Sincerely Yours,

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I’m not going to write a love poem
Or preach about Gods and Generals,
Existential angst
No exposure of deep wells
Drilling at bits of my soul
Smiting valves to the heart
In the pretense of being tortured
Directing with orange flares and whistling tongues
Though I find those who can fascinating
Their bodies cracking like spines of books
Snapped vertebras clicking bone one piece at a time
Joints relieved as their pages take flight
Leaving an aftertaste of air and sugar

I keep love to myself
Dole it in abundance to the residents under my roof
Those beyond the layers of language, thread and glue
Beyond the tides of moody swings with aching chains
They know themselves
I am superstitious enough to be quiet
For fear of losing a healthy streak
Fear no library would house enough words

I wrap myself in ink blankets
Raise my head to find time swallowed
The walls winded like sailed sheets
We have that in common, don’t we?
Beach readers bewildered at being adrift
But with the swell of birds, the feathered words
Sometimes
Do not reach me
Not today

Maybe tomorrow, though I doubt it so
Even when I feel I’ve said too much
It is hardly ever
Enough

Of this, I am sincere.

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17 thoughts on “Sincerely Yours,

    1. desertdweller29

      Thanks, Marissa! Not to dis on love poems by any means. I read some beautiful poems that manage to capture its essence. I, personally, find it difficult. I had that Sara Bareilles song (Not going to write you a love song) stuck in my head! This seems to be happening to me more and more… 😉

  1. L. T. Garvin, Author

    Ah yes, what’s love got to keep showing up especially during beach season? I rarely write about it either, I have always found too much hurt lurking beneath the surface at many angles. Wonderful poem 🙂

    1. desertdweller29

      I am just not used to this new and stylish professorish look you’re sporting! It’s wonderful. My picture is five years old. It might be time to change it. But I run from cameras. I’d rather take pictures of snakes. They require so little grooming.

      1. Don Royster

        Even in your comments you occasionally are poetic.
        “I run from cameras.
        I’d rather take pictures of snakes.
        They require so little grooming.”
        Maybe this is the start of a new poem.

  2. Debbie

    Me, too, DD. I’ve read plenty of these online, but it’s just not my forte. I like how you’ve expressed it — being “wrapped in ink blankets.” Perhaps as long as we’re being “sincere,” we’re doing what we should anyway?!

  3. Don Royster

    You had me going from the beginning. I love that first line and then the next comes and I am full of expectation. This is someone I’m sure I would like. I hate that cliche poems that people post as poetry all over. The sentimentality of them. And here there is no sentimentality. Just honesty. Then there is the second stanza: “I keep love to myself.” And the rest of that stanza. That’s me. I don’t dole it out to just anybody. Like you say,
    “Dole it in abundance to the residents under my roof
    Those beyond the layers of language, thread and glue
    Beyond the tides of moody swings with aching chains”
    This reminds me of how I hate the way we get religion doled out to us by our politicians and public figures, like they are salesmen for Jesus. My spirituality did not come easy. I had to earn it. So I don’t sell it cheap.

    Lots to think about here and lots to praise.

  4. thefeatheredsleep

    This could as easily be called an Ode to Words because you speak of our mutual love for reading and escaping the real world for the literary and fictional. I think this is a perfect homage to that bookwormish feeling so many of us can relate to – but sadly is dying in our culture so we must keep on reading!

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