Sunday, August 9, 2015

Joanna Boring writes



Life of misery



In your eyes
I see the light has gone
too many lies you told
now we are none

Painful to the core
your tales of deceit
this heart never saw it coming
so it couldn't retreat

The pains turned to anger
the love is now hate
you filled my life with misery
as she offered you her plate

I am so glad we went
our separate ways
I would never have coped
with you on any more ruthless days.

2 comments:

  1. Joanna laments a love gone wrong. This is certainly a very common theme in poetry. In 1898, after his career was destroyed by his imprisonment for homosexual activity, Oscar Wilde (writing under his prison ID number C.3-3) published "The Ballad of Reading Gaol." I will not reprint the entire long poem here, but here are some relevant verses:

    Yet each man kills the thing he loves
    By each let this be heard,
    Some do it with a bitter look,
    Some with a flattering word,
    The coward does it with a kiss,
    The brave man with a sword!

    Some kill their love when they are young,
    And some when they are old;
    Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
    Some with the hands of Gold:
    The kindest use a knife, because
    The dead so soon grow cold.

    Some love too little, some too long,
    Some sell, and others buy;
    Some do the deed with many tears,
    And some without a sigh:
    For each man kills the thing he loves,
    Yet each man does not die.

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