The way in which I try to tell you how I feel
Always seems to fall a trifle short
And when I reach for words to let you know I care
My feelings never seem to come through in retort...
I love you
So completely
I love you
Though discretely...
I love you
In ways that make my heart hurt
In ways that always seem to pull up short
In wayst that never do justice to the feelings
To the emotions
To the size and force and immense nature
Of my love
For you
No matter what
No matter where
No matter how
I love you
My PG
Torn between my duty
And my heart
I love you
And I pray
You love me too.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
One More Second...
From NPR commentator and playwright Kevin Kling:
"In Miss Jensen's fifth grade class, the day before Valentines' Day, I carefully sort through my Valentines cards. 30 cards to a pack, 30 students to a class. Choices have to be made. What does this card say? What should this card say? And what should this card not be saying? Never give a girl a picture of a car, or a boy with a ballerina. And when in doubt, go with a circus motif! The card bearing the words "Be My Valentine" is the most intimate, and therefore the most dangerous. You're stuck with four to a pack, so you send them to one or two girls you trust, and one to your best pal, with the phrase "YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN" penciled in the cartoon figure. Then put the card in an envelope with a pastel colored candy heart, worst candy ever invented, with phrases like "Why Not?", "Oh Oh", and "What's That?" phrases that seem to have nothing to do with love. Then drop the envelope into a brightly colored shoebox and walk away. Never look back! Walk. Away. When I dig into my doily, tinfoil, and red crepe paper shoebox, I find 28 circus motifs, and a couple of cars.
Later that day, we assemble in the gym for social dance. With all the girls lined up against one wall and the boys against the other. Miss Jensen steps into the middle of the gym, blows her whistle TWEET! and we all come together to find partners and start dancing. TWEET! Then Miss Jensen puts on a polka record on the metal record player. That record player you could hit with a medicine ball and it wouldn't skip. You could see the vinyl peeling up from behind the needle, TWEET! And I'd run out, looking for a partner, but none of the girls wanted to dance with me! I was tiny and they were so much taller! And their bodies were starting to change and they didn't want some little head down in there! And then, there she was, Joan Quinlavine, Joan Quinlavine. 5'10" since the fifth grade! And I'd come together with Joan and I'd wear my special sweater with the stretchy sleeves and she's pull one sleeve out and then the other and dance with the ends of my sleeves.
Then, Judy Martinez moved to town. Judy Martinez. She was small like me, but she was BEAUTIFUL, oh so beautiful. Judy Martinez, oh Lord I would say her name over and over and over, Martinez. Drawing her name on my notebook, replacing Big Daddy Hot Rod drawings with the name, Martinez. And when she entered the room, I would gobble up every second, using seconds just as fast as they could arrive, and holding them, trying to make time stop. Just another second, just another second, just another second Judy. The cracked cup of love after all is in constant need of filling. And when Judy tells me I look good, man I believe her. When a man is in love, and looks in the mirror, he sees exactly what he is being told. But when a woman looks in the mirror, she glances over and sees who's doing the telling. For when I tell Judy she's beautiful, she looks at me and says "think so?" Oh, yeah, man I know it! I was tore apart in love and rebuilt in her eyes. And like star-crossed Italian lovers, I like Dante would march into Hell's gapping gates for her. And she like Sophia Lauren, throwing out a basin of water and screaming "But Mama, I Love him!" Until we'd ride off on a three wheel Harley and join the circus.
But, in love's game of red rover, red rover, tragedy is often called to come on over. And Judy was transferred that spring to another school. And although we promised to write and stay in touch, our love grew pastel. Time and distance make wonderful in-laws, but poor lovers. But luckily in this life, a person gets his allotment of circus motifs, a few hotrods, a couple of ballerinas, and a precious few Be My Valentine's. These days I am blessed with love anew and I count the seconds with her as treasures.
I recently read an article in the paper about an elderly couple in Chicago. An incident where the woman was crossing train tracks and her heel became lodged in the rail. Her husband rushed to her side, yet despite their attempts, the shoe would not pull free. And as the train approached, her husband kissed his wife and said goodbye, and held her as the train passed through. There was speculation as to the man's reasons for holding on, some said he couldn't bear to live without his wife, some said he wanted to join her in eternity. But I feel he was thinking "One more second., just one more second. One. More. Second." "
I understand...
"In Miss Jensen's fifth grade class, the day before Valentines' Day, I carefully sort through my Valentines cards. 30 cards to a pack, 30 students to a class. Choices have to be made. What does this card say? What should this card say? And what should this card not be saying? Never give a girl a picture of a car, or a boy with a ballerina. And when in doubt, go with a circus motif! The card bearing the words "Be My Valentine" is the most intimate, and therefore the most dangerous. You're stuck with four to a pack, so you send them to one or two girls you trust, and one to your best pal, with the phrase "YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN" penciled in the cartoon figure. Then put the card in an envelope with a pastel colored candy heart, worst candy ever invented, with phrases like "Why Not?", "Oh Oh", and "What's That?" phrases that seem to have nothing to do with love. Then drop the envelope into a brightly colored shoebox and walk away. Never look back! Walk. Away. When I dig into my doily, tinfoil, and red crepe paper shoebox, I find 28 circus motifs, and a couple of cars.
Later that day, we assemble in the gym for social dance. With all the girls lined up against one wall and the boys against the other. Miss Jensen steps into the middle of the gym, blows her whistle TWEET! and we all come together to find partners and start dancing. TWEET! Then Miss Jensen puts on a polka record on the metal record player. That record player you could hit with a medicine ball and it wouldn't skip. You could see the vinyl peeling up from behind the needle, TWEET! And I'd run out, looking for a partner, but none of the girls wanted to dance with me! I was tiny and they were so much taller! And their bodies were starting to change and they didn't want some little head down in there! And then, there she was, Joan Quinlavine, Joan Quinlavine. 5'10" since the fifth grade! And I'd come together with Joan and I'd wear my special sweater with the stretchy sleeves and she's pull one sleeve out and then the other and dance with the ends of my sleeves.
Then, Judy Martinez moved to town. Judy Martinez. She was small like me, but she was BEAUTIFUL, oh so beautiful. Judy Martinez, oh Lord I would say her name over and over and over, Martinez. Drawing her name on my notebook, replacing Big Daddy Hot Rod drawings with the name, Martinez. And when she entered the room, I would gobble up every second, using seconds just as fast as they could arrive, and holding them, trying to make time stop. Just another second, just another second, just another second Judy. The cracked cup of love after all is in constant need of filling. And when Judy tells me I look good, man I believe her. When a man is in love, and looks in the mirror, he sees exactly what he is being told. But when a woman looks in the mirror, she glances over and sees who's doing the telling. For when I tell Judy she's beautiful, she looks at me and says "think so?" Oh, yeah, man I know it! I was tore apart in love and rebuilt in her eyes. And like star-crossed Italian lovers, I like Dante would march into Hell's gapping gates for her. And she like Sophia Lauren, throwing out a basin of water and screaming "But Mama, I Love him!" Until we'd ride off on a three wheel Harley and join the circus.
But, in love's game of red rover, red rover, tragedy is often called to come on over. And Judy was transferred that spring to another school. And although we promised to write and stay in touch, our love grew pastel. Time and distance make wonderful in-laws, but poor lovers. But luckily in this life, a person gets his allotment of circus motifs, a few hotrods, a couple of ballerinas, and a precious few Be My Valentine's. These days I am blessed with love anew and I count the seconds with her as treasures.
I recently read an article in the paper about an elderly couple in Chicago. An incident where the woman was crossing train tracks and her heel became lodged in the rail. Her husband rushed to her side, yet despite their attempts, the shoe would not pull free. And as the train approached, her husband kissed his wife and said goodbye, and held her as the train passed through. There was speculation as to the man's reasons for holding on, some said he couldn't bear to live without his wife, some said he wanted to join her in eternity. But I feel he was thinking "One more second., just one more second. One. More. Second." "
I understand...
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Gone Too Long
Back again
Seems like it's been so long
Have you missed you me?
Have you missed where you were
Where I was
Where we are?
Sometimea it seems melancholy that
In order to make it
To be where we want to be
We often live places behind
Places that charmed us
Blessed us
Saved us
We cannot live in the places that were merely
Reststops
Layovers
Seats on the journey
We live where we are
And where we are is wonderful
But we can think back to where we've been
And we can remember
Do you remember?
I remember?
And I think of what lies before us
And I hope that makes you smile
For that makes me smile...always.
Seems like it's been so long
Have you missed you me?
Have you missed where you were
Where I was
Where we are?
Sometimea it seems melancholy that
In order to make it
To be where we want to be
We often live places behind
Places that charmed us
Blessed us
Saved us
We cannot live in the places that were merely
Reststops
Layovers
Seats on the journey
We live where we are
And where we are is wonderful
But we can think back to where we've been
And we can remember
Do you remember?
I remember?
And I think of what lies before us
And I hope that makes you smile
For that makes me smile...always.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Late Night Lament
Wishing you were here
Instead of there
Reaching for you
Through time and space
Trying to touch you
To hold you
I'm here
I'm there
I'm right there
I'm right here
I'll always be right here...
Instead of there
Reaching for you
Through time and space
Trying to touch you
To hold you
I'm here
I'm there
I'm right there
I'm right here
I'll always be right here...
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Sonnet #1: To a Mother, Graduate, and friend
Who knows how one begins to feel such pride,
Such admiration for the other's work
That visions rise and in one's heart abide?
Yet, nonetheless, within, doubt's shadows lurk.
For as the acts of others bring one joy,
Does pride diminish? Soon, left in its place:
A certain self-indulgent arrogance.
And so, we turn and to the mirror face
Our own desires; our needs; our wants; our fears
That manifest and in accordance lay
Between mere cordial words in other's ears
And words writ on the heart that ever say,
"For you, and you alone, I thank above
As pride's but yet another way to love."
Such admiration for the other's work
That visions rise and in one's heart abide?
Yet, nonetheless, within, doubt's shadows lurk.
For as the acts of others bring one joy,
Does pride diminish? Soon, left in its place:
A certain self-indulgent arrogance.
And so, we turn and to the mirror face
Our own desires; our needs; our wants; our fears
That manifest and in accordance lay
Between mere cordial words in other's ears
And words writ on the heart that ever say,
"For you, and you alone, I thank above
As pride's but yet another way to love."
Friday, May 1, 2009
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
"Some Place Better Than Where You've Been..."
I see clear the soft horizon
Of a desert road deep within...
I am calling you
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Don't Say Goodnight
Nighttime makes us melancholy
Emotions find their way
Deep and strong
Welling up
Coursing through us
Every light seems to glow
And produce an image
In my head
In my heart
Of you
I hear a buzz
Repeating words
I don't want to hear
"Until tomorrow,
Goodnight.
Goodnight.
Good night.
Night.
Good.
Night."
I guess it is.
It will have to be.
A good night.
Emotions find their way
Deep and strong
Welling up
Coursing through us
Every light seems to glow
And produce an image
In my head
In my heart
Of you
I hear a buzz
Repeating words
I don't want to hear
"Until tomorrow,
Goodnight.
Goodnight.
Good night.
Night.
Good.
Night."
I guess it is.
It will have to be.
A good night.
Holding back...
Life gets in the way
In the way of passion
Of comfort
Of us
Time simply plods along
Tick, tock, tick, tock
Until the next time
The time for which I pine
I feel like it's a rainy day
And in the next room
Waits my special place
Warm, inviting, secure...just out of reach.
In the way of passion
Of comfort
Of us
Time simply plods along
Tick, tock, tick, tock
Until the next time
The time for which I pine
I feel like it's a rainy day
And in the next room
Waits my special place
Warm, inviting, secure...just out of reach.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Breath of Life
Stealing time and happiness
In nooks and crannies
In seconds and moments
In strange places
In subtle ways
A touch
A song
A glance
A smile
Every so often
A shared exchange
That makes the wait worthwhile
What we share
The only thing in the world
That's just for us
Fleeting in one way,
But forever in another.
Driving home
I could feel your breath in my mouth
And it took me higher
Than any drug has or could.
You touch my heart through walls.
In nooks and crannies
In seconds and moments
In strange places
In subtle ways
A touch
A song
A glance
A smile
Every so often
A shared exchange
That makes the wait worthwhile
What we share
The only thing in the world
That's just for us
Fleeting in one way,
But forever in another.
Driving home
I could feel your breath in my mouth
And it took me higher
Than any drug has or could.
You touch my heart through walls.
Why a blog?
Sometimes, there are things that you want the world to know, but not from you. Hiding the identity of the messenger doesn't hide the truth within the message. These pieces have meaning for me, but also for the eyes, ears, and hearts to whom they are intended. You know who you are. This is for you.
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