Page 83.
Three hundred dollars and a self-help book
have been donated to your favorite charity.
I also talked them into loving me
and then walked away honorably
(just to repay the entire debt.)
Surely they’ll do something nice for themselves.
Sealed.
I did that favor
and
prayed
for your peace.
It was answered very quickly,
it seems.
but
I won’t rewrite
the story
in my mind,
mkay?
Something new
Happy is hard and
angst is easy
(so) perhaps I should devote
my words to the
vulnerability of hope and harmony
and the fear of losing love.
Or maybe I should
simply
Enjoy it.
Sometimes.
Eggs in a basket
mystery.
More real than I pretend.
And “variety is the spice of life”
is what I say when I put myself in
your practical black shoes
and look back at me.
Not now but later.
I speak of the gimmick
and the honeymoon period
but what I really mean is
when will you get tired of me
like he did.
When will you look at what used to be cute
and sigh with exasperation
instead of wonder.
When does take your time
become hurry up
And
go have fun
become stay right here
And
I’ll cook dinner
become
do you know how to do anything?
You laugh and say never
But deep down what I know is
That it changes.
Quirk becomes irk
And we will all get stuck here.
Poem Found
from 3.08
Let’s dump all the
sadness;
enough of the
blues.
Goodbye to cries,
I’ve paid my dues.
It’s time for
the future;
it’s time for
the fun.
Time to pick up
the tempo
and put down
the gun.
so now that
it’s said,
let’s hope that it’s done.
Cause the battles are over.
The war has been won.
Thoughts on a Lonely Christmas
christmas co
okies
and
cherry sours
champagne chilling
for a solo celebration
of choices made
and challenges completed.
a year of uncertainty
behind
and one of hope
ahead.
guarantees never imagined,
now considered.
the wonder of chance.
the power of heart.
the magic of hope.
the gift of ruin.
Gratitude wells.
Maybe Magic
You wonder if it’s magic that brought you here.
The wave of a wand,
or
twitch of the nose.
Some robed hand
outstretched,
casting spells
with words we don’t understand.
A garden gnome, disturbed,
maybe a leprechaun..
did you stumble upon a rainbow’s end?
A lamp rubbed,
a wish made in a fleeting moment,
overheard by a passing pixie
bent on a bit of mischief.
Magic, you say.
Or maybe another word.
inspired by poetry potluck at Jingle Poetry.
and maybe some other stuff.
kicking some mahjong ass
and thinking about
christmas decorations
sunshine
and weak stolen internet connections.
grateful for toddlers
well meaning christianlike authors
and teenage daughters who are, for now,
getting along.
sounds of
ray lamontagne singing about
the arms of a woman
and paperweight with
schuyler and joshua.
a glass or two of
turn four awaiting my attention
while I wait for the phone to ring
and wonder if it should.
pfp revisited
every other day
pieces of your heart
came to me
and now they sit, wrapped together,
closeted.
a secret,
just like you.
there,
just for me,
when no one else was.
I should have thanked you better.
Just a thought.
trust may equal hurt,
that is certain
but does the inverse hold true?
it seems the only thing to do
is leap. and trust.
lay yourself out on a silver platter
and wait for love.
or a dagger.
