absur-ditty (the second)

Being single is no crime
’cept maybe all your poems rhyme
’cause you want each word to have a pair

You see, when the Maker’s Creation was through
All the best ingredients went into you
There were none left to make a fitting spare

absur-ditty

I gave him my dil.
In an old mahogany frame
He kept on his window sill

Till it was consumed by a flame
For which his wife’s shrill
Tortured voice was to blame.

Ode to an Ugly Boy

Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
When an Ugly Boy breaks his sister’s toy
When an Ugly Boy brings gloom to joy
When an Ugly Boy can’t gracefully dance
When an Ugly Boy has the loser’s stance
Is there someone there to give him another chance
Is there someone there to read his lonely glance
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
When an Ugly Boy is neither fat nor thin
When an Ugly Boy dribbles down his chin
When an Ugly Boy kicks his best friend’s shin
When an Ugly Boy makes his Momma’s head spin
Is there someone there who finds him cute
Is there someone there who doesn’t think he’s a brute
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
When an Ugly Boy learns to lie and steal
When an Ugly Boy starts to double deal
When an Ugly Boy stands up and fights
When an Ugly Boy asserts his rights
Is there someone there who sees a hero in him
Is there someone there who hears his cry within
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
When an Ugly Boy plucks his heart from the dust
When an Ugly Boy loses faith in trust
When an Ugly Boy does it all for love
When and Ugly Boy braves it all for love
When an Ugly Boy bows his head in shame
When an Ugly Boy breaks the rules of the game
When an Ugly Boy is neither meek nor commanding
When an Ugly Boy is the last one standing
Is there someone there who sheds a tear for him
Is there someone there to raise a cheer for him
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy
Can somebody love an Ugly Boy

Pablo Neruda...does things to me

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,

and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.

I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.

And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.

The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.

My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.

My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.

We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.

My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once belonged to my kisses.

Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.

Love is so short and oblivion so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,

my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,

and this may be the last poem I write for her.

Pablo Neruda