Once again I was fooled. I thought we were starting the writing of the novella in class this week, but really we’re writing an outline. I know it’s for the best, but I really want to write! So I expended some of my enthusiasm into the making of this poem.
You discover it–
and find that you want it.
Just a little bit–
You just want a permit–
A key– to that postponed pleasure.
You want to be free– to enjoy at your leisure.
But though you see– that coveted treasure,
Your plea– is ignored to your displeasure.
You don’t understand–
The base behind your being banned.
You curse your constraining command.
You have it all planned–
Yet time and again you’re restricted.
You believe that you’re afflicted,
Your wants seem constricted,
And your feelings feel conflicted.
You think release is coming,
But really they were just bluffing.
Huffing you return to your nothing,
And wait filled with wanting.
Your desperate pleas are ignored.
You even say ‘please’ but you’re floored.
You don’t want to rest bored,
But they wrest away what you’ve got stored.
Then suddenly the gem is thrust upon you,
Without clew, clue or a peek-a-boo.
You look– hunt– not believing it’s true,
But there the truth is staring at you.
Then you find your faith undiminished,
Your goal is finally accomplished.
You feel like your life is finished,
And waiting did not make the joy diminish.
You find you have increased zest.
That you were really actually blessed.
You see that you were wrongly distressed,
And that postponed pleasure was really best.
Just– count the lines.