Selections from Woe of the Wooer


"Never Seek to Tell Thy Love"

William Blake

Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind does move
silently, invisibly

I told my love, I told my love
I told her all my heart,
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears.
Ah, she doth depart!

Soon as she was gone from me
A traveller came by
Silently, invisibly
--He took her with a sigh.

When I'm Poor

When I'm poor
my ideas get fat
my appetite grows
ravenous desires
peculiar illusions
appear more likely
material poor becomes
balanced against
spiritual wealth
fat and desirous
hungry and delusional
I descend from my aerie
contrary and fussy
wondering out loud
why the crowd stays together
amassed as one
when I believe fragments
are more free

It's Time To Leave

What we have is something called pure confusion
& it leaves me at the end of your line
that place which knows something
I know not what
but I substitute for something less
than what my peculiar passions desire.

Was it my basic shortcoming that got so foggy that I thought
that I felt I could know what was basic about me about you
Who knows? Do you? How?
Well, I know because I can stand here naked
stark raving naked
and rave in front of all of you
who expect more when all I have is less
because no truth can be as pure
as that truth that
says what needs to be said
over and over again
I can say it
because I know where it comes from

How, my friends,
can I tell you that my lost soul
corrupted two hearts
so enraged, so engaged
so willing to be pure
so arrogantly sure
that love lost is one cure
my soul so lost
that nothing can tally the score
I cannot tie up my slippery ego
& claim that what we had
was ever clear ever dear
and full of what's called pure

Of course, now, it is time to leave you
but how can I pretend that such an exit exists
that such an exit helps me feel free
when my soul suffers such unholy pain
what's left is a heart
beating out pure pain and craziness.
Who is truly free
finally of me?

What Vision?

I looked for the truth
where it was supposed to be
but it wasn't there
it was supposed to be
but it wasn't
I mean I couldn't see it
I looked
I flooded the space with light
I couldn't see it
I just couldn't
I couldn't see it
My peculiar I kept getting in the way
that strange thing called me
just couldn't see
but wait
when it was dark
something moved
something stirred
but I can't talk about it
not anymore.
It's too much about me
and hardly fit for poetry.

From the Woman I Love

She wrote...
I thought I loved you
I learned my lesson
I hate you for it
You sure blasted my good will
and innocence out the door
I thought I loved you
I learned my lesson
I hate you for it
I wanted to prove that I wasn't spiteful
I thought I loved you
I learned my lesson
you sure screwed me
I hate you for it
I wish I could do something to get back at you
I thought I loved you
you sure screwed me
I hate you for it
you feebly promise
I hate you for it
you are the spineless pig I know you are
I hate you for it
I thought I loved you
I learned my lesson
you sure screwed me
I hate you for it
I took your money
when you offered it to me
you sure screwed me
I thought I loved you
the difference between you taking my money

I thought I loved you
I hate you for it
I learned my lesson
I hate you for it
I thought I loved you

One More Muse

Eight muses of mine have come and gone
each singing a special inspired song
but as I say each now forever gone

The first the youngest and the sweetest the second a bit wiser with clarity
the third love was a special type of beauty the fourth too special to designate
the fifth a wild loon in love's lake
the sixth was dark and without a face
the seventh led to my disgrace
the eighth too recent for me to know
but each brought love & certain sorrow.

I know nine muses did fancy Zeus create
I have loved from one to eight
and now I wait for number nine
due here on any date at any time
I do nothing but abstract invalid rhymes
which only distort clever poetic crimes
like ignoring family for fame
absorbing ridicule and shame
now I listen carefully
for some true news
about the proof of my fair muse

Woe of the Wooer

Published by Night Owl Press.
Salem, Massachusetts

Copyright © 1999 by Piet Cross.

Book Cover and Web Page Design by Jessie Numata.

Table of Contents

Poetry Index

CBA menu
Piet Cross Poetry- Woe of the Wooer
Published: May 3, 1999
Copyright © 1999 by the Cosmic Baseball Association