Friday, August 24, 2012

I've Never Known...

Hey, fellow babies! Here's something really different for Yours Truly! It's a straightforward love poem -- although some have said it reads more like a song -- that I wrote a while back. Yeah. Me. A love poem. Call the Believe It or Not! people.

Thanks for your time.

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I've Never Known...

I have loved several times in my lifetime,
But I never have found lasting bliss.
But this time, I do think, is the right time,
For I've never known love quite like this.

I just cannot escape what I'm feeling,
And I think about you all day long,
But the thoughts are all very appealing,
And I've never known love quite so strong.

In the night, with my thoughts of you, dearest,
Hey, who knows, I might grin in my sleep!
You're the person I want to have nearest,
For I've never known love quite so deep!

It is almost a kind of addiction.
I will stay with you. Oh, yes, I'm sure!
Or I wouldn't dare make that prediction.
Girl, I've never known love quite so pure.

I'll admit I've been goo goo and sappy,
But I swear that the way that I feel
Makes me babble because I'm so happy!
And I've never known love quite so real.

All your traits are incomparable, baby.
Yes, you're talented, clever, and kind.
You just dazzle me, and there's no "maybe!"
Dear, I've never known love quite so fine.

I had never expected to find you,
This love hit me from out of the blue,
May your love for me forever bind you.
I've just never known love quite so true.

Oh, my heart and my soul are on fire.
There's no holding it back; out it pours
As the fever burns higher and higher.
I have never known love quite like yours.

Friday, August 10, 2012

Determination ~~ A Fable





  The little girl came from a large family, mostly brothers. There were so many things she wanted to do alongside them, so many games she wanted to play that they could... and so many voices in her head saying "You can't do that. You're just a girl." So many doors locked, so many gates barred... "Boys are stronger." "Boys are smarter."

She laughed at the silly voices every time. "Let me pass!" she insisted. And she passed. And that was that.

When she wanted to leave her childhood home and marry, the voices said, "You can't, not yet! You still have responsibilities here." But she knew it was time to start living for herself. The voices sought to block her departure.

She set the wedding date and packed her bags. "Let me pass!" she insisted. And she passed. And that was that.

All through the middle decades of the 20th Century, when it was the woman's so-called "place" to cook, clean, and raise the children, she did all that and much, much more. The voices implored her to remain in her station, and not do volunteer work, not manage her husband's income, and not do minor refurbishings of their home. "You're doing far too much!" reprimanded those ever-present voices. "Stick to your assigned position as a wife and mother!"

She shook her head and laughed as they stood in front of all she hoped to accomplish. "Let me pass!" she insisted. And she passed. And that was that.

When her husband died, the young widow was perfectly suited to continue raising her children as a single mother, having coordinated so much of their lives to this point anyway. And her guidance continued long into their adulthood. She would always be their mother, she reasoned. They would never "catch up" to her; she would always "outrank" them. The voices said "At their age, you shouldn't help them any more! They're adults!"

 She countered with "But they're adults I'm responsible for bringing into this world... and you're in my way. Let me pass!" she insisted. And she passed. And that was that.

In time, her eyes grew weak, as did the legs, the ears, and even the mind which was once so sharp. When advanced age threatened to rob her of the independence she'd lived by for so many years, she knew that her work was done. And the voices, though not as strong as they used to be, still droned on. "You have to keep trying! Your loved ones will miss you! You can't just give up!"

The old woman smiled one last time. "They'll get by. So shut up. This, like everything else, will be done on my terms. Let me pass!" she insisted.

And she passed.

And that was that.

Wednesday, August 8, 2012

The Maple Tree



Is it possible
To take pride
In the accomplishments
Of someone
In whose creation
And molding
You took
Absolutely no part?

I wonder...

So many similarities
Do I see.
I know that
In a different life,
A different world,
I could have pushed
This child
In a swing
Attached to the branch
Of a maple tree
And watched her grow
Somewhat
Like myself,
And so much
Like the tree
As well.
So strong!
Always pushing,
Always daring
That swing
To take her
Ever higher.

Of course,
The real world intrudes.
It always does.
And she does perform
So admirably in it.
But still,
She strives
To play her own songs,
And succeeds!
And she inspires others
To find
Their own music
As well.

But lately,
I sense a weariness,
And it disturbs me.
I sense a fatigue
That cannot be allowed.

Perhaps if I'd been there
During her childhood,
In reality,
I'd have the right
To lend a hand now
And help,
If I could.
For this voice
Should never be stilled,
Even momentarily!
Not from without,
Nor,
God forbid,
From within.

Never from within.


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Don't over-analyze this one too much, fellow babies. That can cause more trouble than it's worth. I oughtta know; I'm famous for doing that!

Thanks for your time.

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