{"id":760,"date":"2015-12-07T00:11:46","date_gmt":"2015-12-07T06:11:46","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.poemsforpatti.com\/love\/?p=760"},"modified":"2015-12-07T00:13:40","modified_gmt":"2015-12-07T06:13:40","slug":"what-poets-forgot","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.poemsforpatti.com\/love\/2015\/12\/07\/what-poets-forgot\/","title":{"rendered":"What Poets Forgot"},"content":{"rendered":"

So many famous lines have come from poet’s thought,<\/span><\/p>\n

I have often wondered of the lines that the poets forgot,<\/span><\/p>\n

There must have been the moments when the wife called,<\/span><\/p>\n

Or when he woke from a deep sleep, were lines recalled,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

If written by me “Oh Patti, Patti, where are you Patti” I cried,<\/span><\/p>\n

It doesn’t sound the same if said “thou” it can’t be denied,<\/span><\/p>\n

Juliet had her Romeo and she cried for him into the night,<\/span><\/p>\n

Words of perfection came from Shakespeare’s story of plight,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Many interpretations have been made in how the story is told,<\/span><\/p>\n

But everyone must agree it must be considered artistic gold,<\/span><\/p>\n

“Love on the Dance Floor” has been said to be my very best,<\/span><\/p>\n

But it really doesn’t matter when it comes my time to rest,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

How you feel of me is more important than any written rhyme,<\/span><\/p>\n

Others say “A Sailboat of Paper M\u00e2ch\u00e9” is my best dream line,<\/span><\/p>\n

In that dream state I search for you from child to adult male,<\/span><\/p>\n

How close we all stand next to death is hidden within that tale,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

I fear as I age I won’t find the words to describe my open heart,<\/span><\/p>\n

The only reason I cherish this skill is to describe my love in art,<\/span><\/p>\n

I’m no sculptor nor writer of song, to say I’m an artist is a stretch,<\/span><\/p>\n

If only I could paint your portrait or even a carbon to paper sketch,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Second thoughts come to mind so often they should differ by name,<\/span><\/p>\n

In bundles they come instead of one second thought non the same,<\/span><\/p>\n

It’s numerical in value not a measurement of time in this poet’s rhyme,<\/span><\/p>\n

Within my thoughts are images of you draped in mood colors each time,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

No matter the background or color your image is of an angel in glow,<\/span><\/p>\n

To describe an angel is impossible in task it’s the hardest thing I know,<\/span><\/p>\n

For fifty years I’ve searched for the words of perfection my angel in pink,<\/span><\/p>\n

My mind sees moods as colors and colors envelop the emotions I think,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

How many lines have I forgotten that were perfection and color draped,<\/span><\/p>\n

Was love’s perfect description once in my mind and has it escaped,<\/span><\/p>\n

Magenta is how I see passions escape from one heart to the next,<\/span><\/p>\n

In a moment of passionate ecstasy did it escape to Infiniti complexed,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Pause, take pause I beg, consider that within each thought you lie,<\/span><\/p>\n

Very deep thought brought through my memories from my eye,<\/span><\/p>\n

Of you and for you the process of life has existed within this form,<\/span><\/p>\n

I, the man so in love with you, have admitted my love is beyond norm,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Each line of most every poem written for nearly fifty years is of you,<\/span><\/p>\n

The search for perfection of word, words to describe my heart through,<\/span><\/p>\n

I take breath as a child at times in awe of his first beautiful recognition,<\/span><\/p>\n

I cry as a child when thoughts of the end will bring physical separation,<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Love will always bring heartache unless parting was accidental,<\/span><\/p>\n

Reality brings thoughts of truth that for one of us it will be horrible,<\/span><\/p>\n

But until my heart can no longer beat I will seek perfection in word,<\/span><\/p>\n

Perfect words or lines to say “I love you”, words you’ve already heard.<\/span><\/p>\n

The end, by Pat for Patti.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

So many famous lines have come from poet’s thought, I have often wondered of the lines that the poets forgot, There must have been the moments when the wife called, Or when he woke from a deep sleep, were lines recalled,   If written by me “Oh Patti, Patti, where are you Patti” I cried, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-760","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","category-uncategorized","czr-hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poemsforpatti.com\/love\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/760","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poemsforpatti.com\/love\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poemsforpatti.com\/love\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poemsforpatti.com\/love\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poemsforpatti.com\/love\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=760"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.poemsforpatti.com\/love\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/760\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":763,"href":"https:\/\/www.poemsforpatti.com\/love\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/760\/revisions\/763"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poemsforpatti.com\/love\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=760"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poemsforpatti.com\/love\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=760"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poemsforpatti.com\/love\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=760"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}