Check This One Out… The First Of Many….

As introduction to this poem I have to say it is a very old poem. Perhaps produced in the late sixties or early seventies. Prior to 1975 at least. So here goes, it is one of those found today.

 

A Composition of Loving Hope

 

Why is love so unfair?

It seems so strong

Then fades to indifference

And eventually disappears.

 

For years it grows,

And then blooms

Bright and fair;

Then it dies.

 

Passion takes a hold

Then it changes,

Ebbs away,

Replaced by true love.

 

Love an mystery,

An inept sort

Of curiosity

That welds us together.

 

A wish, a hope,

Strong and bold

Unafraid of disgrace;

That lingers on.

 

Incomparable in its depth,

Its unpredictability,

Its sweetness,

And its cruelty.

 

A beautiful commitment

Of naïve trust,

Sweet and forgiving.

To someone else.

 

A dream of happiness

Finally come true,

But then all illusions

Are suddenly dispelled.

 

Left lonely and forlorn;

No one to turn to,

No one to tell,

No way to share the pain.

 

Still feeling,

Still wanting,

Still needing,

But afraid to ask.

 

Trying to forget

And only remembering.

Hunting a balm,

But there is no contentment.

 

Wishing to be free;

Yet, retreating once again.

Almost outside, free;

Now, going back in.

 

Dreams in the night

Come to haunt;

Remembrances of moments

Light-hearted and happy.

 

Love, so strange

A luring tempter

Which runs away

Not caring about the pain.

 

Forever returning

To welcoming arms,

No matter the hurt,

Try again.

 

Yet, once more

The disappointment returns,

Happiness does not last,

Not with love.

 

Knowing the outcome,

Why go on searching?

It probably is not real,

Or can not be found.

 

Ah, but without hope

Why go on living?

It must be real;

Others are content.

 

Try again,

Fall down,

Contemplate,

Do it once more.

 

Perhaps, if continued

As a broader search,

Desire will be fulfilled

In a lasting love.

 

No giving up,

Not now, it is too late.

Forget the drawbacks

And continue on.

 

It can get worse

Before it gets better,

But it is darkest

Just before the dawn.

 

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

 

This happens to be one of a group of my earliest poems that was retrieved today. I hope you will enjoy the celebration I will have on the blog in coming days.

 

I intend to post a few more of the oldest poems. This is the first. It is long, but I love that I got it back in a computer again and now onto this blog. The current poem seems very appropriate for where I am in my life right now. It seems timeless to me. Maybe it should be one of a group I attempt to publish. What is your opinion? Please make a comment below.

 

Thank you for reading today!

 

TTYL,

Jo Ann