This is the last poem I’ll write for Robin <br />No more sad songs or <br />Lyrical longings <br />Enough with morbid metaphors, <br />Laments for lost love <br />I’m done with all that <br /> <br />Perhaps I’ll sell my house <br />Become a vagabond <br />And write <br />Songs of the Open Road. <br /> <br />Or compose cloying couplets <br />About rainbows, kittens and butterflies <br />The fresh morning dew and puppy dog eyes. <br /> <br />This is the last poem I’ll write for Robin <br />After all <br />Picking at scabs is unsanitary <br />Not to mention unsightly <br />And besides <br />It’s time to move on, <br />Maybe <br />Study iambic pentameter, compose sonnets of social satire <br />Or try my hand at <br />Tributes to my old teachers, <br />Patriotic paeans <br />And odes to a mothers love….. <br />Or on second thought; <br />Not. <br /> <br />I could rent a room on skid row <br />just a laptop, a microwave <br />and lots of cheap red wine. <br />Live out my years <br />boozing and brawling <br />and boasting <br />how I gave up my old life to <br />sleep with long legged lushes, <br />and write poems <br />filled with <br />real rage <br />and dark despair. <br /> <br />Or maybe I should <br />build a cabin in the woods <br />live <br />simply <br />and write poetry <br />about nature? <br />The sweeping grandeur <br />of sunsets <br />and <br />reveal God <br />in the details. <br />Write <br />sonnets about swallows, <br />an <br />“Ode to an Otter”, <br />but never <br />ever <br />write about <br />Robins. <br /> <br />(9/14/05)<br /><br />Richard Quinby<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-last-poem-for-robin/
