If the room
is the tomb
then the elephant
is irrelevant.
From my heart was shown
how very much I loved her—
could she not have known?
I have found my voice.
I do not rejoice—I fear
I have lost your ear.
Haiku remind me
of tasty little morsels—
popcorn poetry.
Joe Tessitore is a retired New York City resident and poet.
Excellent sense for imagery and style. Love the cold elements
Thank you, Paul, for this poignant and sensitive reflection. It's truly an experience to read it. Best wishes, Bruce.
Thank you! I have been to Warsaw a few times, and passed through it even more. The lakes out there…
Probably the best thing you have ever written Brian. Superbly dark and frightening to read, as I hunt out the…
Awesome work, I love how the three stanzas of the poem correspond with the 3 letter acronym, with every line…
We fight this cold, uncivil war.
Whatever for? Whatever for?
An elephant has indeed entered the room since I submitted these, and to talk about anything else but impeachment seems to me to be truly foolish.
I wonder if any of you are as angry and as heartbroken about it as I am, and if any of you believe that there’s light at the end of this tunnel we now find ourselves in?
Joe,
This is the light-hearted (I hope not entirely foolish) response to your post that popped into my head before reading your own very sober comment.
Regarding “Irrelevant”: true indeed. But —
If the setting
Were a wedding,
The pachyderm
Might make you squirm.
Nothing wrong with a good laugh!
The elephant calls out:
Here I am! I matter!
As he goes balls out
In eloquent chatter.
David, do you mean “bawls” out?
Interesting both ways – good that you asked!
“Going balls out” is a slang term with much the same meaning as “going all out” or “to the fullest extent.” I was referring to the sound an elephant makes.
Example: The jockey went balls out going down the home stretch. He gave it everything he had.
Joe, you owe a debt to Ogden Nash. He wrote a bit of light verse in which he rhymed “elephant” with “irrelevant.” If I’m not mistaken, in that same poem he rhymed “rhinoceros” with “preposterous.””
I wish I would’ve thought of that last one.
I once thought I came up with “Can butter fly?” and a fourteen-year-old told me “Not so much.”