I found this one today in my song lyric file, but I can’t for the life of me figure out how I thought that this could be put to music. The following poem is a figment of my imagination and in no way relates to my personal life. It is pure fiction, but, with more than a bit of truth in it, I think! 

     Love is a cruel mistress indeed, and while we may worship at its altar, the deity we seek there, is merely as human as ourselves. And that is something that we seem to forget. More often than not, the one who is worshipped did not ask to be placed there…. 

Upon the pedestal

flesh and blood does stand.

But for the mortal man,

too hard to understand.

Human too, she be

and no less or more, than he.


     It is a little long, but I think you will like it, for it is the story of love in the extreme.

Enjoy your Tuesday everyone,



Will Someone Help Me Down? Please!


When she looked you,

in the eyes,

it was then, you realized,

there’s nothing to disguise,

you cannot tell her lies,

you feel exposed.

Then, while your soul’s laid bare,

you know she doesn’t care,

for in war and love,

all things are fair,

your senses she’ll not spare,

and then dispose.

Beyond the shell,

that is the man,

in the core, is where she’ll stand,

but, in not too long a span,

she’ll reveal to you her hand,

in truth and fact.

With open arms,

and wounds to heal,

once again your heart, she’ll steal,

set you back upon your heels,

and get your head to reel,

though not intact.

She will own you,

heart and soul,

you’ll give to her your gold,

and to the devil,

then be sold,

but, you’ll not care.

For when you’re laying,

in her arms,

you feel no hurt or harm,

just comfort, soft and warm,

 and heed not, the loud alarm,

or be prepared.

For, when the day she does decide,

to rob you of your pride,

and rip your very being,

from inside,

and of you, no more abide,

she’ll then discard.

When there’s no more left of you,

and she says that you are through,

then, to yourself,

you must be true,

for loves like hers are few,

though very hard.


You will ponder all your days,

and still be left amazed,

how everything about her,

draws your praise,

and you cannot change the way,

you love her so.

She was the first, she was the last,

and though to you she’s past,

but to her memory,

you hold fast,

so now, the die is cast,

you can’t let go.


Yes, the die is cast, you can’t let go,

you are branded, don’t you know,

by her love,

and the pain that grows,

emotions you can’t show,

your cross to bear.

No one else will fill her space,

so, there’s no point to race,

 and while all others,

 may share her face,

and everywhere you see a trace,

but she’s not there.


She’ll live inside your mind, for very long,

she’ll revisit with a song,

and you will wonder always,

what went wrong,

and the love you thought so strong,

was oh, so weak.

You rehearse, just what you’d say,

if she came back someday,

and how you would dismiss her,

on her way,

but, inside the words will stay,

those words, you could not speak.


 Jack Downing

June 2011






Copyright©  Jack Downing, aka Jake All rights reserved. Contents may not be disseminated in any manner without the expressed written consent of the author. JRD 9/18/12







About poemsandponderings

Hearth and Health are wonderful things and if you're without either such sorrow that brings So I cannot express enough thanks to my Lord and to my family and friends for the support you afford! ~Jack Downing~
This entry was posted in history, honesty, life, men, poet, song writer, torment, women and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

11 Responses to She

  1. tweetyb8o8 says:

    “She” seems so enigmatic! And doesn’t sound like a fictional character. Love it really, Jake!

  2. Beth Ann says:

    Hmmm…..enigmatic???? Women???? Doubtful.

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