User:Lord Rumfish/Mending Blog


 * META-AUTHOR'S NOTE - I have preserved the formatting from MySpace for historical accuracy as much as I could. Normally I wouldn't, except I actually wrote this piece using that harrowing format, and it is thematically appropriate to keep it as such.  5/7/08

Mending Blog Current mood: absurd *AUTHOR'S NOTE* This is a parody of "Mending Wall" by Robert Frost. Go Google it if you aren't familiar with that one... he's certainly a better poet than I.  Then come back and read mine if you're the sort of person who would bother. ^_^ Something there is that doesn't love a blog, That sends the frosty eye-roll over it, And casts the catchy titles as no fun, And leaves gaps even two can mock in jest. The work of spellchecks is another thing: I have come after them and made repair Where they have left not one "to" as a "too," But they would have the ranting out of hiding, To tease the whelps with blogs. The gaps I mean, No one has felt them or read between the lines, But at friendship mending-time we find them there. I let my buddy know beyond the ill; And on a day we meet to say we're fine And set the wall between us once again. We keep the posts between us as we go. To each the comments that have fallen to each. And some are nice, and some so flatly stall We have to use a spell to keep our patience: "Stay where you are until my heart's returned!" We wear our wristbones rough with typing them. Oh, just another kind of waiting game, One on a side. It comes to little more: There where it is we do not need the blog: She is "just fine" and I am "emo" brooding. My "emo" rants will never get across And eat the joy within her eyes, I tell her. She only says, "Not now, try someday later." Love is the mischief in me, and I wonder If I could put a notion in her head: "Why make it someday later? Isn't it Where there is pain? But here there is no pain. Before I built a wall, I'd ask to know What I was shutting in or shutting out, And to whom I was like to give offence. Something there is that doesn't love a blog, That wants it down." I could say 'Elves' to her, But she's not elven-sprightly, and I'd rather She just be herself. I see her there Bringing resolve grasped firmly by the top In each hand, like a tutting grandma armed. She moves in darkness as it seems to me Not of hearts only and mistakes to leave. She will not go behind her mother's saying, And so afraid (for once before, she fell) She says again, "Not now, try someday later." Mark Burton Sunday, February 4th, 2007, 7:01 A.M.