Poetry Blogs (wife)

The Other Woman

I feel sorry for her

She believes your lies

Wipes tears from your eyes

She thinks you care,

Always be there.

We know that’s fake

Rotten wedding cake,

Broken vows,

Affairs with old cows, 

Twisted memories told,

Left out in the cold. 

Beaten and broken, 

Heart torn open,

All still to come, 

Treated like scum,

The future holds this,

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Its amazing how quickly time passes

I only heard about him the other day

I got a call from my cousin Katherine

It was her told me he had passed away

A completely new outfit is essential

At my age you have to put on a show

Time for a manicure, see to my hair

Show them I never lost that old mojo

They'll be wondering will I turn up

It will be fun to keep them gues...

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Like small children divorces are messy

Legal fees only add to the frustration

But perhaps the hardest thing of all

Is coping with an ex-partner's indignation

It's not easy but we must be fair to Belinda

She gave me the best years of her life

After all she is the mother of my kids

She was, all in all, a half-decent wife

Of course dear, you are my partner now

Bel...

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Sitting to the east

Sloping down to the edge  

Of that other world

In the summer sun

In the winter chill

The sentinel watched over

The little family in the cottage in the hollow

Lately it had felt her sorrow  

It knew when she left Pant y Lleiniau

And walked slowly along the cart track

To reach the little bridge under the trees

Where she crossed Nant yr Efail ...

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You’ve never met a girl this futuristic 

Never self serving she’s altruistic 

She loves to admire your acoustic 

Smiles and listens to you do this 

You don’t understand her it’s obvious 

She fights for love like a lobbyist 

You’re oblivious when it comes to feelings

There is no such thing as a glass ceiling 

Nights with her will leave you reeling

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                                    After Ezra Pound and Giacomo Leopardi

And so you were

everything to me, that is now less than dust –

                        lost, captive of the soil

That surrounds and nourishes my soul.

And so now I –

still stranded, umbral shade of past desire – 

                        left, am guardian of sad recall

watching branch and blo...

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In the beginning he would wake at every peculiar sound that came from the babies crib 

In the beginning he would bring me a beverage as I fed his son whilst the moon was dimly lit 

In the beginning he would rush home from work eager to see the family he created 

In the beginning we were the people whom he could be himself and escape with 

In the beginning we were enough 

He wou...

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