So I may have missed my mark by a few hundred years. I believe I belonged in the time of romantic poets. Shelley, Byron. Keats, Dickinson… Today’s successful poets write about social issues in a way I wish I could write. I’ve tried. It mostly (a few exceptions) ends up sounding trite.
But writing love poetry, romance, looking at the moon—that’s my jam, man. lol. (what decade am I actually living in?)
I wrote this little poem yesterday. It was much less good until I wrote it today. Now it’s much gooder. To give you an idea, this is the original ending:
I seek you when I fall asleep at night
but this poem will need a good rewrite.
I was definitely right about that. So here’s another one for my collection of love poetry that is yet to come:
By Michelle Garren-Flye
I miss you when I look at the moon
and know you won’t be back soon.
I’ve made loneliness into an art
to which I have devoted my heart.
On the radio, I may hear a tune—
against your charm, I am not immune.
Oh, can’t you rescue me from this plight,
steal me away from all anger and fright?
This love is most inopportune,
painfully made and roughly hewn.
It pokes holes in my soul, leaves me
with a wish I wish most wantonly.
I feel the ache and longing in this! Great job! 👏🏾
Thanks Brandon. 🙂