When You Cry

It's reprehensible, this sudden spate
Of weeping, unaccountably a flood,
Leaving one feeling like a wad of mud
Tossed like a raw fish on a dinner plate.
Was it one year together? Thirty-eight?
What does it matter? Nip it in the bud,
Don't let it filter down into your blood
Where passion digs too deeply. Innovate:

Try wrestling with the demons, maybe try
Dismissing optimism from the room,
Think only of the body in the tomb
And moss reaching our lips. (Did you ask why?
For Beauty.) Stop this bawling. When you cry
The tears soak through the wool on Fortune's loom.

Apology for Snark

I made some disingenuous remarks
About your best friend, and your neighbourhood,
Last night. In fact, your friends are pretty good,
And though the constant sounds of meows and barks
Is not to my taste (I prefer the larks,
And tuneful songs of plucking in the wood),
Some people love it. As they damn well should.
At least you don't have hedgehogs and aardvarks.

I have disparaged, but I'll mend my ways,
I'll try to speak as sweetly as I can
Without becoming sweet. I am a man
Of many words, not few, and all my days
I have intended that goodness should blaze
In every thought expressed. So that's my plan.