Judith Viorst

(February 2, 1931)

The Honeymoon Is Over - Poem by Judith Viorst

The honeymoon is over
And he has left for work
Whistling something obvious from La Boheme
And carrying a brown calfskin attache case
I never dreamed he was capable of owning,
Having started the day
With ten pushups and a cold shower
Followed by hearty breakfast.

(What do we actually have in common?)

The honeymoon is over
And I am dry-mopping the floor
In a green Dacron dry-mopping outfit from Saks,
Wondering why I'm not dancing in the dark,
Or rejecting princes,
Or hearing people gasp at my one-man show,
My god, so beautiful and so gifted!

(The trouble is I never knew a prince.)

The honeymoon is over
And we find that dining by candlelight makes us squint,
And that all the time
I was letting him borrow my comb and hang up his wet
raincoat in my closet
I was really waiting
To stop letting him.
And that all the time
He was saying how he loved my chicken pot pie,
He was really waiting
To stop eating it.

(I guess they call this getting to know each other.)

Comments about The Honeymoon Is Over by Judith Viorst

  • Freshman - 787 Points John S (11/16/2015 12:12:00 AM)

    Again, out of the billions upon billions of people who every walked the earth, is she really the 203rd best poet ever? As I've said a million times, I will never understand modern poetry like I will never understand the appeal of Modern Art. Why do the art critics and the museum owners immortalize artists who can't paint, who can't shade, or draw in perspective, or draw the human figure with correct proportion, knowing the hundreds of muscles, bones, tendons by practice or by genius from every angle. The myriad and nuanced details of nature evade the famous modern artists. To spit in the face of Monet, Dali, and Michelangelo, by placing a painting of a blob in the same museum. I feel the same way about modern poetry. Not all of it, but a lot of it.
    The ideas expressed in this poem were excellent. The poetic execution was not. How would Poe, Whitman, Lord Byron, or even some of the more talented modern writers like Sylvia Plath have written this poem. You may disagree, but I am entitled to my opinion. This sounds like a first draft she copied directly out of a late-night journal entry. Now she may be a talented person. Imagine if she had taken the time and energy to use the energy evoked from rhyme and meter. I guarantee this poem would have been rated higher than a 6.3, because again the ideas expressed are great. Love fades and your left to the boring, tedious life that is supposedly the American Dream. Why isn't she 'dancing in the dark, or rejecting princes.' If she were alive, I would love to challenge her to rewrite this poem. Rewrite it 1000 times until its beautiful prose make it jump off the page. I'm sorry, I know I'll get thumbs down, but that's how I feel. If you disagree don't thumb down me, but articulate your opposing opinion to me. Make me want to change my mind. Maybe I'm not seeing something you are. (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
Read all 1 comments »

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Read poems about / on: beautiful, work, green, people, dark, time, god, dance, dream

Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003

[Hata Bildir]