Quixotic

What, exactly, am I to understand
        about your behavior?
There’s a desperation in your movement
        that belies your grace
as you scan the pub for your savior
        with that smile-cemented face.

My glance shifts to new perspectives,
        discontent cycles anew
when trying to seek meaning in the
        cheery curve of your eye.
I used to long to get to know you
        before losing all reasons why.

In a tight spiral, you slope
        down to the bare ground,
hooting with curses to quake
        the isolation of the room.
That auto-pilot of thought unsound
        lingers beyond your mere gloom.

Perhaps, if our age wasn’t so
        cursed with convolution
we’d find some way to share
        more than just snappy patter
or faint whispers of lush solutions,
        taunting modes which don’t matter.

Instead, I’ll watch from my distance,
        scanning your weakened force.
Somewhere within lies a dormant resolve
        capable of vaulting you to distinction.
I pray that substance paves a course
        before you flirt with extinction.

by John Weber

Comments (11)

A great poem in the section, so well chosen. I feel happy to have read it. Loved every imagery, especially the old tear holding onto the injuries. Sounds great. 10+++++++.
an intriguing poet- -wow- have to read this again- want to read this again- -its immediacy is so vibrant and the last two lines resonate especially
People's suffering is described using elements of nature. The poem is a prayer for true saving love. The suffering of the hermit is in contrast to that of the world that is hopeless.
Yes! ! ! Love should be put into action! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
The scene painted along the railroad tracks is familiar, well-rendered. My mind goes to how this mode of transportation, once so important, that once made a few quite rich—in part from government handouts—has sunk from prominence. A weird connection perhaps, but Shelley’s Ozymandias—for comparison—comes to mind. -GK
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