Alexander Shaumyan

Rookie - 200 Points (July 12,1962 / Moscow, Russia)

Yes, It Just Might Be - Poem by Alexander Shaumyan

Twisted fantasies of long ago-
The gap between
What love was
And what love now is-
And the sobering reality
Of being alone
In the world of perpetual
'Love is all' disease.

Too many lovers
Have gone my way,
Leaving me wondering if
It's all it takes-
One pretty smile,
One pretty face
To make you lose your head,
Make you lose your sleep-
One more set of lips
In hell's eternity.

But I've tasted too much
Along the way
And I can't pretend
That you're no one
Until you're loved
By some woman
Who waits and waits
Just for you alone
To share her love.

When I was a child,
I knew a way to be
Was to run with the stars,
Chasing butterflies,
And I knew my heart
Was as open then
As the moon tonight
In the placid sky.

And the ocean waves
Were my lovers then,
Not some thrice divorced
And life-bored femmes fatales-
Love was never some
Kids and house dream,
With a perfect car
And a gorgeous wife.

Love was just a way
Of being free,
Running your fingers through
A lover's curls,
Stretched in a field
Until 4 am,
Smiling foolishly
At a pretty girl.

I got sick of new love
With its razor blades,
Depressed chicks in black,
With black painted nails,
Phony savior poets
Crucified in trees-
That was never love,
Never for me.

Love was never some
Long-term pension plan
For some long haul dream
With a picket fence
And a dog named Ron,
Love was never some deal-
Signed and sealed,
Vowed in vampire's blood,
Not to be undone.

What is love but a curious way
To be idiotic in the world
That's bored,
With too much of everything
And nothing at all-
Just to be despised,
Just to be adored,
Just to be anything,
Just to be free...

Just to kiss a girl
With hot fiery lips,

Just to stroke her
Hair, her thighs
And hips-

Yes, it just might be,
It just might be,
Might be fun again
To be in


March 14,2007

Comments about Yes, It Just Might Be by Alexander Shaumyan

  • (3/15/2007 11:22:00 PM)

    Love is something good, bad and ugly......depending on your attitude. I remember when I was young and in love for the first time. I was such the fool. I look at myself yesterday, having been in love for over twenty seven years with the same in and day out.....I am still such the fool. But a fool is better than being an idiot. Your poem reaches into the heart and plucks an out of tune string, but to me it still sounds like fun...... (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, March 15, 2007

Poem Edited: Wednesday, February 2, 2011

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