Sheila’s not afraid of laughing
At herself or anyone;
Vanity and human foibles
Are an endless source of fun
So her voice is filled with laughter,
Musical, like sweet guitar:
Nothing’s funnier than lovers,
Look at how absurd
We are
Tag: Love Stories
To Walk Together —
He’d never been the high-achievement kind.
He heard about it from his ex a lot —
But yet, he is not lazy, just the type
Who’s happy taking care of what he’s got;
Instead of restlessly acquiring more.
She’d wanted more than just to share a bed.
Relationships of hers had all devolved
To homely power struggles in the end —
With men who knew no ease from problems solved;
Men she left off as tendentious and sore.
But then, they met, and it was love at once.
Her love to him engendered his content:
He loved her as a wildflower grows
To watch and cherish for its sight and scent,
Without attempting to improve its store
To walk together:
Life and love, explore –
To walk together —
All they’d each
Longed for
To share is human:
{ … seasons, like eternities … }
in seasons, like eternities,
we watched them spark and grow –
banalities are everything
when they are all you know –
or so we thought from where we sat.
our friends were deep and gone;
we judged things then quite casually –
so upper echelon
were we, that we saw nothing clear.
despite our vision grand
there was much in simplicity
we couldn’t understand.
you plan a trip, logistically,
it’s money and it’s stuff:
we somehow missed the marvel that
is two who have enough.
in seasons, like eternities,
the truth sang out at last;
while locked in our modernity,
the moment almost passed
to see and comprehend our friends
on top of Fortune’s wheel:
for love sees clearly, if not ends,
what matters and
what’s real
To share is human:
High Tide
She never knew the thing’s he’s known;
She never saw what he has seen.
But yet, through life’s vicissitudes
And through an empathy most keen
She’s tuned into the way he feels,
The man he is, inside —
And feels the ebb and flow of each
New low, or new high tide
And he – he wants to do the same:
To feel her changing moods and waves;
He gets her many gypsy jaunts,
Her forays into nooks and caves
He wants to know the many ways
Her heart is prone to go:
To laugh with her at high tide, and
To share with her
The low
To share is human:
{-Shown-}
She saw him looking in the park
For something he had dropped;
She was out for her exercise,
But curious, she stopped
And asked what he was looking for.
He didn’t lift his head,
“I lost my watch. Come help me.”
“I don’t think I can,” she said.
He looked up and he reddened,
And he said, “I’m sorry. Say –”
She laughed and said, “Don’t worry.
Where’d you drop it?” And then they
Looked all around the grass, until
She spotted it. And then
They sat awhile and talked;
Her name was Paige. His name was Ben.
The day drew on, the sky grew dark,
He asked if he could call;
So she gave him her number,
But she didn’t think – at all –
That he’d really ever call her.
But he did, that very night:
Her mom asked, “Who’s this boy?”
She told her mom, “Mom, it’s alright.
His name is Ben. I met him
At the park awhile ago.
He said that he would call me,
And he did.” Her mom said, “So…”
“He wants to go to dinner with me.
Dinner, Friday night,
I don’t have anything to wear.”
“Oh, we’ll make that alright.”
Her mom had never seen this Paige
This side she’d never known:
But love’s a light that won’t be blocked,
And when it shines
We’re shown
To share is human:
pistachios
they dined out on pistachios
and drank their ginger ale,
then spoke a bit of voting rights,
and benefits of kale
she asked him if her loved her true,
he said he didn’t know,
then they were left with silence, and
one last
pistachio
To share is human:
Pearl
A wild girl who ran away
To find her love among the wind and sand;
His native pearl, was what he used to say,
As he would gently take her hand
The ancient lands from which she came,
The pattern of a people of the earth;
A pearl among the Navajo, her name –
And love in him which she had given birth
And they grew old together, he and Pearl,
Her love remained as always, wild and fierce:
But never had a boy more loved a girl,
Nor died with so much honor
In his tears
To share is human:
when all the colors…
a saturday, with many staying in
to watch a football game, or be with friends:
he wandered out to see the autumn leaves,
as new in town he was, and restless kept
the stretch of woods he walked was gorgeous dressed;
he listened not to music, just the sound
of wind and cars and people as they went,
and felt the cool of autumn brush his neck
and saw a woman standing by a bridge:
a walking path above a tiny creek,
who stood there leaning with a book in hand,
and in it, for a bookmark, was a leaf
she said “hello” as he was walking by,
and he said “hi. what are you reading, there?”
“a book on inner sanctity,” she laughed,
and he did, too. and then he asked her name
she told it him, as he then told her his;
he said he was still new in town, and worked
at such-and-such a place. and she remarked
upon the colors of the fall that year
so step back with me now, and merely watch:
see unsuspecting love peek out its head –
as two who set out just to be alone,
now walking slowly through the glorious fall
when all the colors they had never known
were seen at once in all that may yet be:
come watch them now, as i do, in my mind,
as he discovers she discovers he
for love’s a story always with a start,
be it one of beginning or surprise,
when all the colors we have ever dreamed
get wrapped up all in one,
and so
do we
To share is human:
Asphodel
The sharp regret that follows to the grave
Is hidden now by neither snow nor stone;
For while we’re weak, it’s possible we’re brave
Enough to face our sorrows on our own,
Albeit, we need never be alone —-
For though we live in dungeons in the dark,
The fire’s there of love’s remaining spark.
With bitterness, regret stays ever close,
An agony that’s known to very few;
As we take wormwood, endlessly, in dose
And wear the angry lie to hide the true,
And gain the strength to do what we must do —-
As in the end, love stands and gives its all,
An “always” in its heart, up to its fall
Photo credit : © Robert Philip | Dreamstime.com
