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| Image by crilleb50 |
He sits pondering,
well wondering really,
wondering whether
she’ll be late or early,
late probably, she always is.
This time thing gets to him;
he hates the way
she keeps him waiting.
He ruminates:
is time but a mere linear continuum?
Not so (he thinks) for she
always late
has it flexible, stretched out, elastic.
The minute hand never sweeps
as he sits anticipating her arrival.
Anticipating?
Nah!
Not that plastic smile
or those heaving boobs
she thinks he finds fantastic.
If the truth be known, she to him –
a mere residuum
of a whim at computer dating –
has had her time!
The ennui of his continuous waiting
has been (to him)
somewhat ego deflating
and his heart has sought another!
Oh yes, in his mind his secret lover,
his flesh so ripe just for her taking;
the heaving boobs are worth forsaking
for the clever beauty in accounting.
Perchance to dream!
For him the problems mounting
for how does one so weak in nature
(a failure would be his nomenclature
in this thing, this thing called love,
well no, character strength,
of which he is sadly lacking)
say Sorry kiddo, it’s all over?
He hesitates, should he end it today?
His resolve dissolving by the minute
and much to his sorrow
and much to his sorrow
he procrastinates,
he will wait, kiss her, pretend to love (?) her
and ending it?
Well he will make another date
and ending it will perhaps be
and ending it will perhaps be
tomorrow…
Anna :o}
Inspired by the image provided by Tess at The Mag and
(some of) the words provided at The Sunday Whirl. Thanks Tess and Brenda.
Some of the words: (Per)chance, hand, sweeps=swept, flesh, ripe, secret and clever.
15 comments:
Time is an abstract concept, and yet also a tyrannical absolute. It gets us all in the end.
His frustration is justified.
ha. yes, always waiting would get annoying, but then again you have to know what you are getting into...and sounds like communication is lacking
Oh wow this is quite amazing. Love the way it made me feel reading it. I felt I was him.
So creative, Anna. I especially like:
He ruminates: is time but a mere linear continuum? Not so (he thinks) for she always late has it flexible, stretched out, elastic.
Oh love this Anna! It is very amusing. Time does appear to move in strange ways, very strange indeed. It seems to drag and drag when you are waiting. I get very annoyed when people are chronically late
I wonder who is getting the worse end of the relationship, the man who is considering ending it, or the lady who doesn't even show up.
You have the ability to breath life into such varied personalities. This type of man I've always tried to avoid.
He looks like the type that is a stickler for time.... all those clocks:)
I like how you brought his character to life my letting us hear his thoughts..nicely done..
The eagerness to get off from her "late" excuses is being compared to the benefits of having to cope with her. Hmmm... #crossroads. Very troubling to my mind. :)
Excellent poem about time and our indecision, I identify in many ways, good job!
Annaa, your poem is very intriguing. Your really get into the character's [man] mind. The way women are cut down the middle: blonde & chesty= flacky & unreliable or brunette w/ smaller
frame & smart.
I enjoyed reading and thinking, perhaps [learning] this poem.
"heaving boobs" ... they make her sound more maternal, even feeding a new little soul somewhere, than a date to me. Then again, I suppose some women can and do manage both endeavours simultaneously with admirable ability .. but it's also maybe why she is always late, ever thought about that? In which case, shouldn't he respect her priorities and have some patience instead of this ultimatum? After all, she must be short on time too ..
His ennui will be his undoing (already is). Very clever piece. Thank you.
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