Walking down the street,
laughter bubbles and froths
down the window of a faux victorian affair
until, finally settling in the gutter
flows down a rusted spilloff
.
I attempt to catch some
to carry in the golden cup of my hand,
which, already containing the wind,
dandelion wisps, a mixture of sunlight
and halogen leftovers from last night,
should make a fine feast for friends
.
Too much sex and coffee has me cranked up
like a Jester's box, taut and ready to spring
on a victim very much expecting
my poetry, which, like a cracker jack treat
is less surprise than anticipation
.
The words stick together on my tongue,
bound by the carmelized sugar of hope
daintily baked in the sun
until the inevitable metamorphosis
into the container which I carry words,
as another aquarius offering to quench thirst
Reviewed by Zenith Elliott 9/24/2003
Wonderful poem! ~Z~
Reviewed by Deborah Russell 9/24/2003
..." the golden cup of my hand" and ..."less surprise than anticipation"...
I met Jerome on a busy city street in Baltimore, Maryland, when he was forty-five years old. On that particular day, I was out and about, enjoying a much-needed day off from work.
I wanted to purchase a sukiyaki sub. I parked my car in an area of
A collection of love poetry both relatable and unique.. Poems both joyful, playfu , yearning and romantic. The Poet has exposed his heart and soul in words of love and admiration. Take a journey through the thoughts of a Contempary poet of love. Poet
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Adam