Melancholy heart wavers
Like a sinking ship
From inward disappointment
Of life plans crumbling
On the unsavory streets
Of urban despair.
I dream of brushing
A beautiful woman’s hair
With the lavish possibilities
Of a millionaire,
But I daily catch curbside coins
Instead of the shimmering diamonds
I desire to place around her throat.
I’m never agitated for long,
Even though I have the empty stare
Of a preoccupied professor
At an archeological dig.
You would find me a sweet lover
In my little shack and poetry bed
Of hopeless resignation.
I know my insignificant place,
But I remain a romantic Romeo nonetheless.
Superb poem. Life as you see it from your own personal window on the world. Take care. Kindest regards, Sandra
I was swooning at this, until I read the 'insignificant' bit. And you know how cross that made me that your wonderful self should even contemplate thinking such a thing... head and shoulders above any mere Romeo, you are. t x
Oh Romeo! By a name, I know not how to tell thee how good a piece I think this is! Clair
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Is the stare of a preoccupied professor really empty? Surely if he is preoccupied his mind is in fact very full of thoughts? A small comment about an otherwise interesting glimpse at the poet's worldview.