You need to move on,
she needs to realise,
tomorrow’s a new day,
plenty of crabs on the beach,
this one’s scuttling away
Start searching, not thinking
what might have been
but of course, wouldn’t listen,
tried to lighten the mood
after doing the deed
A waste of time, complete,
who wants a better rejection?
so doomed to failure, but
stupidity persists,
like a child’s unending question…
Tennis for two, seemed
such a sensible choice,
civilised sport, showing
lovers can be friends, but truth
a different shade to intention
Tennis, solo, a last resort
to save the day, badly thought,
because for two, the net
is a barrier
between you and stupidity,
On your own, it’s an obstacle,
to catch unawares, all going well
until, as flying across,
catching my shot
, caught by my toes
Landing flat on my pouch, pain,
like you wouldn’t believe
left my lungs, as if someone else
in an airless scream, not the look
was wanting, not faintly amusing…
But the strangest thing, as if
slipped back in time, the girl
now a beauty, laughing, without a care,
and, as my pain prolonged
so, seemingly, did her joy
So the moral maths, dear chaps,
plain to see, don’t try to placate
don’t try to ease
the pain of rejection
should be what it is
A girl has to realise, a man’s world
first, suffer their pain for days,
weeks, months, even years
better that, than an ice pack
On a wounded pride
If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!
Paul Horne 