Relationships of Love and Hate: An Approach to Understanding with Sensitivity and Anger

By ET Resder

Bring your sense of humor, or what is left of it inside.
Artful expressions of anger and hate never had a chance to reach the popularity they might deserve. Boring love poems have their place, but they are usually a waste of time. This collection is meant to put anger and hatred up against the love we could talk about. Humor and excessive dysfunction are herein mixed with some relentless and sappy love poems. Sappy like you could hold them over pancakes, or maybe glue some boards together. The verses of humor and despair are a chance to balance your ordinary disappointment with disasters. A lot of these works can make you realize you are not crazy, or maybe everything that's bad in a relationship could be your fault, and you are crazy. Some of the words and ideas might be like an early warning system.
There is no way you could see yourself in all of the works inside, but maybe some of your friends are here. The main subjects can be very individual, but all of us have either lived many pieces of them, or know people that have had, or gone through the same things.
I hope this book makes you learn and laugh and maybe remember that one time you cried because of that one thing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483544588

Book preview

The Passionate Cello

If given one chance at what I want to be,

I would be the cello against your knee.

My taught neck fret-less for your beautiful chords,

Could feel your trips of fingertips as cherished rewards.

My soul the strings given heart with your bowing,

Meaningless apart, a touch brings forth knowing.

A knowledge that in the end all know is true,

As one we are more than a distant two.

A dusty relic in a corner, I now anxiously wait,

To again feel your touch from sunrise to late.

The days are passing, each seeming as years,

A discordant world cries full rivers of tears.

Why do we keep waiting to help set them free?

It would only take the touch of you to me.

Perchance this wish will manifest,

Before all our hope smothers at your breast.

It would become the most sorrowful of all