun and water, cakes and cookies,
so obvious, it’s unworthy of mentioning, of thought
"oh yes, i love him, of course, my daughter’s
protector, yes him, that dear bumbling, scrappy fool.”
And know, that as true as my heartbeats,
that drum marches me forth as i fight for her smiles,
for that laugh, for every forever moment that
she blesses me, and the hope of hours, and years forth,
take my assurance, my profound understanding,
of her as an untold treasure, of value beyond myself,
or that of any other earthly item, or honour,
that may conceivably try to distract me,
in short, sir, know i am forever hers, so long as
she’ll have me, and that i know how lucky i am to be so.
Thanks for joining! Find poems through out the week on my instagram @monsieurwrite
Don’t forget to check out the poems being recited on The Write Stuff podcast!
Take care, call your family, tell them you love them.
wazoo!
-Mr. Write