There was a man

[PrinceMyshkin]

There was a man who spent all but one day
of his entire adult life in love...
He’d been in love with Jennifer and Jack
and Ian and Dolores and the sun and the moon
and the single brilliant orange day-lily
that his neighbour had planted in his garden
without asking him.

But that one day, as I mentioned,
he woke up with a crick in his neck
and a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach,
burnt the toast, over-cooked his one egg
until it was like leather
and felt himself, all day long,
to be on the edge of tears





Jerry Newman © 22Sep07

[CdnReader]

What an inordinately sad occasion for the usually love-surrounded man. I think I know exactly how he feels. I hope he won't let the eggs and toast ruin his day tomorrow. (...and mine too...) Great poem, Jer. That last line is just SO sad. :bawling:

[Granny5]

There was a man who spent all but one day
of his entire adult life in love...
He’d been in love with Jennifer and Jack
and Ian and Dolores and the sun and the moon
and the single brilliant orange day-lily
that his neighbour had planted in his garden
without asking him.

But that one day, as I mentioned,
he woke up with a crick in his neck
and a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach,
burnt the toast, over-cooked his one egg
until it was like leather
and felt himself, all day long,
to be on the edge of tears





Jerry Newman © 22Sep07



Now I'll really be worried, Jer. I like your poem, but it's sad. Don't be sad, Kiddo.

[symphony]

uh-oh one of those days *nodding gravely*...

[TheFifthElement]

It's all in that last sad line. Lovely poem Prince Myshkin.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Now I'll really be worried, Jer. I like your poem, but it's sad. Don't be sad, Kiddo.

Actually, Granny, the poem was written quite a while ago, i.e., BS (Before Sophie) but in general each of us contains at any given moment, several persona. And one can write - as I did here - out of pure speculation: what would it be like if, for one day in one's life, one did NOT feel love, for anything or any one.

[PrinceMyshkin]

What an inordinately sad occasion for the usually love-surrounded man. I think I know exactly how he feels. I hope he won't let the eggs and toast ruin his day tomorrow. (...and mine too...) Great poem, Jer. That last line is just SO sad. :bawling:

Now you've done it! driven me to be sententious, but...without sadness can one know joy? Without great sadness can one know great joy?

And, alas, vice-versa.

[CdnReader]

Nah. You were just looking for a reason to use the word "sententious." :p

[PrinceMyshkin]

Nah. You were just looking for a reason to use the word "sententious." :p

Not at all! If I really wanted to show off I'd have found a novel way to use "the"!

[PrinceMyshkin]

In fact the toast (actually
one third of a poppyseed bagel)
was buttery, flavorful
and lavishly spread with St Dalfour
orange and ginger marmalade,
the egg an Impromptu by Schubert,
the bacon so crisp
it crumbled when I looked at it
and the coffee, ah!
the coffee was as dark
as the heart of a left bank mignonette!

And I was in love!

[ampoule]

and lavishly spread with St Dalfour
orange and ginger marmalade,
And I was in love!

Well...good, but would you consider sending me a jar of that orange and ginger marmalade? ;)

[firefangled]

There was a man who spent all but one day
of his entire adult life in love...
He’d been in love with Jennifer and Jack
and Ian and Dolores and the sun and the moon
and the single brilliant orange day-lily
that his neighbour had planted in his garden
without asking him.

But that one day, as I mentioned,
he woke up with a crick in his neck
and a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach,
burnt the toast, over-cooked his one egg
until it was like leather
and felt himself, all day long,
to be on the edge of tears





Jerry Newman © 22Sep07





In fact the toast (actually
one third of a poppyseed bagel)
was buttery, flavorful
and lavishly spread with St Dalfour
orange and ginger marmalade,
the egg an Impromptu by Schubert,
the bacon so crisp
it crumbled when I looked at it
and the coffee, ah!
the coffee was as dark
as the heart of a left bank mignonette!

And I was in love!


The first was so true and the second was delicious. But cook your bacon on a lower heat for a longer period of time and you can look at it longer before it breaks.

[CdnReader]

There was a man who spent all but one day
of his entire adult life in love...
He’d been in love with Jennifer and Jack
and Ian and Dolores and the sun and the moon
and the single brilliant orange day-lily
that his neighbour had planted in his garden
without asking him.

But that one day, as I mentioned,
he woke up with a crick in his neck
and a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach,
burnt the toast, over-cooked his one egg
until it was like leather
and felt himself, all day long,
to be on the edge of tears





Jerry Newman © 22Sep07



Once there was a woman
who had spent her entire adult life in love
until she awoke one morning to
realize she had never really been in love at all.

For today she is immersed in love
Today she is smothered in love
Today love stretches into every extent of her body
oozes out of every ounce of her being
spills out of her in bewildered tumbles of mixed joy and agony.

Today's love bears no resemblance to what
she used to think was love.

That, it seems,
was just a warm-up.


cdn/23sep07

[ampoule]

Wow, Cdn! You lucky girl.

You.....and prince.....I love your poems.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Once there was a woman
who had spent her entire adult life in love
until she awoke one morning to
realize she had never really been in love at all.

For today she is immersed in love
Today she is smothered in love
Today love stretches into every extent of her body
oozes out of every ounce of her being
spills out of her in bewildered tumbles of mixed joy and agony.

Today's love bears no resemblance to what
she used to think was love.

That, it seems,
was just a warm-up.


cdn/23sep07



Ah, but every love
is nothing like the last!
Every love is all the others
put together, doubled,
and painted at last
in oils! We never love
except unto death
and beyond. We pray
for an afterlife in which
to meet and love him or her
again, this time for an aeon!

[Poppy]

In fact the toast (actually
one third of a poppyseed bagel)
was buttery, flavorful
and lavishly spread with St Dalfour
orange and ginger marmalade,
the egg an Impromptu by Schubert,
the bacon so crisp
it crumbled when I looked at it
and the coffee, ah!
the coffee was as dark
as the heart of a left bank mignonette!

And I was in love!

Dang it Jerry, I now see the problem...no grits!!!! :p

[firefangled]

Once there was a woman
who had spent her entire adult life in love
until she awoke one morning to
realize she had never really been in love at all.

For today she is immersed in love
Today she is smothered in love
Today love stretches into every extent of her body
oozes out of every ounce of her being
spills out of her in bewildered tumbles of mixed joy and agony.

Today's love bears no resemblance to what
she used to think was love.

That, it seems,
was just a warm-up.


cdn/23sep07

I started to write this the other day about Prince's poem There Was a Man. But I thought not to spill my philosophy out into the world again, but now with Cdn's poem, I have to say it.

There is a love that exceeds ( can be part of, but exceeds) the attraction of one human being to another. It is the LOVE we fall into, when we fall in love. This is what burst us at the seems, what is the warm-up, what puts us, certain days, on the verge of tears.

I loved both of these and I might be wrong, but that is how I read them.

[CdnReader]

The nature of love is deep and mysterious and completely unknowable. That's what makes it so incredibly difficult to write about -- but we sure do keep trying, don't we? ;) Thanks, fire.

[motherhubbard]

Once there was a woman
who had spent her entire adult life in love
until she awoke one morning to
realize she had never really been in love at all.

For today she is immersed in love
Today she is smothered in love
Today love stretches into every extent of her body
oozes out of every ounce of her being
spills out of her in bewildered tumbles of mixed joy and agony.

Today's love bears no resemblance to what
she used to think was love.

That, it seems,
was just a warm-up.


cdn/23sep07

OH! FANTASTIC!