David DeSantis

Rookie (01/29/85 / Utica, NY)

April Is The Same As Any Other Month.. - Poem by David DeSantis

My love came over last night,
I took her to a driving range.
Neither of us are very good,
But I thought it might break the ice.

Up the hill,
we walk up the hill.

I look at the ground
The ball, my club,
and her.

A swing its short,
Dirt, and ouch.
The ball it goes less than ten.

My love its been forever,
forever its been to me….

She smiles at me,
Forced, so forced,
Yet this one is mine.
Impress her,
be the man she remembers.
She was yours,
once more she can be.

I feel contempt,
contempt is what I feel.

Maybe a sip of Heineken first,
You need to relieve the tension.
Six years off and on,
their remains
an unease in tension.

She swings and I wonder what she thinks,
Is she thinking at all?

I sip,
cold and refreshing.
There you go, drink it away.
Your always more confident
And your love,
She loves confidence.

Green bottle, green grass, sunlight, and her.
Things aren’t so bad on this hill.

I step up,
Club gripped tight.
Swing,
No dirt: 100 yards.
Well it’s an improvement, I say,
and my love, she must take notice.

I smile at her,
Disconnected, disconnected.

We leave the driving range,
And I suggest dinner.
I take my love
our hands together,
Yet a grip held loosely.

7 years ago,
she told you,
she loved to hold your hand.

At dinner, my love and I,
we talk of the who’s and when’s
And how’s.
My chicken is undercooked,
Her stew a little cold,
I feel a heart the same.

Superficial, I think,
superficial.

My love comes to my apartment,
I cannot seem to
look her in the eye.
What’s happened to you friend?
You’ve looked so many in the eye!

She doesn’t look at you either,
maybe you’ve changed a bit.
I offer coffee,
While she suggests tea.
I decide to skip the them both,
And smoke a bowl instead.

Paranoia, I think,
Paranoia.

We lay on my bed
I hold her, she holds me.
Repetitive patterns
but it feels good to hold her.
I am tired,
she is already asleep.

Afraid to wake you my love,
Afraid to wake you.

I take the futon,
And she remains in bed.
Looking up at the ceiling,
I see no stars here.

I remember when I first saw her,
That girl she’ll be the one.
I had stars on my ceiling then,
And we used to make love.

Sleep doesn’t find me,
She snores on the bed.

Oh my love,
how I wish I could tell you
We’ve put up walls
Since then…


Copyright (c) David DeSantis


Comments about April Is The Same As Any Other Month.. by David DeSantis

  • (5/30/2008 4:17:00 AM)


    No more stars on the ceiling says it all. A sad line, but a profound line. You are not afraid to give yourself away in words. This is the mark of the true poet. Take care.

    Warmest regards,

    Sandra
    (Report) Reply

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  • Rose Falcone (5/2/2008 7:50:00 AM)


    No no no, comfort is NOT all we are entitled to. More sad truths David. Truly another great write...I gave it a 10! (Report) Reply

  • (4/22/2008 11:50:00 AM)


    Your honesty reminds me of Rembrandt self-portraits. When the blinding flashes of new love dissipate the chasms are revealed. Love either remains in a transformed state or not. Perhaps the safety of comfort are all we are entitled to have. (Report) Reply

  • (4/17/2008 4:51:00 PM)


    Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could always feel the excitement of new love, sadly sameness sets in, great poem, great title,10 for this
    Lynda xx
    (Report) Reply

  • (4/17/2008 12:45:00 PM)


    A deeply introspective narrative that reflects on the past and returns to the here and now knowing what was cannot be recaptured... lovely images too - esp liked the stars on the ceiling - great write! j. (Report) Reply

  • (4/17/2008 7:08:00 AM)


    A wonderfully visual poem. Painful picture. But, David, the driving range? What were you thinking of? :)

    F
    (Report) Reply

  • (4/16/2008 5:17:00 PM)


    David, the open style with flashes forward and back in an introspective, almost disconcerting musing, works rather well - enough for me to say Great! You've wisely let the poem choose its own form. Rgds, Ivan (Report) Reply

  • (4/16/2008 3:38:00 PM)


    almost impossible to recapture what you once had once the connection is faulty (Report) Reply

  • Yuri Duraan (4/16/2008 2:46:00 PM)


    I am intrigued by the title - - I really like it. Does it mean that things don't change... I also lik the image of the ceiling with stars when you were in love and now the ceiling does not have stars... deep thinker you are... unfortunate the girl... (Report) Reply

  • (4/16/2008 1:54:00 PM)


    this poem is beautiful. how it came from you i don't know haha. no but seriously this narration was deep and contrasted the ancient battle of the idea over the reality. well done chief smoke. (Report) Reply

  • (4/16/2008 12:22:00 PM)


    absolutely WOW, just wow. I know the feeling too. wow. (Report) Reply

  • (4/16/2008 11:14:00 AM)


    This is absolutely stunning. I think all too many will relate. t x (Report) Reply

  • (4/16/2008 10:58:00 AM)


    Wow! April is the same as any other month but Hell! this is good, I like the honesty in this poem. HG: -) xx (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Poem Edited: Friday, May 2, 2008


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