he was nothing that
she ever thought she wanted –
but perfect
she was the type he always thought
too high-maintenance –
but worth it
meeting at the corner of
giving up and moving on –
they made it work
wholly other
she’s wholly other in her ways:
considered beautiful by guys,
but aims to be both good and wise,
so as to truly merit praise
she is not proud, although she’s smart,
she knows what she must have for sure:
a man who’s good to more than her
will be the one to win her heart
To share is human:
The Ill-Begotten Mirror
He worked with all his expertise
To make a master’s mirror;
And into it, he tried to squeeze
A way to see things clearer
And as the years went by, he gazed
Into its surface proudly –
While doing so, he often praised
His own work, rather loudly
But years went by; he saw that he
Looked horrid through its lens,
Some sort of awful parody,
No class, no soul, no friends
He grew to hate the mirror for
The ugliness he saw:
He’d made it fine – now it was poor,
A giant loathsome flaw
He threw it out one summer day
With satisfaction grim;
He hated what he saw in it –
For it reflected
Him
To share is human:
A Perfect Ten
I was pushing my mother through the museum complex
While myself on a crutch for my injured knee
This worked fine, inside
But when we got outside to the paved stones
I was having trouble negotiating the pavement
A teenage girl broke away from her pack of friends
Introduced herself
And offered to take my mother around
I was so grateful
But so ashamed, remembering what I had been like at her age
For truthfully
I wouldn’t have even noticed
She walked around, pointing out the local plants and animals
Chatting gently with my mom
Who thought she was just precious
I snapped a photo of the two of them
Before we went back inside
I shook her hand before she went back to her friends
Thanked her
And said to her,
“Young lady, you … are a perfect ‘Ten’.”
She said, “Thank you, sir. But…
What do you mean, exactly?”
“The best kind,” I said, “a ‘Ten’ as in…
‘Samari-ten'”
(|)
To share is human:
Love Stuns the Countryside
She said:
I wish that I had more to give.
But I work hard, and what I have is truly yours.
I will be someone in whom you can place your trust.
There are depths in me no man has ever seen
And there is a fire I have kept
In secret rooms all these years
For only your admittance.
And I will love you – oh, I will love you
With all the passion any woman could have
Through the rest of our days, and
Through the uttermost reaches of my heart.
He answered:
My love will be an instrument for you:
Playing beautiful music every day.
My labor, a melody to help you rest in the evening.
My passionate love, a rhythm to quicken your pulse at night.
I will share what I have fully with you
And together, we will see colors that neither of us
Ever dreamed we’d see.
Let me honor you, and be worthy of all trust:
In action, in temper, in words, and in touch.
For all my love is offered to you
Forever.
To share is human:
The Wrath of Summer
It’s summertime in Georgia,
It’s ninety-eight degrees;
Humidity’s a thousand
With nothing like a breeze
The heat oppresses every one
From rich to simple folk;
We are not getting suntans for
The risk we’ll get heat stroke
I’d like the autumn to come soon,
If I could, I would rush it:
The asphalt down here is so hot
The sun won’t even touch it
So come to Georgia if you want
To feel the wrath of Summer;
Most likely, when you go back home
It won’t be such
A bummer
To share is human:
Old-Fashioned
She told him he must fight for her,
But that he would not do.
He said, “You know I want you;
I need you to want me, too.
And if you don’t, that’s fine;
Just go ahead, and be with him.”
And she said, “Yeah, whatever.
Hit the bricks, man. What a wimp.”
I heard what they both said, but
I cannot tell who is right.
Still, isn’t it old-fashioned
To expect us men to fight?
To share is human:
parental advice, revisited
the only thing you ever said
was don’t get hurt and come home dead
so, tempted as i might have been
i’ve lived carefulest of men
To share is human:
A Song of Generations
A Daily Prompt Poem
= = = = =
People I’ve known, throughout the country
People of every description and creed
Young and old, all colors, all dispositions, all backgrounds
Men, women, boys, girls, short, tall, thin, heavy
Those whose wrinkles tell more stories than I could ever post on this blog
Those so young that the very act of seeing is a new experience
Those who express themselves in gesture, in word, in movement, in action
Those who could not express themselves: the tired, the sick, the indigent
All of those who make up what life is
Who make this country what it is
I have also seen the charlatans, the hucksters, the con artists
I have seen the scavengers, the vultures, those that prey upon the old and weak
I have seen that these people cross all divides
They come in all colors, all parties, all economic classes, all professed creeds
Including the creed of not professing a creed
The oldest fought
For what the old have built
That those of saving age, support
That those in working ages seek to improve
That the young dream of reshaping
That the child and infant motivate us to reach for
Across the generations
One voice
Different views
One humanity
Divergent tastes
One nation
Shared responsibility
Individual freedom
Generations linked together
One symphony
Composed of
Many many songs
Out
Of
Many
One
