Wednesday, August 1, 2018




Oh god - I can’t forget her eyes!

I’ve almost forgotten her hair.

Was she a golden, sunshine blonde?

Was she a radiant, exotic brunette?

I’m starting to forget her smile.

Did the corners of her ruby mouth crinkle up?

Did her teeth sparkle with a dazzling, pearly white?

I’ve totally forgotten her voice.

Was it a deep, sensuous, sultry and throaty bass?

Was it a high, little-girlish, sweet and tender soprano?

But I can’t forget her eyes!

Those hypnotic, soul-penetrating, deep brown orbs

that held me captive in a weak, helpless, trembling trance,

and paralyzed my throbbing, hungry brain!

I have ejected her image from my life,

and am forgetting the details of her beauty;

but, oh god; I can’t forget her eyes!


A shaky piece of something

I vaguely call “tomorrow”

has landed at my feet

without a noise

and without an effort,

while summer birdsong

continues to chime and chirp

through the warm air,

wrapping around the trees,

with their verdant leaves

waving at the world,

while the sun keeps

casting its yellow rays

of pagan radiance

around my pounding head

as though nothing

has been altered…

nothing has changed.

But the truth screams and howls

at me like a rabid wolf,

for a trembling piece of something

I dared to call “tomorrow”

has crashed to the ground

and landed at my feet

with nothing but a sigh

and a soft whimper,

unheard by an indifferent world

shining and singing

all around me,

as though “tomorrow”

were still a hopeful dream.


The large black crow caws out his harsh,

croaking signal into the chill morning sky,

echoing through the foggy air, and startling

me awake, seconds before the shrill, pulsing shriek

of the hated alarm clock blasts out its ever-efficient,

obscene screech into my hazy, disoriented head,

and obliging me to reach out a half-numbed,

vibrating, achy hand; flopping it down on the

cold, indifferent, plastic enemy, with its glaring

red letters shouting visually into my blurry, puffy eyes;

wrenching me out of my personal, subconscious

paradise, and shoving me rudely and abruptly into

the cold, sharp, hard-edged world of reality.

The dawn has broken; the new day has begun,

and my heart has resumed its usual routine

of aching, craving, burning desire for “her”.

Once again, my mind starts to sizzle, and my chest

starts to squeeze, as all my thoughts fly to her;

filling my fiery head with agonizing loneliness:

“Good morning, whipped weakling and welcome to

another day of icy, sterile indifference from the woman

who once looked at you with a love so intense,

it melted your very soul and sent you soaring

to the moon with pure, passionate, ecstatic joy!

Good morning, obsessed fool… Welcome to Now!”


KENNETH NORMAN COOK is an American, born in the United States and raised in California in the 1960s. (English is his native language.) It was there in Southern California, in grade school that he began to fall in love with words, through a sixth grade English assignment to write a poem about Halloween. His entry was selected to be published in the school newsletter and that started him on a lifetime sojourn through the creative world known as poetry. After living away for many years, Kenneth is back in California, where he continues to write daily. He is a regular contributor to several magazines, including Wildfire Publications Monthly Magazine, where he is a co-contributor for a section on tips for writers. He has been featured in numerous poetry anthologies and has released a newly revised edition of his poetry collection, Shadow Walk With Me. He is also the author of a second book, This Side of Nothing, a third: a collection of haiku and senryu poetry, titled Theater of the Absurd, and a fourth: From Dark Corners and Dusty attics, which is a combination of older poems, both previously published, as well as published for the first time. Kenneth has a fifth book, featuring erotic poetry and limericks, due to be published this coming summer (2018).

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