Kiss Me
As If It Were the Last Time
by Jo Barbara Taylor
Though Juliet loved Romeo,
her heart's hope vanished with the dew
and the dawn lark sang go, go, go
hurry before the sky turns blue.
Hours and fate waylaid her hallowed vow
to remain one of two, ever true.
Hopeless, the brief romance that hovers
over storied, star-crossed lovers.
Ilsa dropped into Rick's Café,
and Sam sang the love song of Paris again.
In one brief moment, she was larked away—
you must remember this—along the Seine
where she walked with Rick day after day.
Ilsa left with longing she could not contain.
Futile, the sad romance that hovers
over tales of star-crossed lovers.
In Rome a princess fell in with a hack
while on holiday from the duty of a royal daughter.
She rode his Vespa, carried clothes in a sack,
danced like a filly slipping her halter.
When the lark flew at sunrise, fetched her back,
she whispered I leave you, though she faltered.
Gone, the promise of romance that hovers
over stories of star-crossed lovers.
Bio: Jo Barbara Taylor lives outside of Raleigh, North Carolina, grew up in Indiana, and remains an Indiana farm girl at heart. She taught English in public school for 21 years. Her poems and academic writing have appeared in journals, Including Tipton Poetry Journal and Inwood Indiana, magazines and anthologies. She leads poetry workshops for the North Carolina Poetry Society and OLLI through Duke Continuing Education. She has published four chapbooks, the most recent, High Ground by Main Street Rag, 2013.
by Jo Barbara Taylor
Though Juliet loved Romeo,
her heart's hope vanished with the dew
and the dawn lark sang go, go, go
hurry before the sky turns blue.
Hours and fate waylaid her hallowed vow
to remain one of two, ever true.
Hopeless, the brief romance that hovers
over storied, star-crossed lovers.
Ilsa dropped into Rick's Café,
and Sam sang the love song of Paris again.
In one brief moment, she was larked away—
you must remember this—along the Seine
where she walked with Rick day after day.
Ilsa left with longing she could not contain.
Futile, the sad romance that hovers
over tales of star-crossed lovers.
In Rome a princess fell in with a hack
while on holiday from the duty of a royal daughter.
She rode his Vespa, carried clothes in a sack,
danced like a filly slipping her halter.
When the lark flew at sunrise, fetched her back,
she whispered I leave you, though she faltered.
Gone, the promise of romance that hovers
over stories of star-crossed lovers.
Bio: Jo Barbara Taylor lives outside of Raleigh, North Carolina, grew up in Indiana, and remains an Indiana farm girl at heart. She taught English in public school for 21 years. Her poems and academic writing have appeared in journals, Including Tipton Poetry Journal and Inwood Indiana, magazines and anthologies. She leads poetry workshops for the North Carolina Poetry Society and OLLI through Duke Continuing Education. She has published four chapbooks, the most recent, High Ground by Main Street Rag, 2013.