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A collaboration over too much coffee.
coffee and pen

31 December, 2005

The Lover.

He stood shivering
wet skin and dry eyes;
He jingled
jangled tunes
breaking through
torn pocket
wounds.

He lived rough
and pretended to be
oh so tough;
meagre possessions
in a broken cart
a blanket, cigarettes
and a burnt out heart.

Where will he
sleep tonight?
Underneath the
plastic sheet
behind the
garbage bin
fiddlin’ with
her frayed picture
he'd gambled

And
didn’t win.

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3 Comments:

Blogger the Monk said...

nice poem...

31 December, 2005 13:36  
Blogger scribe said...

Like one of those Cohen / Dylan lyrics. I think the "jingle, jangle" started me crooning right into the burnt out heart. Want to go the longer lyric way?

17 January, 2006 11:24  
Blogger SUNITI JOSHI said...

Very nice:) As Scribe said, the words 'Jingle - Jangle' catch our fancy :)
A true honky tonk era Hobo :) The whole world loves a drifter who cries over his long lost love I guess.

22 January, 2006 17:47  

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