Of Joy

by: Jan Briane Astom

             ---> to his former lover

Where trees they reside,

By this old wooden bunk

Also lives my memories with Joy…

Beyond the trees sunk,

And that foul-smelling skunk,

Here lives my memories with Joy…

For every cajoling,

And mere shallow jesting,

I can hear the laughter of Joy…

For every sweet pickle,

Or a little wee tickle,

Resounds the sweet giggles of Joy…

For every wrist broken,

And times that she’s fallen,

I hear the queer sobbing of Joy…

For those bitter ryes,

Or those sad,

Sad goodbyes,

I cry by the moments with Joy…

For that last goodbye,

Was deemed just a lie,

Or so thought the gladness of Joy…

For then she’s consterning,

Of my hopeful returning,

To the trees and my memories with Joy…

For I never returned,

To the love that I spurned,

Though my heart be with Joy, I allude…

Them memories she burned,

By the moment she learned,

I’ve left this cruel world for good!

But then….

Stays my memories…

(I wrote this during a Press Conference about 4 years ago. It's weird how I could write something as miserable about love when I was supposed to be madly in love. It seems this poem was ahead of its time--a foreboding of what is to happen; an indicator that the relationship was not really meant to last forever...)