There–At The Wheel

There–at the wheel of the car that sat behind me,

It isn’t so much what I could here, but more of what I could see.

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Hands were thrashing back and forth waving to and fro,

Your anger I could feel, I didn’t have to know.

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Showing teeth, your lips were curled like a rabid dog,

You seemed to be unaware as if enveloped in fog.

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No, I cannot read ones lips though I surely sensed your rage,

Your act was more attuned to an actor taking stage.

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I can only imagine what you said, “I can’t believe you cheated”,

Words been said a million times and millions more repeated.

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Awkward silence is my guess on the other end of the line,

She probably ignored “Working late” and other telltale signs.

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Placing blame is not my point as love is based on trust,

One her partner clearly breached is my only thrust.

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Though I could not hear her call I felt her silent pain,

My story of the jilted spouse driving the right-hand lane.

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~~ Dominic R. DIFrancesco ~~

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We Drink Because We’re Poets — Poetry Prompt #5 – The Ear

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AUTHOR’S NOTE:  I took some liberties with this prompt as I don’t often pay attention to others conversations, probably because my hearing is not all that great.  Instead I used an incident that I saw as I was driving back to my office from a job about 3 weeks ago.  There was a woman in the car behind me (driving), angrily waving her arms and clearly screaming into her cell phone.  I used my imagination to come up with the story behind her her obvious rage.

It Grows Dark in a Firestorm of Tumultuous Passion (Sonnet)

It grows dark in a firestorm of tumultuous passion

Thoughts of you under another’s caress

Fighting to keep you in any fashion

Its you, by any means I must possess

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You promised eternal love before family and friends

I do, sealed with a kiss we were wed

Our vows for you clearly were a means to an end

By the folly you’ve made of our bed

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Is not the sanctity of marriage to be held sacred

Clearly not by your monogamous charade

You’ve done nothing more than fertilize a hatred

Flaunting your sins as if on parade

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With this to my senses I have finally arrived

At the realization–what I thought was love was really contrived

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~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~