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I hate this life, as I have
started to succumb
towards a callous behavior'
with little aplomb.
I am not kind. I am just
a big jerk,
for I'm so tired my responsibility
I may shirk.
What good reason, is there for me
being casual with thee.
You don't deserve this life
we have shared.
I need to treat you softer
and be prepared.

Someone said, "The eyes are the window
into the Soul.
This thought comes from a place,
like any other.
A mystery this one, plain
but not forgiven.
Why now? You ask of me
for these words are soon forgotten,
while I await the coming dawn.
If only it were certain.
These words make no sense,
for they will be gone tomorrow,
as all the yesterday's gather
into the memories of happiness
and sorrow. Go from here.
Leave me be. Don't play games,
with those I love, for I know you
better than all who will follow.

Where are you now, my lovely bride?
It's 6 P.M. you were by my side.
Wandering the room, asking me why
or what's this object, catching your eye.
Asking the same questions, over again.
How many times? Lost track at ten.
Telling you the answer, one more time.
Nothing I say, "sticks". It isn't fine.
No matter what I am trying to do,
this conversation is usually just you.
Asking me more questions, once again,
what is the name of our friend?

Time to get up
and ready to go,
out the door,
off to the show.
What is it you said?
There isn't a game,
for they have been stopped.
The virus is to blame,
so take a long hike.
There's somewhere to go.
Starting your walk
for a crazy new blow
of subjecting your life,
during the remaining days,
when our minds are clouded
by the vacuum, the Government will say
'Not as much vaccine, is your plight".
Has politics entered this fray?
When will this administration
just leave and go away?

Having a hard time, as I've said.
Hearing the lyrics and music in my head.
This has been going on for several days.
"Starry, starry nights," a song of life.
The tumultuous life of Vincent Van Gogh,
written and performed by Don McLean.
So many painting failures, in his early life.
A life of challenges and of strife;
Time spent in a mental institution,
when his life had too much confusion.
Starry, starry nights, he painted when he
wrestled with trying to control his sanity.
Perhaps it is now, my future destiny.

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Loy • 01/06/2021 at 09:01PM • Like 1 Profile

Van Gogh, Don McLean and you are all artists... nice poem

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MFish • 01/06/2021 at 11:11PM • Like Profile

Thank you. Wish I had the music talent and the talent of Van Gogh, the painter. Love his work

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Loy • 01/06/2021 at 11:51PM • Like 1 Profile

I do too, but also love your work ❤️

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MFish • 01/07/2021 at 05:57AM • Like Profile

Thank you.