I CAN'T MARRY A POETESS

 

 I CAN'T MARRY A POETESS

I can't marry a poetess

As she's already married

To her pen

A more eloquent hubby

Than I can ever be

I can't marry a poetess

Who only gets ecstasy

From her bookish company

She'd chose her bookish-pen dance

Over my tender romance

I can't marry a poetess

Who will converse with her head

More often than she will talk to me

She will barely stroke my hair

Yet always play with her pen

I will be fed with jealousy 

And depression

For want of attention.

I can't marry a poetess

Whose tears will flow

 From three eyes

Two seen on her face

The third eye seen

On the tip of her inky tube

I can't marry a poetess

Her pen is a multipurpose tool

With which she can

Paint me a fool

Pierce my heart but shed no blood

Express inaudible affections

Shed inky crocodile tears

I can't marry a poetess

Who has a translator in her brain

With the fluid flowing in her vein

And the ink flowing in her pen

She can translate my whole life

Into letters in lines and stanzas

Scribbled on a sheet of paper

I can't marry a poetess

Who would look for rhymes

In my every clause or phrase

And rhythms in my heartfelt rants

#throwback

© Christian Chidozie Okoro