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Me and My.....

Me And My…

In the faint shadow of tide,
I still feel wanting there.
Just short of perdition’s pride,
almost touching despair.

Does it matter who left who,
this ache will never heal.
I placed a life with you,
thinking it was real.

Ha! the fool lord above!
following that well worn trail.
She could never give love,
it was always doomed to fail.

Better to have loved than not,
am I really such a deluded fool.
I had such a simple thought,
that love belonged inside a rule.

But no the wicked witches wail,
he had no right to even engage.
He tried love on such a scale,
his story flew straight off a page.

He had boxes still to tick,
she’s looking for the next toy
She had visions of being chic,
he thought she’d bring joy.

Ending badly for him it seems,
is he man enough to survive
Nightmares that once were dreams,
let him know he’s still alive.

Solitary confinement can’t be worse,
than these feelings ripping through.
Most nights a bottle or two I’ll nurse,
better that than this, life I view.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
What Macartney realised was silly...
Editing stage: 

Comments

Why is it that really good poets seem to lose from 10 to 90 percent of their ability when they write love poetry? Especially love lost poetry. In your case maybe only 5 percent. I really got the pain, anguish and loss. Yet you resort to devices you never normally do.
Cliches
Better to have loved than not,
Sillyness
that love belonged inside a rule.
Yodaish inversions
Most nights a bottle or two I’ll nurse,

Hey, I'm only being so harsh, Roscoe, because I know you are much better than this. And this is still far superior to most in the genre. Some great lines and images.
The whole first stanza.
Some poetic music.
But no the wicked witches wail,

Nightmares that once were dreams,
let him know he’s still alive.

It's bit of a hotchpotch, mate. Sorry to stand on deep felt pain. It's like when I write about my prime passion, corporate evil. I always lose sight of the poetry.

cheers,
Jess
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Thank you Jess, it's one of those that jump out, and i'd be a coward not to have it posted and roasted if you know what i mean. LOL. Regards Roscoe...

Roscoe Llane,

Religion will rip your faith off, and return
for the mask of disbelief that's left.

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