there's a guy who talks about people behind their back.
friends of ours, people we both know. End always ends
with "I love him, but" or her, but I know - he loves me,
And he talks about me behind my back. I don't know what
I think of him or it. This realizations is too fresh
into the general high opinion I have or had, on this
flamboyantly heterosexual dad, nattily attired to within
an inch of his deep booming voice, upstandingly loyal
and overall good guy, tolerant and accepting or so I
Before I heard him say that about Kelly. And suddenly
realized I'd heard him give the same sorts
of lowdown scoops on many friends,
many times before.
He talks about me.
Behind my back.
It seems almost beyond question that this means war.
A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years. Try the RANDOM button to sample the sometimes surprising breadth of quality (and in several Novembers, breathtaking quantity as well), or click the "ANY GOOD" label* for those poems labeled with it. On any poem, old or new, feel free to offer your remarkable insight or critical acumen.
*I haven't yet revisited many pockets and stretches of time to appraise and label the "any goods," so some are missing. Please feel free to point out omissions, or - especially - erroneous inclusions, in comments.