O Lord your most unworthy son
requests this boon of you:
that if she will not yield,
then let my suit be writ well
in the heart of her whom I love.
Let each line be read with gentle mirth.
Let each deed dared for her sake
be a token of her worth.
Let love exalt even as I am humbled.
Let love be a comfort
when she cannot find her face.
And may my eyes, having caressed
every plane and every pore of it,
never touch that face again.
So how do you write? Take something everyone else takes for granted and stand it on its head. Imagine their faces as what these people expect blows up in them. Find your inner imp and follow where she leads.
Monday, May 01, 2006
Waltz
if this is goodbye
then I'll make it a good one
I'll smile and wish you well
shelving my sadness
it's the last in a series
of well-meaning hurts after all
if it's another pause in
our endless dance
i'll take this chance--
to rest bruised feet
and aching shins
and maybe later I won't
trip over my own feet or
step on your toes or squeeze
your delicate hands too tightly
I've bungled all the steps,
pulled you to me, released you
out of time
this isn't a waltz sometimes--
it's a fight.
but I still want to dance with you
then I'll make it a good one
I'll smile and wish you well
shelving my sadness
it's the last in a series
of well-meaning hurts after all
if it's another pause in
our endless dance
i'll take this chance--
to rest bruised feet
and aching shins
and maybe later I won't
trip over my own feet or
step on your toes or squeeze
your delicate hands too tightly
I've bungled all the steps,
pulled you to me, released you
out of time
this isn't a waltz sometimes--
it's a fight.
but I still want to dance with you
Saturday, March 25, 2006
A short, untitled walking poem
also for Socorro
I'm familiar with pavement
and soft crumbly non-skid asphalt.
The odd pointed stone caught underfoot
and caught up in your shoe
--that's me.
I go where where your tiny feet take me.
I'm familiar with pavement
and soft crumbly non-skid asphalt.
The odd pointed stone caught underfoot
and caught up in your shoe
--that's me.
I go where where your tiny feet take me.
Walking Poem
for Socorro
i am dying by inches,
in small steps on well-worn roads
each night as i waste away
walking.
just walking. i am always
walking. and every step toward
home--every step toward you --
takes me
farther and farther away.
then wheels take me back past my
resolutions, my promise
to myself to walk away
for good
and I am drawn, through hurt
through anger and through sadness
through joy, to you, to begin
the cycle of walking again.
i am dying by inches,
in small steps on well-worn roads
each night as i waste away
walking.
just walking. i am always
walking. and every step toward
home--every step toward you --
takes me
farther and farther away.
then wheels take me back past my
resolutions, my promise
to myself to walk away
for good
and I am drawn, through hurt
through anger and through sadness
through joy, to you, to begin
the cycle of walking again.
Sunday, January 08, 2006
A Stab at Dexterian Lit in Japanese
慰めさん、私に戻りたい。
心にはまだ家があって、君を待っています。
このごろ冷たい、慰めさんの手は。
なぜ寒くしていますか、あなたの愛の風は。
もどれ、二人の暖かいときに。私の寂しさ、私の幸福。
お戻り下さい おねがいします。君を愛している人は待っています。
Solace, I want you to return to me.
There is still a home in my heart and it waits for you.
These days your hand is cold.
Why have you made it cold, the wind of your love?
Return,and two are warm.My Loneliness, my Joy.
Please return. The one who loves you waits.
心にはまだ家があって、君を待っています。
このごろ冷たい、慰めさんの手は。
なぜ寒くしていますか、あなたの愛の風は。
もどれ、二人の暖かいときに。私の寂しさ、私の幸福。
お戻り下さい おねがいします。君を愛している人は待っています。
Solace, I want you to return to me.
There is still a home in my heart and it waits for you.
These days your hand is cold.
Why have you made it cold, the wind of your love?
Return,and two are warm.My Loneliness, my Joy.
Please return. The one who loves you waits.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)