A Poem Called Thunder

Small scraps of paper
with scribbled lines,
all the smiles and tears
too shy to share
after the one I wrote you
on a napkin.

As I recall you glanced at it
then said the penmanship
needed work.
What about the poetry? I asked.
That too, you replied.

I would have tried again
I’d had enough of metaphor.
you threw the napkin out
with the pizza box.


2 thoughts on “A Poem Called Thunder

  1. Last lines nice ‘completion’ to the poem!

    Made me think of Zen saying…
    ‘When you meet a master swordsman, show him your sword. When you meet a man who is not a poet, do not show him your poem.’

    Perhaps one’s heart could be put in a similiar context…

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s