bitter cup

She stays in a small town

Near the river Danube

Living on dainty food

She’d like to live alone

Be sweetly independent

But at times she’ll be glad

For a spouse, she should

Appreciate –

Not order around.


He stays in a tiny kitchen

Where he writes and paints

While she uses the bedsitter

Conducting her idle living.

He’ll be glad to work alone

And have peace to reflect

And write.


She’ll scream at times

Reign in his cynical remarks

That shake her elfin body

She interrupts him often

Brewing coffee plunger style.


He’ll meet a deadline for

A novel writing month

About an artist in a fight

For life and death for his

Great canvas.

And even if she mocks his

Efforts to write

He prevails

His sole freedom nobody

Can ever fence in or state

As being a silly game.

In the end this sad life

Will go on bearing bitter

Fruit: For her a piecemeal

Strip of looks and health

For him the bitter cup

Shaped by his poetry.




One thought on “bitter cup

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