Poetry Friday again. This time I have for you a short rhyming poem that is masterful in rhythm and sound, yet seems light and playful. Playful, that is, until the last line, when Matthews brings us up short. Ver-ry interesting!
SAD STORIES TOLD IN BARS: THE “READER’S DIGEST” VERSION
First I was born and it was tough on Mom.
Dad felt left out. There’s much I can’t recall.
I seethed my way to speech and said a lot
of things: some were deemed cute. I was so small
my likely chance was growth, and so I grew.
Long days in school I filled, like a spring creek,
with boredom. Sex I discovered soon
enough, I now think. Sweet misery!
There’s not enough room in a poem so curt
to get me out of adolescence, yet
I’m nearing fifty with a limp, and dread
the way the dead get stacked up like a cord
of wood. Not much of a story, is it?
The life that matter’s not the one I’ve led.
photo by Ted Rosenberg