I am glad that I long not for you.
That the heavy sphere of Earth
does not turn under our feet.
I am glad that it’s ok to be funny
— spoiled — and waste no time with games;
not to be choked by a wave of blushing
when our sleeves touch ever so slightly.
I also like that you are undisturbed in my presence
your arms around another woman,
That you don’t ask me to burn in poisoned
flames when I kiss not you;
That, sweetheart, you don’t call my sweet name
any day nor night, at any time,
That in the calm of an Eastern Church
they will never sing for us: hallelujah!
I thank you with my heart and hand
for your — unbeknown to you! — love of me,
For my peace at night, for how seldom
we meet at the sunset hour;
For our non-walks under the moon,
For the sun not over our heads,
For your longing — alas! — not for me,
For my longing — alas! — not for you.
Performed in the film “The Irony”:
It may seem like a stretch at first but I really think when you read it carefully this poem exemplifies the difficulty in identity and rights management.
Most of us is math, which comes as no
Surprise: The limbs of trees circle
The trunk, leaves the branch, all
Spin slowly the great tap root. This
Can be seen from palm frond about
The nut, arms and legs popping from
The spine, twinned brains blooming.
Go down deep and you hit math. Every
Time. Darwin shaped it up by
Statistics. A natural arithmetic.
He stopped there, but because each
Poem should have one great idea,
Here: Extrapolation is genetic.
That should account for you, big eyes.
I tried so hard my dear to show that you’re my every dream
Yet you’re afraid each thing I do is just some evil scheme
A memory from your lonesome past keeps us so far apart
Why can’t I free your doubtful mind and melt your cold cold heart
Another love before my time made your heart sad and blue
And so my heart is paying now for things I didn’t do
In anger unkind words are said that make the teardrops start
Why can’t I free your doubtful mind, and melt your cold cold heart
There was a time when I believed that you belonged to me
But now I know your heart is shackled to a memory
The more I learn to care for you, the more we drift apart
Why can’t I free your doubtful mind and melt your cold cold heart
as performed by Norah Jones
a blog about the poetry of information security, since 1995