There's so much more to say about love. Why do you stop here?
because i wouldn't want my fingers to bleed.
actually, diana, to answer you honestly, i stopped here because i was done. ie. i said what i wanted to say.
well, it's okay. sort of an axiom
i mean, to be honest as well, i feel like not only have i read this before, but i've read this before specifically from you.
mm. i just dunno.
There's more to be said, unless you're the be-all, end-all authority on love. Anytime someone uses a one-word title for a poem, it implies total definition, no matter whether what you meant.
how can you argue about something so subjective diana?
everyone is their own authority on love.
I love it, Hank; I love the starkness of the words and the emphasis that the line-breaks and the brevity give. It hit me directly; I wouldn't dilute that with stanze upon stanze expanding on something that you have already pristinely described.
Udder failure. Moo.
What about the part of love that allows you to let her go?
I once loved someone so much, that when she left, I let her, because I wanted her to be content. I sacrificed my being with her so that she could be with another. Love is fucked up and the most convoluted non-existence there exists. A poor poem, if you want to explain love in brevity, just use a metaphor. It is the only thing that can attack with depth.
And in defense of Diana, although she requires none, that was her authority on love. And therefore, she expressed it. The "subjective" idea is implied in every molecule of the universe, we don't need to start a critique or any form of communication with "what I am saying is subjective." She told her truth, what the fuck is your problem that you cannot accept her? Perhaps it is you, unknown, that does not understand subjectivity.
But Hank, I suggest a serious rethinking of this poem because you have left love in a dry place. For the sake of love, don't let love live by your poem, it simply does not hold her beauty steady. I think, eventually, you will have to agree...unless you are an udder failure. Moo.
It's in keeping with your style and voice. Why explain all in one poem when you can catch a single moment and call it truth for one second. The beauty of poets who catalogue life and leave the body of their work up, is that what they write gains depth from what has proceeded it. You're an interesting man hank, I'd buy your collection and felt I knew you a little better through reading it.
has anyone read this as if it is 'to' my love?
Yes hank. I thought it was read.
ahhhh, hank. so true, so succinct, so all that we are rendered capable of. in love. hooray. nappies, anyone?
Surely you can give us more than this? This makes you seem selfish and immature, wanting only one thing or else you won't play with anyone.
That is self love, nothing more.
Ok, I've gone through all the comments now and realize I'm not the only one who expected a lot more here.
I still say it's self-centered "love," which is good for the time you're grieving over losing someone but in the long run, none of us survive for long this way, we are social creatures made to need each other, not just one person.
I still want more, Hank. More, I tell ya!!!
i bet tyler's laughing at us.
we won't know.
i betty he has a sprig of lavender in his back pocket and a multi-legged bug called jaws who he jaws with as he writes a poem with a quill 'tween his toes
or he's drunk
a real poem is a real poem and this poem is real or so i betty
This poem goes beyond beautifulness. Amazing how much can be said with just a few words...
self centered love is honest. you're just saying what most of us might say if we weren't so keen not to be selfish. i WON'T play anymore unless i get what i want. nothing wrong with that!!!