A friendship with promise,
and stars in her eyes,
but he met her sister
and couldn’t disguise
the mutual attraction
and shared understanding,
the love and committment,
from hearts uniting,
– no sentiment brief;
he meant her no grief,
but didn’t give thought
to the hopes that his friendship had brought.
Hurt and confused
she turned to another
and dazzled him,
poured out affection,
and smothered him
overwhelmed him and drew him
to marriage in haste;
her vows rather empty,
– what waste.
For when ordinary life-pace returned,
excitment subsiding,
the anger resurfaced;
she didn’t have need of the wage that he earned
nor care for his stressful vocation,
dwelt on her frustration,
she hadn’t been taught to bear disappointment,
redirect this addictive attention,
to weaken th’attraction of past fascination, illusion.
She carped and complained,
and made him feel small, and ashamed,
a failure, unwanted, unlovely;
not attempting to know him, appreciate,
and build up a friendship, gentleness reciprocate,
on which the romance might re-grow,
in self-pity she let herself wallow,
prayers hollow.
Fooled by a fraudster, pretended affection,
tears, embarrassment, humiliation:
the shock cleared vision
of the husband she had
(yes, flawed, but still willing
to try for a genuine true beginning);
awareness awoken of others’ needs too
– so long she’d been blind to how to be kind –,
sensed the unpleasant savour, her selfish behaviour;
realisation that stubborn rejection
had nearly brought all of them poisonous cost –
genuine, lasting love shattered and lost:
they began an adventure together to reclaim the land
with honesty, humour, respect hand in hand.
Comments
Richard L. Prov... | December 8, 2011 - 05:12
Hello R---HOPE you don’t mind---I liked your poem---it’s like a rippling tremor, and sallies through feelings with undeniable intentions. These are only ‘suggested’ changes or at the very least a thought on how to tighten up the prose a little. Keep an eye on spelling, unnecessary “this” and “that.” Keep drama and pace in the moment, avoiding any repetition of thoughts. Above all else, remember, you are the captain of your ship; the one with a final destination in mind. Always do your absolute best before you begin the next poem. Richard LP
A friendship with promise
and stars in her eyes,
until he met sister and
couldn’t disguise a
mutual attraction,
shared understanding,
with love and commitment
from hearts uniting,
– no sentiment too brief;
he meant her no grief,
but didn’t give thought
to hopes friendship brought.
Hurt and confused
she turned to another
and dazzled him,
with poured out affection,
and smothered him
in marriage with haste;
vows rather empty,
– what a waste.
When life’s pace returned
excitement subsiding,
anger resurfaced;
didn’t have need for wages he earned
nor cared for stressful vocation,
dwelt on her frustration.
She hadn’t been taught to bear disappointment,
nor redirect addictive attention,
to weaken attraction of past fascination, an illusion.
She carped and complained,
making him feel small, ashamed,
a failure, unwanted, unlovely;
not attempting to know, appreciate him,
build up friendship, reciprocate gentleness,
on which their romance may re-grow,
in self-pity she allowed herself to wallow,
prayers much too hollow.
Fooled by a fraudster, pretended affection,
tears, embarrassment, humiliation:
and shock clearing vision
of a husband she had
(yes, flawed, but still willing
to try for a genuine true beginning);
awareness wakened others’ needs too
– so long she’d been blind on how to be kind –,
sensed an unpleasant flavour, selfish behaviour;
realization of stubborn rejection
nearly brought all to poisonous cost –
genuine, lasting love shattered and lost:
they began an adventure to reclaim their land
honesty, humour, respect hand in hand.
* * *
Rhiannonw | December 8, 2011 - 22:14
Thank you for your suggestions, Richard. This was a new type of venture for me, - I wanted to try to get the theme down in verse if possible. I knew I might have to revisit it after a while. It is probably a bit soon to do so at the moment, but I will look through all your ideas sometime, thank you. I have been used to doing largely quite tight rhythmic verse and songs. Your "until he met sister" line 3 I didn't feel quite right without a personal pronoun … ah, well, as I say, you have set me thinking!
Rhiannon
http://rhiannonshymns.co.uk/
Richard L. Prov... | December 9, 2011 - 13:34
Those suggested thoughts perhaps accomplished what I wanted to do. To allow you another way of looking at your intended words and feelings. However, you are always the final judge. One exercise I still use is to take a poem I struggle with and rewrite it from several angles---through my eyes, then through the eyes of the receiver. Have a lovely Christmas, from Richard & Esther Provencher