Why do you have me
sitting in this place?
It is cold outside.
It’s snowing out
My toes are freezing
When will we go home?
Now you’re watching.
Looking at me and
thinking who knows what.
You know I gave up
from reading your thoughts
you’re wondering;
when will I get mad,
take the paper sheet
and crumple the stuff.
Yes! That yellow sheet
of paper you got
from the young waitress.
I saw you touched her
while sipping your glass
of Chardonnay wine.
Writing and winking
probably thinking,
“She is just crazy.”
You have just counted
on your ten fingers;
now you’re using
all of your ten toes.
Syllables he says-
“It’s a poet’s thing!”
Hah, licking your lips?
When he is all done
then he will want me
to read it to him
when he is in bed,
ready to snore.
See if it flows right
he will say to me.
I don’t know this stuff.
We should be doing
something else that’s sweet
and pleasurable.
Hotter and better.
Sweeter and nicer.
Now, he wants to write
on a paper sheet
from a young waitress
with a pretty smile.
I am sitting here;
but you know just what?
He just winked at me!
What’s up? Tell me now!
Another coffee?
Refill on your wine?
Muse? Yea glad you did.
Because I almost-
Walked out of this booth!
Joseph S. Spence, Sr., 8/9/09
All Rights Reserved
This is a normative syllabic poem. The poems are normally in a variety of ways. This particular poem is written with three lines in each stanza with five syllables in each line. The syllable is a unit of speech with a single, uninterrupted cluster of sound, which could be as short as a single vowel. It may also be as long as a vowel or diphthong surrounded by consonant combinations, such as sphinx, breathe, and stretch.
Author: Joseph Spence, Sr.
Article Source: EzineArticles.com
Provided by: Digital Camera News
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