Poetry: Every Passing Day

Hey all!

I gotta say, It hasn't been easy, but I'm currently on my 30 for 30 streak and I'm still on track, though really I need to start branching out in some different territory. By the 20th day its just going to end of being alternating Flash Fiction and Poetry posts. I've still got an idea for a few more columns, specifically a make up column or two on the Rewind or on the Word Balloon.

But I digress, let's dive into the origins of this poem in particular. It basically stems from a few objects. One is a poem I wrote a few months back called Seasons of Age, where I tell the poem as each stanza as a measure of time. I wanted to use that same motif to tell a story, in this case a love story. The thoughts of unrequited love and heartache, and even loneliness permeate a lot of my poetry because I think that's a way I deal with some of the personal demons I'm facing. The story in the poem today is a fictionalized version of things from my past, things that shaped some of my experience, and some complete artistic bullshit. You can decide what parts are real and what parts are not.

At any rate the poem is really telling s story of love through a series of chance meetings, what happens at each meeting, and how things wind up in the end. It's certainly not a poem that breaks any conventions in content, though I did think I broke some contextual contents, telling a much longer form poem that relays a story more than it relays an ideal. Maybe its a subtle difference, or maybe I'm just full of shit and waxing hypothetical. The bottom line is I wrote the poem and I hope you like it, or find something that you resonate with. Thanks for reading.


Every Passing Day


I met her once

When we were teens.

A schoolyard crush,

Had paved the scene.

Her dark red hair,

Dyed from brown,

With bluest eyes,

That upturned my frown.

I never did quite say,

The feelings hid inside,

Just bottled them up deep,

Wanting quite to cry.

She had her own sweet love,

Of whom I could not match,

So I pined away alone,

An itch I couldn't scratch.


I met her a second time,

Much years had passed us by,

Older now in life,

But how I wished to try.

We'd went our separate ways,

Unhappy years between,

Choices that we'd made,

Emotions turned obscene.

She'd found her true love,

But watched it turn so sour,

Divorced and deeply pained,

More alone with each hour.

A passing chance in hand,

Had brought her back to me,

But the moment wasn't right,

Her hurts to deep to see.


The third time I'd hoped,

Would be the fateful charm.

Months had ticked right by,

Since that wicked harm.

We talked and we chatted,

Throughout those many days,

Though never once did we meet,

As I whiled the hours away.

'Till that chance did come,

As the time fell right by,

When the moment came in close,

And I gave it one last try.

I asked her to meet with me,

Just two friends alone together,

And hoped my burning dream,

Could repel the trials it weathered.


The next time we did met,

Was that very night.

I took her hand in mine,

Finally pushing away the fright.

We laughed and we smiled,

Though I skirted the reason,

The things I wanted to say,

As my heart did threaten treason.

But as our meal drew shut,

The moment came so real,

I uttered those words I held close,

And finally told her how I did feel.

I poured out my soul,

The years of bottled remiss,

She took my hands in hers,

And sealed it with our first kiss.


I saw her everyday,

Creating this momentous life,

A love that we did share,

That of man and wife.

She filled my every hour,

Making up for those missed years.

As every passing day,

Gave way to newer cheers.

This life we so shared,

Intertwined in deepest love,

Happiness was never far away,

Shown down from up above.

It was worth all the wait,

This passion that did transcend.

I thought no price to high to pay,

To grow a love with no end.


The last time I saw my wife,

A bitterer day I'd not know,

This gathering of dearest friends,

Shared memories they did bestow.

Reflections of a joyous past,

Though I felt these salty frets,

They told those happy stories,

I knew only the regrets.

We never did grow old,

Or had the time we thought,

The years had just slipped away,

Opportunities now so fraught.

I said my goodbyes,

A last and cold farewell,

The flowers on her grave,

Me alone in this cold hell.



End of Line.
Gerrad!