LOVE OF AN OWL

You have such a talent!
A talent?
A talent for what?
Anyone can ramble away
in bitter words,
but that’s not a talent,
it ain’t special.
It takes more
than a sarcastic comment
to be a poet
and
I’m just a blabbering owl,
who saw a chance.
I told
way too many men
that I love them –
they never questioned how much,
so I just shushed
about the quantity
and fingered
words in sand
of a pure lie –
“I love you”.
They ran to me,
led by an instinct,
like little kids run to their mother
in need of reassurance
and
indescribable momentum,
except the fact
that
they weren’t children
and I had no intentions
of directing them
away.
Those stories ended
before they even could begin
and I never cared enough
to explain
why
I never bought them
Christmas presents.
There is no such thing as Santa
and no such thing
as the love of an owl.
Judge me tomorrow,
today we are still pretending
to be happy.

– Chatty Owl –

Advertisements

52 thoughts on “LOVE OF AN OWL

  1. Salty Frosting says:

    The talent isn’t writing “I love you”, certainly an easy task that automatically evokes rainbows and lollipops … The talent is to write “I love you” in a bitter context and to back it up. The blabbering owl recognizes and appreciates her tools of her trade. Then to end with some fake hope, that’s the stuff talented poets are made of… As long as we are pretending, you can accept compliment whole heartedly πŸ™‚

  2. wambliokiye says:

    It is not your talent that is interesting, there are so many talented people. It is what you try to crack up from your inside that is interesting. And the fact, you don’t even know what it is yourself, fumbling about to get it, gives it all a merry spice. πŸ˜‰

  3. sys.halt.herald says:

    These raw impressions of men and love, may prove to be of interest, as worthy warnings, jade trophies exulted by some, but they will not be permitted a spot at this side unguarded, to suck warmth from this bed, and marrow from these bones.

    Actually, for it’s bare, dermal-peeled ‘truth’ of inner workings, that run is more an artful stroke of talent, than anything ever penned here.
    Perhaps, fresh experience helps it a bit, or maybe it’s just the inclination to glean pain, pleasure, spark or void from a quick stitch in perspective, regardless of the more collectively-synched objective subject in view.

    What would you run to? Boldness, illusions, like privacy, unknowns, mystery and security held with pat secrecy – such a state hardly seems to favor much motion, but it’s a little difficult to ascertain whether it should without it.

  4. lignumdraco says:

    My dear Owl,

    I have had the pleasure to read this several times over the course of today. However, it is definitely more pleasurable reading you after work is done. I have to designate a specific time to be the “bewitching hour”.

    Once again, I am moved by your writings and talent. You had me at umm, hello? πŸ™‚

    “I gave you a taste of myself and made you crawl for more”. Yes.

  5. J.R.Taylor says:

    Wow…this is a fantastic moving piece. I can feel the emotion resonating through it with so much power!
    “They ran to me, led by an instinct, like little kids run to their mother
    in need of reassurance and indescribable momentum, except the fact
    that they weren’t children and I had no intentions of directing them
    away.” That’s my favorite part. It is so true. Men always come to women expecting to be coddled.
    You are a wonderful poet! Keep up the amazing work!

    • Chatty Owl says:

      You should know, that appreciation of others and kind words like yours are my biggest motivation to not give up writing. And I had doubts way too many times… So biggest thank you!

    • J.R.Taylor says:

      Not a problem! You are fantastic and I know those same feelings. Seeing people respond to my work makes me want to jump and cheer for joy. And I have you to thank for that! You were one of the first people to comment on my posts. So thank you!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s