when a woman said, "Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow."

And he answered:

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."

But I say unto you, they are inseparable.

Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.

Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.

When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

Khalil Gibran

Oh dear.

Khalil Gibran.

Highly appropriate, of course, since his work output (it is unrealistic to call it poetry) is the literary equivalent of the cheap suit that started this thread.

Cheap emotions held together by cheap verbal stitching. It only fits in the places where it touches.

When you hold it up to the light, it is easy to see the slipshod workmanship, the pinstripes not quite aligned on the shoulder, the sleeve buttons lacking their corresponding buttonholes.

Tacky.

But apposite.

Dear Pericles,

"I was dancing with my darlin' to the Tennessee Waltz
When an old friend I happened to see
Introduced him to my loved one and while they were dancin'
My friend stole my sweetheart from me..."

He wasn't wearing a cheap suit.

Pericles

Your comment on ASymeonakis' poem and the accompanying slur was uncalled for.

I guess it was.

>>Pericles Your comment on ASymeonakis' poem and the accompanying slur was uncalled for.<<

But there's something about fake, exploitative emotion-mongering that makes my flesh crawl. Reminds me of the worst aspects of the 60's hippie generation, where preying upon the emotional vulnerabilities of others became an international pastime.

Recently I read T C Boyle's "Drop City", that brought it all back.

So I apologize if it has caused offence. But it is, after all, only an opinion.

“Pericles

Your comment on ASymeonakis' poem and the accompanying slur was uncalled for.”

Watch out Pericles, you are being admonished by the committee for public safety (sorry Robespierre) and thought police (self appointed).


The next thing you know you will be given your “P” plates (branded a psychopath)

and whined about along every corridor of OLO


but if we are doing poetry:


There was a young girl from Thrace

Whose corset just would not lace

Her mother said “Nelly,

There is more in your belly”

Than ever went in through your face.


The alternative was about a young man from Kent but I think that would be pushing the “limits” too far…