My song is love

I promised poems on this blog and failed to deliver, so to make up for it here is one. I cheated a little, but you can do this too!

How to play this game: Put your music player on shuffle, and write down the first line of the first twenty-one songs. Post the poem that results. The first line of the twenty-second is the title. I added punctuation to the ends of the lines.

My song is love

The empire will fall like they planned on,
Here we are searching for a sign.
Slow down.
He had a plan to kill you all along.
If you knew what I know would you try?

In my arms you lie,
On a Sunday,
Your etiquette;
The moment you opened your heart I knew.
Waiting for your call,
All of us now bent as we fall.

Stevie left on a Friday too.
Lowering the standards-
Not surprised ‘cos I always knew
You and me used to be together.
He’ll come in and sit by me.
This’ll take some explaining:

It’s all a lie!
Every time I wake up on my own
This is the last time that I will say these words:
How can you ask for forgiveness?

For a silly friend

And when she cried
She wouldn’t stop!
I couldn’t make her stop.
And so I watched every tear drop;
I couldn’t make her stop.
She wouldn’t stop!
She wouldn’t stop!
I couldn’t make her stop.
And with every small glist’ning drop

I felt I couldn’t make her stop.
I felt I shouldn’t make her stop.
I even willed her tears to drop

Because it was beautiful.

Sam

Dear Sam,

this is a special post for a special girl who is celebrating her birthday today!

I realise you don't like mice much. In fact, I'm fairly certain you hate me. But let's push all that aside while I share to the world some of your lovely attributes on this day when, not that long ago, you were born.

Thank you for being an awesome friend (okay, not to me but to your silly housemate, that tradie husband of yours). I can tell she appreciates it a lot. She enjoys your company, and she especially loves the really awful conversations you have together. Yes, I listen to those conversations. You can't deny that they are awful but at the same time very amusing. She is also in awe of the fact that for a small kid you're very strong. But enough of her perspective! This shouldn't be about flattery. This should be about shocking romantic poetry!

Darling Sam of skin so fair
With golden locks of elfin hair,
And laughter in those smiling eyes
Of colours like clear Cornish skies.

Oh pretty Sam, of figure sleek
And slender, with those words you speak
So tenderly of things you love,
Namely kids and the Lord above.

Sweetest Sam! How every time
I hear your name I make it rhyme
With, what else, dear precious Sam,
Than traffic jam and Yarra tram?

I hope you like it. Happy birthday Sam!

always and never

I am always the mouse in your presence,
Sometimes funny, mostly quiet and fearful.
I saw your smoky horizon and now desire to
Distract you from that past with a new addiction:
Me.
Can you see my dark circles? Drawn to show I think of you?

It isn’t love, just sincere like, and a small frame
Huddling close to something warm in winter.
This isn’t enough to justify reciprocation. I know.
It would never, should never, work anyway.
Yet I let my mind go there
When you’re in the room
Or even when you’re away.
Or when I’m away.
Always away
And never together.