PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Your beauty was a broken thing,
And you played for me a song,

And you asked me if I loved you.

Honey, you have it all so wrong.

Love is in the proof of love,

And I have waited idly by

By the gates of zero hour

To see you by my side.

I've always loved the artist

Just as much as the great beauty,

And the thought, the mind inside,

The naked soul, so brave and rooted.

So tell me one more time

Of how you liberated France

In a past life you lived for God,

And how you like to dance.

Tell me one more time, my love,

Of how you came to save the world

And no one told you in your dreams

That you were just a girl.

Sing to me in gentle time,

Four-four, or five-six,

All the things that have transpired

Since we had to split.

If I pass notes through this wall

Like something from Shakespeare

Will you reply from your bohemia

Without an ounce of fear?

Forbidden love, keen and cracked,

Malevolent and odd,

It's possible we've lost our minds

But true love is never wrong.

We are not just two old flames.

We're far more than just that.

We're more than naked virgins now.

We're family, and that's that.

All those splendid Cohen songs

Come back striking like a bolt

With a taste of Paris, and of Rome,

And a dream cast like a vote.

A book I wrote for you

When I'd lost you, and lost my way.

A piece of my immortal soul

On each and every page.

A playbook, a neon bible,

A way to see things birght,

A pathway through the apple

Like the bankrupt beloved might.

These books that I write and read,

How they take my mind away,

And explain me, so meekly,

As I greet each passing day.

There's one that I've been reading

About a voyage on the sea,

And a war, and a return.

It's called the Odyssey.