Online dating, what a trip,
in the Arctic I’d rather strip.
It’s a place without written rules.
And the poet’s craft bears no jewels.
A sea of faces afloat on a screen,
choices made virtually unseen.
Definitions there have little meaning,
optimistic opinions largely leaning.
While kisses await when on track,
misplaced words lead to a smack.
The high and lows beyond compare,
all’s to expose if you dare.
Much can be learned about ourselves,
surprises abound when one delves.
While at this stage of life options few,
reality’s virtue’s now less true.
Fates may collide with a single click,
or hopes shattered just as quick.
Now looking forward and thinking back,
my head types with a clack.
There once an old dude,
who was quite crude,
the town folk thought him rude.
After many a year in love he fell,
his flame however said “go to hell”.
His desires she’d never quell.
A stormy winter slowly passed by.
Accustomed to rejection, the dude wasn’t shy.
And persistent he was to always ask why.
The spring finally came,
his flame stayed the same,
himself the dude thought to blame.
The summer surely hot,
the dude surely not,
his cool long since shot.
Autumn’s bluster in the air,
his flame did flicker, he did flare.
The time had tempered each with care.
With a Christmas snow soon to arrive,
fire and ice made water to dive.
His flame’s heart thawed and their love did thrive.
With each day we do learn,
life is more than we yearn.
Responsibilities never end,
more to share and to lend.
We give and take for others sake,
returns in kind for us to make.
Care is given when received.
Truth abounds when not deceived.
Time propels, weights constrain,
with each second the past we gain.
Hearts and minds of equal measure,
balance stacked for us to treasure.
Skies brighten and again to dim.
Stars don’t shine on a whim.
Thinking love, feeling wise,
tomorrow’s I hear are before our eyes.
After years and years of ups and downs,
when value of self’s been pennies on the pound,
love’s been vaulted and disappeared,
old friends lost and new to be found.
The body waivers and minds forget.
Wisdom comes and goes in equal ration.
Time’s rushed but waiting improves.
And all’s well when life has passion.
A poet doomed I’ve started believe’n.
The odds it seems much better than even.
T’was born on an even day, month and year.
And I’m a Libra to boot, if you care.
An INFP, I think that means I feel stuff.
And if that alone wasn’t enough,
I’m fair of skin, odd of weight and six feet even.
A poet doomed and my name’s even Steven.
I must be hell bent for pain,
am I a fool or just insane?
My head’s in the clouds, hearts on my sleeve.
A feeling love I feel will relieve.
What an idiot I must be,
thinking love will set me free.
Past love’s brought happiness and hurt.
The last threw me to the dirt.
What kind of jerk am I?
After weeks and weeks wishing to die,
I remain hell bent for the pain.
What’s a little agony when heavens to gain?
With these strings, I thee bled,
fingers raw and eyes red.
Sounds of the day fill my head.
Emotion speaks with words unsaid.
With six strings I am fed.
Good vibration is my med.
Tension’s tuned and compression shed.
Harmony pledged. To honor bred.
With my strings I have wed.
Our ties bound by common thread.
Sweet melodies or what’s instead?
I’ll have and hold till I’m dead.