Counting the Regrets in Pentameter

As I hold you and feel the soft beats of
your heart and watch the slow rise of your chest
I remember how you first came to me
and offered a cup of coffee as if
it could take away the isolation
and despair that permeated my life.

What caught my curiosity in those
briefs moments between you handing me the
cup and my turning to wander away
from the vapid gathering of people
I despised and places I detested
was that your only comment was, "Coffee?"

And then you smiled quietly and left,
letting me be alone while you showed your
affection and dedication to my happiness
and I knew then that we must spend much more
time together, away from the mewing
crowds and their incipient blathering.

Then, as I patiently waited for you,
I knew this would be a glorious night,
a night I would hold as a rare touchstone
that would blaze through this weary world and be
a metaphor defining everything
in your life, in my life, in forever.

And the look in your eyes when you saw me
was a priceless joke on all the pompous,
self-assured cretins who had tried to catch
your eye and attention throughout the night,
not realizing that it was destiny
that had brought us together this evening.

To be fair, I did not know you could scream
so loud and I am sorry for the bruise
on your cheek but I will kiss it lightly
after I tie you down and before I
carefully trace passion into you skin
until your screams fill my desolate heart.

About This Poem

Last Few Words: This is, as the title suggests, pentameter and is a play on the concept of passion poetry. It is not, of course, autobiographical. I wanted to write a longer piece with more room for building the world while deliberately setting an ambiguous tone that felt inevitable and uncomfortable and, ultimately, cast the entire thing in a different light so that, hopefully, the reader would want to review and see how words and phrases taken one way had a different intent.

Style/Type: Structured: Western

Review Request Direction: What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?

Review Request Intensity: I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Region, Country: Jacksonville area, FL, USA, USA

Favorite Poets: Keats

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Comments

I haven't seen any..

Of your work in awhile and for this one to be the first, just blew my mind!
I liked everything about it! Gee

Jonathan

Loved to see your writes again, and how you achieve the perfection of verse.
We need a teacher such as you, here on a critique basis where we have set tasks to do.
Being asked to run a workshop would tie your qualities up to much better that you freelance as and when you can.
Question you said this is Pentameter in its form, so the second line of this piece goes:-
"your heart and watch the slow rise of your chest" is it me or does the two words "rise of" go against the flow of the Pentameter..
Take care out there and hope to see more of your teachings here,
Yours Ian.T

Thank you for the comments

Ian,

While I prefer writing in strict syllable count, I do not adhere to foot requirements because I prefer poetry to be conversational in presentation.

Thus, an argument can be made i am not writing in meter at all, but I use tetra and penta meter as a shortcut to describe the structure. This way I am breaking rules I know exist and I feel that gives a more deliberate direction to the work.

Jonathan

Thanks for your reply and glad to see that you have bendy rules lol,
Take care out there Yours Ian.T

One doubt

This is a brilliant poem but it leaves me with one doubt in my mind. If, as I understand, the last stanza implies that some kind of sadistic murder is about to take place, is this subject too distressing for poetry? I was reminded of the time when I watched a terrifying performance of Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus, in which various kinds of torture were portrayed on stage. I came away feeling sick and depressed and sensing that poetry wasn't really meant to take people though such a harsh experience. I felt similarly disturbed after reading this poem, though I realize that may be because I'm an over-sensitive reader.
Best wishes,
Robert.

Thanks for the notes

Robert, I want to sincerely thank you for taking time to review and offer your commentary and while I appreciate your position, I believe we are in disagreement.

Poetry, for me, is about story telling and truth and, at times, the truth is unsettling.

But, luckily, what defines poetry for me is not the only definition and there is room enough for each of us to have our preferences.

Thanks again for taking the time to review and comment and offer an honest critique. It is what a workshop is about and if we can't stand a little challenge, why would we ever write?

I respect you as a poet

and this comment is not just about this poem.
I wish you could just once submit a poem without an extensive "Last few words: "
Let your poems stand on their own. Your most recent one was one of your best. Like me you have a clinical mind, that you need to let go to let your poetry run free.