The One That Got Away - After Oscar Wilde - Ballad Of Reading Gaol Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY
He was not dressed up to the nines
when into sight he came
yet their sad story‘s tell-tale signs
still echoes as soft name
queue jumps beyond bland waiting lines
sets fond heart's hopes aflame.

She'd never seen one who'd pursue
with such a constant eye
that tent of cerulean hue
which lovers call the sky
as to disperse each cloud on cue
that would dream theme deny.

She sought behind his bright facade
true inner attributes,
charisma, charm, cute iris jade,
style guile and wile refutes,
true tenor cadence voice displayed,
won accolade en route.

It seems that time had never passed,
no distance in fate's cards,
it seems that rhyme within at last
might rival famous bards,
it seems that skies once overcast
smiled sunshine, lowered guards.

And yet, she asks herself again,
how could her utmost need
through spell cast fast meet no refrain
though her desires found seed.
Love's arrow flew, but flew in vain -
still on flight's light she'd feed.

Yet time-locks may themselves disdain
when heart fond heart has keyed, -
"one way's" no gain, can cause much pain,
though few cue hidden bleed.
To suffer bane, weighs, heavy chain
when love's tide won't recede.

Some kill love young, through acts unjust
some through colloquy cold;
some wrangle, strangle, silent lust
wrings songs with hands of gold:
Cold cads affections feign, let rust,
trust's dialogue withhold.

Some love too little, some too long,
some sell while others buy;
some bark, bite, some take flight, 'so long! '
branch out without a sigh:
too many kill love once held strong,
yet too few, jilted, die.

Some, boisterous, advance as glance
upon them falls and glows,
obtuse, some, vain excuse askance,
fear dance, show mirage goes.
Those who love's purpose fathom, Chance,
Fate, faithful, grant repose.

Her reverie he will remain -
the one that got away -
the one who turned her down, the pain,
the one who would not stay,
the one of whom she can't complain,
though ripe must piper pay.

With curious eyes, sad, sick surmise,
she watched him night and day,
wondered if fiction fact defies
intact or washed away
would end - red Hell or soar blue skies,
her sentiments would stray.

‘Tis said the goal we can't obtain
haunts on, and this cliché
although it goes against the grain
retains some truth and may
return to taunt pained spirit, strain,
to daunt day after day.

Where wan starts, smart charts head, heart, brain
still troubles, there dismay
for years on end, tears sends, then plain
stark message one should weigh -
that neither "now" nor "then" champagne
may bubble, till interplay
elsewhere is found to break new ground
and form fair partnership
that's nor cloned, clowned, nor stalls unsound,
that needs nor goad nor whip,
yet brings ring's magic to astound
imagination's grip.

True magic's page may set new stage
on Internet, elsewhere.
Untouched by age may progress gauge,
excitement whet, prepare
no golden cage - osmosis sage
which will assuage, not wear.

It seems he knew another, true,
or false, - that, time will tell.
Her dream - his theme - harsh tempest blew
away, yet still strong spell
remains to show that prompt or cue
can't fight fate's blow, heart's hell.

The rule of thumb that rule of won
when one adds one to two,
won't, once begun, end distance run, -
if hindsight only knew!
Try angles' sum triangles some
seek, and seek anew.

This story might discover light
despite years shed, sped fast
fresh hope rewrite for scope, delight
ambitions all surpassed
by meeting rich defeating blight
which with past fears contrasts.

Dear God! each day time'd prison wall
seemed, beached film's hopeful reel,
saw sky above lose love, hopes fall,
turn torture, scorching steel.
Instead of love's lips kissed, soul stalled
in pain, brain feared to feel.

He was not dressed up to the nines
when to her mind he came
and yet their story‘s tell-tale signs
re-echoed and became
cue jumping lines - each thought refines...
may heart, head stay the same ?