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A collaboration over too much coffee.
coffee and pen

19 March, 2005

Why i didn't write you a Valentine

i - who can churn out doggerel
at the least excuse -
sit here bargaining with hell
for words that will amuse

you, hold you, keep you,
not make you run.
Light words, singing true,
hiding, underneath the fun,

what i really want to say
but don't, even though
it's THAT day today,
when it's okay to go

a little goofy, a bit
romantic, and lose
the acquired habit
of reserve, the ruse

i've learned of the stiff
upper lip, no matter what.
And i wonder what if
i let go, and, caught

in the moment, told
you in so many words,
that it's a cold
world, with no birds

singing, no laughter
when you're not around;
that this word crafter
hates the sounds

of a world without
you in it, and that it,
beyond a doubt,
isn't a Bad Habit

to want you near,
to hear your voice
in the night, dear
one, that it's nice

(to understate it a bit)
to look into your eyes
late into the night, and it's
even nicer to rise

in the morning to the bliss
of those eyes before me.
And if i were to say all this
would you then abhor me,

run away from those words?
It's that fear that makes me say
Today, i have no words,
i have nothing to say.

February 2005.

A poem i read at the New Bombay Read Met, and could have sworn i posted here, but apparently i haven't.



Blogger John said...

Peter, didn't get the full import of the poem when you read it. But now I can. Thanks for posting it.

But why no capitals and full stops? Is it a deliberate attempt to subvert form or else... what?

19 March, 2005 11:36  
Blogger livinghigh said...

's lover-ly, peter. ;-) very honest.

19 March, 2005 13:33  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Zigzackly, it's oh-so-beautiful! What did She say to this?

19 March, 2005 13:58  
Blogger zigzackly said...

New spectacles, perhaps, John?

19 March, 2005 15:31  

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