Article in Arts / Literature / Poetry
The military buzz, “snafu,” — "situation normal, all f*&%ed up” — describes so well where politics & religion have landed us, once a great democracy. I felt that in this predicament it'd be entertaining to share two old-fashioned love poems: the cynic can snark, the moralist rant, & a few may weep.


You are all the peace I will ever know,
The world in your body the Eden I need,
Though death will draw the curtains on our show
Before we can finish the script we read.

Cynics sneer and the pious tsk … tsk … tsk
We learn every day how cruel they are.
They’ve forgotten how and why we kiss
As if it’s all in the rear of a steamy car.

But that’s not the only story time may tell,
Nor must we abandon our script and roles.
We drink, even the bitter, from our chosen well
And cherish our bodies as we free our souls.

These words are the sonnet I an actor write
For us to rehearse our performance tonight.

“Madam, How Like You This Play?”

Seeing how you see it now, from afar,
I pause and wonder again who you are.

I do not trust you. How could I? You left.
And yet somehow I do not feel bereft.

We know we have only our bodies’ means
To reach across the dread of broken dreams.

Whatever story we survive to tell —
Of love or hate, of joy, or living hell —

We know we could have behaved much better
Than act each part some other player’s debtor. to Shut Down Permanently on December 31, 2017

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About the Author 

R Allen Shoaf
EROTIC RECKONINGS, my second volume of poetry, can now be purchased from New Plains Press or from Amazon. My third volume, PIED-PIPER PHILOL

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