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the tipping point

You were on the tip of my tongue
but I had nothing more to say,
and so it is
that poetry is by far the easiest
thing to swallow.

if you think I'm your friend, your lover,
your enemy or your Beloved
you're half-right
only as far as your thinking goes
so here goes a quick assessment
of the blessed rite of passage,
down, down where nobody knows
how far the truth goes
that never has been said
and left you for dead,
alive and kicking into that gaping mouth
that holds the void, opening,

opening and bidding you "come".


Editing stage: 


I don't believe I can articulate at this particular moment what it is about this poem I like so much. Perhaps that I just "totally get it"! as the youngsters say!
Particularly liked the link of the title to the piece!


Lol, Boni, I never made the connection before you vocalized it. Yesterday was a weird day in some weird times we're all going through, I guess.

Thanks for the bravo!


author comment

Quick one!
"if you think I'm you friend, your lover,
your enemy or your Beloved"
I'm sure you meant "your friend".

I don't really see how the title relates to the poem, and I probably don't get the message. :( I'll have to give this one a more thorough look, but some background would be appreciated.

No verse is free for the man who wants to do a good job. - TS Eliot

Thanks for the read & the heads up WIlliam. I must have read it and posted it a dozen times and not noticed it. Nor has anyone mentioned it before. That's just weird. So what else is new?

As far as the poem, much of the time, words just come through me, and I write, a little like *auto pilot*. If anything, if my poetry works at all, it is to hopefully, bring one to a place of quietude.

Or consideration, or waking up the inner muse who may or may not be amused.



author comment

Yes, my Anna, it was a weird day for many of us and disappinting for some of us.
But , I am still here-- to read not to post
This was a well written poem with beauty of movement and power of content. Easy for me to swallow.


HaHaHa! The poem was entirely about a sexual experience, Joe.

Besides, you can't help but write poetry, it's in your nature. You heard this story before?

The Scorpion and the Frog

One day, a scorpion looked around at the mountain where he lived and decided that he wanted a change. So he set out on a journey through the forests and hills. He climbed over rocks and under vines and kept going until he reached a river.

The river was wide and swift, and the scorpion stopped to reconsider the situation. He couldn't see any way across. So he ran upriver and then checked downriver, all the while thinking that he might have to turn back.

Suddenly, he saw a frog sitting in the rushes by the bank of the stream on the other side of the river. He decided to ask the frog for help getting across the stream.

"Hellooo Mr. Frog!" called the scorpion across the water, "Would you be so kind as to give me a ride on your back across the river?"

"Well now, Mr. Scorpion! How do I know that if I try to help you, you wont try to kill me?" asked the frog hesitantly.

"Because," the scorpion replied, "If I try to kill you, then I would die too, for you see I cannot swim!"

Now this seemed to make sense to the frog. But he asked. "What about when I get close to the bank? You could still try to kill me and get back to the shore!"

"This is true," agreed the scorpion, "But then I wouldn't be able to get to the other side of the river!"

"Alright do I know you wont just wait till we get to the other side and THEN kill me?" said the frog.

"Ahh...," crooned the scorpion, "Because you see, once you've taken me to the other side of this river, I will be so grateful for your help, that it would hardly be fair to reward you with death, now would it?!"

So the frog agreed to take the scorpion across the river. He swam over to the bank and settled himself near the mud to pick up his passenger. The scorpion crawled onto the frog's back, his sharp claws prickling into the frog's soft hide, and the frog slid into the river. The muddy water swirled around them, but the frog stayed near the surface so the scorpion would not drown. He kicked strongly through the first half of the stream, his flippers paddling wildly against the current.

Halfway across the river, the frog suddenly felt a sharp sting in his back and, out of the corner of his eye, saw the scorpion remove his stinger from the frog's back. A deadening numbness began to creep into his limbs.

"You fool!" croaked the frog, "Now we shall both die! Why on earth did you do that?"

The scorpion shrugged, and did a little jig on the drownings frog's back.

"I could not help myself. It is my nature."

Then they both sank into the muddy waters of the swiftly flowing river.

Self destruction - "Its my Nature", said the Scorpion...

author comment

I love you, my Anna. You can lways get me away from myself ::)). I will write poetry but won't post here. I will be around to read.

Pl;enty of room for a visit from you and Barry


Good. Now don't let any of us scorpions get near your better half. No not that, the other better half.

;-) Post away my friend, here there and everywhere, that's all anyone of us is doing until that great final pie in the sky says: eat me.

Something that may be of interest on Ted Talks. One of the best informational sites around.

Julian Baggini: "IS THERE A REAL YOU".... about 12 minutes 14 seconds long.

author comment

Thanks, my Anna.:)

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