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Thread: 12th Poem Of The Zookopolis: "The Umbrella"

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    Senior Member Zook_e_Pi's Avatar
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    12th Poem Of The Zookopolis: "The Umbrella"

    The Umbrella

    Nice lookin' lady shouted, ”You've gone too far
    … no stout stepping rocks left in this backyard!”
    Uncompleted, the bridge of stones
    from where she was standing all alone

    … with a pink plastic shopping bag
    pressed tight upon a ribboned shag
    of moonless midnight silk, swirling strands
    in the wet angled wind
    whipping cheeks and brows and slender lips,
    some curling around an upturned nose
    meant to be chaperoned
    by a country garden parasol
    on a better day with less assault …

    to there across the large puddle gap
    that had collected in the storm;
    the ensuing downpour making sure,
    making soup of whole sections of the geometric court
    of manicured shrubs and grasses,
    duly inviting toads and water bugs
    for a Viking raid on the land of black crickets
    and green hoppers
    … to where I sat in protracted glance
    in a chair beneath a raised umbrella,
    with apples dripping overhead,
    intermittently,
    dropping taps upon my black khaki canopy,
    sewing beads of dampened sound
    into my wistful trance.

    Unable to move or find the mind
    of Sir Walter Raleigh and the gentle kind,
    such is the weight of words carried
    sharpened like a pointed lance, then buried
    in the chastened chest
    of a man chilled time ago
    by unchained affection solemnly returned
    to sender, unopened, love's honest labor unrequited
    and perhaps even laughed at;
    once a shining lamborghini
    breaking speeds on the highway,
    but now just rusted squeaking wheels
    rolling a barge upon the byway.
    Alas, a mortal pump beaten down
    by bad bounces,
    is incapable of much more start
    than the false romancing of a finite heart;
    gone be the days of pure infinite love.

    Perhaps it was wrong knowing this,
    nice lookin' lady with the T-shirt tits
    for me to pull you in so deep
    from the surface and the lonely weeps;
    still, the chance of touching bliss
    - even in the lightest tickle -
    had me throwing measure to the breeze
    after holding it in a squeeze for years;
    forgive me, dove, for walking off into the rain
    with your umbrella and my heavy fears.
    When you said you couldn't live without me
    and my optimistic philosophies,
    all I heard was my own internal trembling
    … for I had said some similar words
    to a fine-looking growing girl
    thrown against the limit-world of a boy trapped
    in time's timid passages …
    and now I'm entombed in photographs
    and memories and midday naps.
    I can take it, and I took it, and I will take it for that is me,
    but I would not wish that fate on my worst enemy,
    and much less, thee.



    UncleZook
    Copygrownboyrighted@Jul.28.2016

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    Senior Member Adam Bomm's Avatar
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    Re: 12th Poem Of The Zookopolis: "The Umbrella"

    More good stuff, zook...

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