Categories
Firescape Fridays Poetry

I Once Loved Words | FF 21

words of affection used to be
           my “love language”

but time did teach this twisted tongue
        to taste tall tales, talk fiction

soon enough my ears heard
                        such soft, sweet speech
           from my lovers’ lips
    words that would     hit the floor
                         hollow, empty
    without resound

I learned
            through repetition
      that language
beautiful and pure, untainted
                 magical metaphors
              lines with lineage
         when delivered by
                   a malicious mind
         or with careless cheek
            indulge darkness,
                              a deceit

and that is why,
  though I wish to buy them …
          sweet nothings now mean
                           no thing to me

Categories
Philosophy Poetry

Close Only Counts

Close doesn’t cut it
for a swing and a miss
a near hit can’t
bring the runner home

Close doesn’t count
t’ward an orange flagged fall
a slipped push kick never
nets the ball, missed point

Just out of bounds, nearly there
it’s not – kind of like a heart attack
without the big ol’ clot

A close call, one number off
never got the message ‘cross

A close shave, still breathing now,
never put me in the grave

They say, close only matters in
horseshoes and hand grenades

guess that’s why it’s easier today
to be okay with how it’s shaken out
now I see, certainly in matters of
the heart, close really
doesn’t count