Make your own free website on Tripod.com

Christopher King

shotgunlo@hotmail.com
Franklin Pierce College
FPC Box 850 College Road
Rindge, NH 03461
United States


Word from the Author

Hiya folks!  Yup, I suppose none of you expeceted to hear the sweet 
poet inside of me rather than the dark poet and comedian that you're 
all familiar with.  Well damnit, I have feelings too ya know!!!  
Umm...yeah...But seriously, all of these poems were written for 
people who I really cared about.  Most of them hate me now.  
Hmmm...Oh well.  So don't believe it kids, when a woman says she 
likes getting poems and such, don't believe because its not true, 
shes probably already cheating on ya behind your back.  At least, 
thats been my experience.  Call me a hopeless romantic, I suppose, or 
better yet, a hopeful romantic as I still haven't stopped looking and 
haven't started finding.  Maybe I was meant to be gay?  But then why 
are women so attractive and men not?  But then again, why do men make 
so much more sense than women?  I assume its like how many licks it 
takes to get to the tootsie roll center of a tootsie pop, the world 
may never know.  This first selection was written about a year ago or 
more.  I'd like to think I'd matured a little since then so please 
forgive the shallow attempts and symbolism and allusion.  Then again, 
if I wasn't proud of it, it wouldn't be here.  Don't forget that I 
don't have a guestbook other than my email account so please write me 
and let me know what you think.

"Nevermind the man with low self-esteem behind the curtain!" 
                                            -The Wizard of AUGH!

To Mine Goddess

For Mine Goddess was originally titled To Joanna.  Joanna was a 
beautiful girl with long brown hair and eyes so green they put the 
grass to shame.  She was tall and slender with the fairest of skin.  
As a poem I think this is somewhat lacking in style and content.  
However, the emotion I feel when I read this almost totally blinds me 
to what a bad poem this actually is.  It is a very accurate 
description of our relationship though.  We were two parallel lines 
destined never to meet until infinity comes.  She never thought I was 
a stalker, which I wasn't, but I always seemed to unnerve her (as I 
do most people).  In any case, on with the show:

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Unto you my darling
I do beseech thee.
For the Words I must proclaim
Do no Justice
Of my desire for you.
Your pedastel is 
Without compare,
For much higher than myself
Do I place Thee
O fairest Goddess!
For but Thine glance
Is more luscious to me
Then any Kiss given
By Helen or Dierdre.
Yet for every ounce of Pain
That ever you may feel
Wounds me greater than
The Poisoned Spear of Pisear
Coursing through every 
Fibre of my very being!
I know, mein Liebling,
That we are kindred spirits
Both sprung from that very
Irresistable Box of Pandora's folly.
Whereas I am the wretched person
Culminated from each and every
Abomination from that trove,
You,
O Mine Goddess,
You
Are the One and glorious Hope.
I do well realize, O Lady,
That to obtain
But a tiny fraction
Of Thine Attentions
For myself would be
An abrosia more satisfying
Than the Olympians could ever
Have cross their lips and tongues.
Any attempt for more
Than that One and tiny Drop,
My Dear,
Would be a perversion
Of Your Divinity.
Which is why, my Lady
I may love Thee
But only from afar.

The Dancer

OK, this is a poem I wrote on Valentines Day for my friend Mia.  By 
this point in my life I had screwed up my chances with her in a 
serious relationship, but we remained good friends.  Mia is a 
beautiful woman from the island of St. Thomas in the Carribean.  She 
has a great Jamerican accent too.  I wrote this for her because she 
is the one who taught me how to dance.  I'm still really bad (slow 
learner), but I don't fear dancing anymore thanks to her, only feel 
a mild dread.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Here I sit across the room
Watching on as you dance.
Just like a phantom,
You float on the floor.
Your body hypnotically moving
As a cobra ready to strike.
Perhaps it is this maneuver,
This and nothing more,
Yet I cannot help but feel
That there is substance to this-
This ghost,
Dancing,
Just across the room.


Presences have graced this page times. Thank you all.