Aidan Clevinger Poems
|1.||On My Knees||6/15/2009|
|3.||See The Light||6/15/2009|
|9.||Playing With Fire||6/15/2009|
|14.||The Martyr's Poem||6/15/2009|
|16.||What I Need||6/15/2009|
|18.||Trying To Be Somebody||6/15/2009|
|19.||Names And Photographs||6/15/2009|
|24.||What We Seek||6/15/2009|
|30.||I'Ll Remember You||6/17/2009|
|32.||These Words Of Mine||6/17/2009|
|39.||By The Waters Of Venice||7/15/2009|
Benchwarmer (Getting Benched Again)
My nose is bloody, my knuckles, too,
And my jersey's covered in mud.
I don't know who I thought I was kidding,
Trying to be some romantic stud.
Curse these stinking pads,
Get this helmet off my head.
My back feels like I'm eighty years old,
My feet feel made of lead.
She popped the ball out from my arms,
I never had a chance.
Sprawled on the ground I watched her run;
Chalk six up for Failed Romance.
I'm sick of playing this stupid game,
At least while she's still playing it.
This had to happen sooner or later,
There's no point in...
Well, you did it, here you are,
That place you wanted to be.
You've got the meaning way down deep,
You're doing well, from what I see.
The camera bulbs, the flashing lights,
The roar of endless noise.
The exclamations of adoration,
'What grace! What charm! What poise! '