Poem 59: Dormant mountain

(The form chosen for this week is the ghazal)

The mountain lay dormant for years, and then the volcano lets rip.
This lady afraid hides her fears, and then the volcano lets rip.

The dude sits alone in the pub. He gapes at his glass half the night;
his mood is not what appears, and then the volcano lets rip.

At the meeting the chairman sits high in his chair like he owns the place;
the listeners tolerate his airs, and then the volcano lets rip.

My friend Uma stared at his screen month after bloody month;
a little he wrote; next he dares; and then the volcano lets rip.

A man is too scared to say how he feels to the woman he loves.
One night he tells her how he cares, and then the volcano lets rip.

The guys hang around and drink beers; the guys hang around and drink beers;
The guys hang around and drink beers; and then the volcano lets rip.

For sixty-eight years adventures have sat in a corner.
Bruce sears, tears, wears, jeers, glares, cheers, veers. Not once the volcano lets rip.

To hear the poem read aloud click HERE.

21 thoughts on “Poem 59: Dormant mountain

  1. arlingwoman

    I think you’ve probably had enough excitement without the volcano letting rip. Metaphorically of course. I just read recently that Mount St. Helen’s here in the US is apparently getting ready to let rip again…

    Liked by 4 people

  2. Yvonne

    Do I need to read a lot into your poem, or may I just sit back and enjoy it without fear of a volcano letting rip?

    (PS Thank you for the ghazal, you know I live only for that form.)

    Liked by 2 people

  3. umashankar

    Thanks for immortalising me in your Ghazal, Bruce. How bitingly true is your depiction of my inner turmoil! The upwelling did escape a bit on the very first day of the new year, and I am having second thoughts dumping all of it at my blog for fear of losing my gentler readers…

    A throbbing ghazal, as usual!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Bruce Goodman Post author

      I have discovered that “fear of readers” is the bane of my creativity. I don’t want to be awful, but readers seem to take control of my writing. It’s a frightening and mind-nullifying thing. Quite frankly, it’s something I don’t know what to do about. I still find myself giving “likes” to humpty-dumpty poets so as not to offend. And I won’t use any swear words, even though my characters might have, because it might be “offensive” to the reader. And P.S. – in all my 1200+stories, no one has ever had sex!!! So let’s blow up that mountain!



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