A Special Man


A Special Man

 

None of his wives

Could live with him

But they couldn’t live without.

After work he would

Sit in his chair

Like a king on his throne

And his current wife would scurry about

Taking care of his needs.

Each claimed he was a special man,

But they weren’t slaves.

At his funeral his four ex-wives

(And his widow)

Showed up broken-hearted.

All loved and spoke highly of him.

But, if their words were true,

Which one poisoned him?

Which one loved him so much

She couldn’t share?

Who felt pain enough to break free?

One of them broke the spell

Because none of them

Could live with him

But they couldn’t live without.

by Dan Roberson

Timeline


Timeline

My life can be measured, 

In increments on a line.

Like the man in black I walk that line.

Sometimes it’s three steps forward.

Other times it’s five steps back.

I can’t even stop if I get off track.

Ominous clouds continually threaten.

But my inner peace keeps me focused.

Daily I stay in the present marching on,

I say, “This is where the battles are won.”

Usually I count the moments until

Everything that was confusing becomes clear.

Behind me are my footprints,

Showing me where I blindly

stepped on things I held dear,

But I tromp on in erratic fashion,

Marching to verse that I created

but never got a chance to rehearse.

As I continue my journey,

The world becomes my playground.

I cry, “I want a special friend

Who’ll stay with me until the very end.”

But like children in a park,

Finding the swings are much the same,

They get tired and angry

 and move on to other games.

I want to shout, “I don’t want to keep score.

One playground or another

Will have the one I’m searching for.”

I won’t worry about getting hurt or feeling pain

Because there’s the whole world to gain.

Opportunities abound on this timeline.

I can hate and hurt or love and be kind.

I can encourage others and help them along.

I can do what is right and avoid the wrong.

“What’s this?” you say.

“How can I have fun that way?”

I’ve been there so I nod and look wise.

Misguided fun is only trouble in disguise.

When I look back at my tracks

Do they point the way for others to follow?

Or did I find a mud hole in which to wallow?

If I stayed, all would have been lost.

But I struggled free to avoid the biggest cost.

When my timeline comes to an end,

I want people to say, “Here was a good man,

And always he was a friend”.

 

 

 

 

 

Condemned For Loving Too Much


Condemned for Loving Too Much

Poetry Palace Award

Loving (TV series)
Image via Wikipedia

“Condemned for Loving too Much”

All was quiet in this forgotten town,

Because of the record snow tumbling down,

Yet in the plaza crowds were shopping still,

Looking for entertainment to get their fill,

There were walkers, and talkers, shops all ablaze,

Restaurants still open but countless delays,

Marge was waiting patiently and talking to a friend,

This day had been perfect, she didn’t want it to end,

Somehow, she noticed him, standing off from the crowd,

His gray eyes fixed on her, haughty and proud,

His brown coat, his lean frame, the thin twisted nose,

Why she alone could see him, she could only suppose,

His eyes asked questions, the answers she didn’t dare,

What kind of man was he? One that didn’t care?

Was he an angry ghost or a demon of some kind?

Why were his thoughts penetrating her mind?

Somehow in his hands he held her new fate,

She thought, “Is it possible to love someone you hate?”

As this thought surfaced, Marge pushed it away,

She had never seen him before, not until today,

“He is not attractive,” she thought, “not in the least,”

But he continued to stare at her like she was a feast,

Her face flushed, and deep within the heat began,

Rising in waves until perspiration ran,

She was uncomfortable, she needed time to think,

But he watched her diligently, not once did he blink,

“Is it possible to love your enemy?” she thought,

“What is it about me that’s so eagerly sought?”

She was thirty-three years old for goodness sake,

And ten pounds too heavy, give or take,

Yet she was flattered by his attention even more,

Unlike her friends, all her faults he chose to ignore,

He willed her to move forward, but he didn’t insist,

Although she closed her eyes, she was helpless to resist,

Silently Marge turned, her demon she faced,

When he smiled, her legs trembled, her heart raced,

She took one step forward, two, then three,

She unbuttoned her blouse, letting him see,

She hated him and yet she was offering her kind,

Melting into love, her body yielding to his mind,

Seeking his hatred, demands, contempt to slay,

Doing what she could, loving his hate away,

An act of love determined Marge’s fate,

Is it possible to love, someone you hate?

All is quiet again in this forgotten town,

But there is one less demon standing around,

No one wants to question or be out of touch,

Should Marge be condemned for loving too much?