Women are punctuations of grammar.
A flowing dress moving along a sidewalk will always need a period, comma, or question mark. The sight of the hem of her slip, disorder among the breeze, or without a slip revealed by the x-ray Sun demands an exclamation point. A raised eyebrow, for when she stops to talk to you. Quotations cannot represent the meanings of her words as the warm day becomes a summer evening of kisses, sipping Bloody Marys, and being alive to share this beauty and steal her olive and cocktail onion.
A man writes with mortar, labors upon blank spaces. Buys drinks. Builds sidewalks where he hopes she passes in sunlight, and stay with him past twilight. With eyebrow raised, he takes her hand while an evening breeze reveals her hem. Through all the novels, plays, and poems, all the wings made of wax that did not last and melted away, a life like Prometheus flying into the Sun, he steals her olive and cocktail onion. To her it is now less tasty, less the full delight of her Bloody Mary left with just a celery stalk, undone, and lacking frills.
She is pouting. Looking into the poet eyes of E.E. Cummings she proclaims; “You’re just a writer with no punctuation skills.”
Categories: Humor, Life, Observations, People
It all leads down the road of a prepositional phrase. One so very wrong and unspoken.
Have a Bloody Mary and relax 🙂
I want to like Bloddy Marys……the best I could do was like making them when I slung drinks. It was like fixing up a light lunch for someone.
I found that poem slightly offensive and please do not send me anymore, thank you!
I have no idea what poem you received and more likely I didn’t send it….However you must be in the EL BROOKMAN Poem of the Week Club and they sent it….. I’m loved by millions in Europe.
He really is…..wonder what was offensive about it?
That’s some sparking wordplay there – – in fact that’s more like serious scultping WordWork. I think you learned to make language yield to your intentions and portray your precise meaning long ago and now someone like me gets to reap the benefits from studying it closely and maybe coming back for one ore parenthetical aside between friends.
Yes Miss Menopause, I did learn…..long ago. A world ago. (We shall be friends ! )
Little Miss menopause can always just describe your work so beautifully. Your words are like Whispers upon the wind and they just flow so beautifully. Your words are never ordinary
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