You, Cliché
You might as well be the man on the moon.
Once touching your face was quotidian.
When I tallied each day's pleasures,
you, in this room or that, counted too much
for me, I think. I stopped record keeping.
I'm pouring you out. Emptying the pot.
Like horses running in old photographs,
your images race by blurred, scant detail
emerges brightly enough to dazzle.
You might as well be the, as, like———
"I'm pouring you out."
***
"You might as well be the, as, like———" Ouch. *
I had to look up "quotidian" again, as it never seems to stick. It seems too majestic for its service.
Good use of the word.
Terrific first line, so distant. Love the blowsy tone of this. Kept thinking, "Yes, yes!" as I read.
I laughed.
*
Nice work, Nonnie.
your images race by blurred...man, I feel that.*
*. Nonnie. Well drawn verse. "Been there, done 'with' that"
"Like horses running in old photographs"
Fresh, not faded!
*
Second stanza says so much *
The horse photos make us use our memory to see memories. Great touch. *
Lovely. This is one I keep coming back to.
Enjoyed the read.
Well done.*
You've achieved a rare art form: dismissive poetry.
*