Poetic Friday

There is a big difference between writing a song and writing a poem. I'm sure most of you view my posts on here as poetry, but that's not even close. My songs have a melody, and in most cases need the music to survive. I used to write more poetry, and in an attempt to sharpen my songwriting skills I am going to force my poetic side with another weekly routine: Poetic Friday.

I am going to challenge myself to write a new poem for every Friday, or find an older one of mine to examine. Additional routines I am going to try to work my way into: "Monday's Mutterings of One," and "Live on Thursday."

Please enjoy my first entry to Poetic Friday, a brand new poem for your reading pleasure.

Opportunity

So whats the story, morning glory?
It is to you my mind now slides.
Evasive and elusive, my shady lady,
Still un-opening as she hides.

Perhaps once around the sun,
And her composure then will melt.
Afraid of the dark, but not the lions,
Assuming cards before they're dealt.

Spinning threads of gold to string,
Her life, not what she dreams;
May to the surface-watcher seem,
But only she deems what is seen.

A sincere pause, a thought collection,
And again her voice prevails.
The strength it takes to fortify
The vile beneath the veil.

The surreptitious "Yes, mmm hmm,"
And the ceremonious "Nope."
The ladder leaves a clue behind;
The knot begets the rope.

As all of this hangs in the air
Like a dandelion spore,
The mastery of her majesty
Paints a scene she's seen before.

The artisan in her repertoire
Regrets none by her own code,
Shows compliance to the universe
Despite the evidence bestowed.

That the consequential traits
Of the love she can't afford,
Still stops and screams the question,
"Where is my f*#$ing door?"