A Poem, By R. Toy (Two, Actually)

Well, the poem triptych I posted on Friday had to be one of my more popular posts. Go figure. You can't sell a book of verse in a book store, but evidently bloggers are big poetry fans. Good to know, as I have tons of it lying around. I fancied myself a tragic figure, in my youth, and wrote volumes of self-pitying piffle with which to immerse myself in my own deepness.

Ahh, Youth!

Sometimes I miss that self-absorption, but most of the time when I do, I look at my eldest child and think, "et tu honey?", because he is already so very deep; so very tragic; so very on his way to writing dark verse to showcase his goth-like tendencies,...and he's 10, for crying out loud. In my father's words, "it's f***ing immortality- its beautiful!" (and yes, he was pretty liquored up at the time he said this, so we use it as blackmail whenever possible. what can I say, it's my f***ing immortality baby!)

So, in an effort to show that I can write verse that isn't dark and foreboding, I submit to you, gentle reader, a few verses of a lighter caliber.
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Exhibit A:

Swing Song

I touch clouds
with my feet
then back to earth I plummet,
flying up
again
in a moment,
singing
magical charms
to lure the sky
closer-
trying to tapdance on the sun's face
I keep ending
up
combing grass
with my toes.
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Exhibit B:

(Can't give you the title - it's someone's name)

endless legs
tangled,
tossed over the chair's arm
impossibly at ease, positioned
catlike - all indolent grace.
wearing faded flannel
and those same damn jeans
(it seems)
you've always worn,
hair on end, you smile
lopsidedly,
in conspiracy.

partner in crime,
you are
my brother.
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All right, Bea - it's your turn to post a few verses! Come on...!! You know you want to!