Robert J Meyer
Robert J Meyer Poems
|46.||Two Friends In Crisis||8/26/2007|
|47.||Before The Lines||9/13/2007|
|53.||Even When You Lose, You Win||4/26/2007|
|56.||Before, During And After||8/15/2007|
|57.||Sunrise In Chicago River West||8/25/2007|
|61.||The Ultimate Incurable Disease||3/11/2007|
|64.||On Reading Graham Greene's 'The Quiet American'||5/5/2007|
|66.||Reading Neruda To My Lover||8/11/2007|
|70.||Woman Of Poems||4/18/2007|
Woman Of Poems
She is - mysterious
A calf, a thigh, a curve of the belly
The silken skin revealing
The chestnut hair concealing
Who is the lady?
She weaves through my dreams
Offering a tender foot for my caress
Or a dance that promises so much more
An invitation to dine on her passion
Or leaving her essence on my white dress shirt
Her wardrobe in another reverie
Her words knit fantasy to fantasy
But her mouth, her face, remains elusive
No lips to kiss
No eyes to reflect my devotion back to me
No cheek to lavish with kisses
She circles and reveals ...
The Christmas when my marriage died and nothing came out right
I’d flown into Nebraska, but Althea missed that flight.
My parents had her gifts around the Christmas tree alight,
But since she was St. Louis bound, it was a silent night.
The year my little brother’s schizoid fantasies did bite
The family photo ended with the threat of a knife fight.
But he had grabbed a butter knife so no blood spilled, no fright,
So handcuffs and the looney bin, it was a silent night.