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The Lonesome Loser (Free verse) by Dovina

He sips his coffee, writes a line, remembers the struggle, apprehends why. He’s read to dull ears, seen eyes turn away, from his poems about nothing; even he has misgiving. Ten years since an editor’s thank-you note; still he sips and still writes, skipping slick certitudes, untangling knots. He writes what he knows, and he knows a lot, but they don’t know, and they don’t care. He lifts his pen leans back and smiles— an insider’s trust: The right eyes will see. He scans the walls for someone who might, bends forward again— maybe tonight.

Dovina 10-Jul-06/5:55 AM
Yes, you'd like him. Very congenial and different. You're not a loser though, and not lonesome either, I'd say.




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