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It Means That Much
It Means That Much
Copyright © July 10, 2021 by Douglas W. Jerving.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a
retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopy, recording, or otherwise, without prior permission of the author, except
as provided by USA copyright law.
We are ending our relationship.
It is over, and it had to be.
Had to be but never really worked.
Anyway, it never worked out well.
Not very well, like quill and the pot
The old poets drank from, their dark ink;
No, not near well as the Sturm und Drang
That cast the classic neos to the sea
As if they were the real charlatans.
Not even as the Braques and Picassos
Whose modernism finally is tossed
By the post-mod idiots of our times.
We had some good times. Time is good
So long as it is just a measurement.
But time is always measured first in joy
And then frustration balances it out.
Try as I might, hard to make it work,
Ten years, should I have made it twenty,
She still could nor would do for me my
Desire, nor the corner I painted her.
It was not her fault anyway. She
Dragged in former lovers every day!
That just made the whole thing quite a mess.
No medium would suffice my work.
She was just too liquid for my style.
I needed the heaviness of oil
While all she did was erase from me
The former glorious ground put down,
And the underpainting taken too,
Back to the horrifying canvas white
So loath to me since first I put brush
To that epicenter of my life.
I have writ for all to see tonight
My bill of divorce dear Acryla!
I am done with you and I return
To my wife, my dear, my Beloved.
My canvas loves her oil and I
Am not shy to say it means that much
That I return joyfully to her.
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Doug Jerving is the publisher of the NewEdisonGazette.com. You may contact him at
djerving@newedisongazette.com.
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