revised version:
Those Fools, My Feet
Don't blame me. My feet
instinctively trail after you.
What can I do? They pursue you
ignoring my pleas
to forget you.
Worn out, my feet languish
at the day's end in a steamy basin
like invalids in a hot spring's
healing waters.
Despite the day's distances
they arrive as always
at the same place where they
began, without a future,
no more loved than if
they were big, barking
dogs.
first version:
Those Fools, My Feet
Don't blame me. My feet
instinctively trail after you
--clumsily, the way loneliness
follows heartbreak.
Yet how you shun them,
as if they were merely
pedestrian.
How could any woman love
such sweaty, pale faces?
Do you look at me the same way?
What can I do? My feet pursue you
ignoring my pleas
to forget you. When did women
stop wanting loyalty?
Worn out, my feet languish
at the day's end in a steamy basin
like invalids in a hot spring's
healing waters.
Despite the day's distances
they arrive as always
at the same place where they
began, without a future,
no more loved than if
they were big, barking
dogs.
note: This is an old poem that I'm revising...
Those Fools, My Feet
Re: Those Fools, My Feet
Bob--
closing 15 lines are wonderful....
now, the opening.
i get the extended metaphor, the feet almost as a force of their own.
the opening 2 lines, set our parameters. no need for more, it feels like overkill to me;
--clumsily, the way loneliness
follows heartbreak.
Yet how you shun them,
as if they were merely
telly, too. yes/no?
i wonder, can we break the lock step format?
have the feet side by side with her feet. a gap of light under a sill as she sleeps and he remains awake, restless as a goose, the light no more than a failed but good intention of God...
i might rejoin the poem here:
What can I do? My feet pursue you
ignoring my pleas
to forget you. When did women
stop wanting loyalty?
Worn out, my feet languish
at the day's end in a steamy basin
like invalids in a hot spring's
healing waters.
however, consider dropping the feet persona in favor of the narrator, flesh and blood.
What can I do,
flapping in the heavens,
when did women
stop wanting men like me.
I pad to the steamy bath,
naked and utterly alone.
I am an invalid in a film
about healing waters.
hey wish i had some ole poem around so good as this one.
bernie
closing 15 lines are wonderful....
now, the opening.
i get the extended metaphor, the feet almost as a force of their own.
the opening 2 lines, set our parameters. no need for more, it feels like overkill to me;
--clumsily, the way loneliness
follows heartbreak.
Yet how you shun them,
as if they were merely
telly, too. yes/no?
i wonder, can we break the lock step format?
have the feet side by side with her feet. a gap of light under a sill as she sleeps and he remains awake, restless as a goose, the light no more than a failed but good intention of God...
i might rejoin the poem here:
What can I do? My feet pursue you
ignoring my pleas
to forget you. When did women
stop wanting loyalty?
Worn out, my feet languish
at the day's end in a steamy basin
like invalids in a hot spring's
healing waters.
however, consider dropping the feet persona in favor of the narrator, flesh and blood.
What can I do,
flapping in the heavens,
when did women
stop wanting men like me.
I pad to the steamy bath,
naked and utterly alone.
I am an invalid in a film
about healing waters.
hey wish i had some ole poem around so good as this one.
bernie
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Re: Those Fools, My Feet
Thanks, Bernie....I agree--cutting those lines would improve things. You have been a fresh set of eyes, and a big help. Best, Bob