Coward's Way Out Poem by James Walter Orr

Sometimes it’s sort of sad to send
An unseen smile across the way,
Not knowing if the smile will wend
Its way to where it can convey

At least a part of what is meant
For it to carry to its goal:
A shadow of the feelings sent,
And Oh! , if it could take the whole

Amount of all emotions spent,
And felt, though in words, finds no place,
But somehow showing one’s intent,
Without the words one cannot face.


Thoughts sometimes dance around the bush,
Like fairies in a dappled glade,
And under times relentless crush,
The words to bare one’s feelings fade.

Pride makes a coward of us all
In fear of rebuff and of scorn,
So though another may enthrall,
One opts to walk a path forlorn.

We circle ‘round the empty jug,
In Ring Around The Rosy dance,
Too shy to speak, too far to hug,
Without the glibness to entrance.


A troop of actors came to town.
And opened with their matinee;
One actress wore a lacy gown,
And oh, the things that she would say.

From her, I could not take my eyes
I stared, with what I thought was tact.
Her beauty did I idolize;
Oh, how I wished to join their act.

So obvious, I sat enrapt.
From time to time, she looked and smiled.
My heart and soul and mind were trapped,
And I was nothing but beguiled.


Their three day run drew to a close.
I watched them pack, with dumb despair.
My feet were glued, and my voice froze.
Like smoke, my dreams turned into air.

I saw her sidelong glances flung.
They turned their trucks into the track.
In helpless sorrow, my gaze hung,
Upon her sad eyes, looking back.

The voice I hear now is not hers;
It’s now a poet's voice I hear.
Once more this problem it infers,
For paralyzed, I can’t draw near.


Yet once again I face the blame,
Transformed to stone, I stand in shame.