Archive for July, 2012

I’m not sure I can believe
in the concept of good love.
Where I want to see truth, security and happiness
I see deceit, deception and above
all second-guessing intentions
never quite being sure
that what someone is saying
can be trusted, and before
following the path set by my heart
my brain gets in the way and will more and more
tell me I’m not worthy.

I’m not sure I can believe
in the idea of ‘us forever’.
Where I want to see hope, future and being secure
I see all that could go wrong and never
once have I been able to go the course
fulfill the dream
of long-term, eternity and comfort
which, to me, makes it seem
that not only is there no ‘us forever’
but also in love there is no in between
and I’m not worthy.

But still I see them
all around
the lucky ones
with love that’s sound
and I keep thinking
that if they can
then why can’t I
find me a good man?
If others can do it
why would it not work
for me, but listen up,
because here’s the quirk;
If I don’t believe
then why should they?
If I don’t have hope
who would trust me when I say
that I’m so worthy?

Perhaps I need to try harder to believe
in the concept of good love.
To say what I want; truth, security and happiness
without deceit, deception and above
all no second-guessing intentions
that I do want to be sure
that what someone is saying
can be trusted, and before
following the path set by my heart
not let my brain get in the way and more and more
tell me I’m not worthy.


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The whisper of a smile
on your lips
as I pass by
and I know that
you’re away
once again.
How I wish that I could see
where you got to
when you flee
as you leave this world
for your daydreaming pretend.

I would give
anything I own
to be there,
where you have gone
when that
whisper of a smile
touches your lips.
Mona Lisa
would have wept
none of her mystery
be kept
at the comparison
of her smile with yours.

The whisper of a smile
on your lips
as I pass by
and I know that
you’re away
once again.
How I wish that I could see
where you got to
when you flee
as you leave this world
for a daydreaming pretend.

There’s always a longing to know what hides behind a loved one’s secret smile. Is she/he missing someone else? Is there a joke that I’ve somehow missed? For this prompt on Poetry Jam, Daydream Believers, I decided to place myself in the observer’s seat, actually a man who’s madly in love with the woman he’s observing, and let her secret smile while daydreaming frustrate him. The kind of off-beat rhythm of the scribble can be blamed on the Monkees, though I know I didn’t follow through with a full on lyrics.

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You touched my heart, my dear old friend,
proved distance does not friendship end!
The summer skies cleared up for you
and life I could enjoy anew.

We had some mad times, us, back then,
but as time passed, I can’t pretend;
some of our mistakes I can’t defend!
However, we lived and we stayed true!
You touched my heart, you!

The time apart now brought to end,
and you’re back in my life, my dear old friend!
Shall not be parted again from you
through distance and time, friendship will stay true!
With thoughts of gratitude I now send;
YOU are in my heart!

It is Friday the 13th, and over on ‘Imaginary Garden with Real Toads‘ they are celebrating with Mary’s mixed bag Friday the 13th and four separate prompts. I chose to attempt the rondeau, a 13 line poetry form in three paragraphs: AABB AABBC AABBAC. C stands for the refrain, which is also the first half of the first line. Of course I cheated just the tiniest bit, but that’s why they call it poetic license, right?

I have just spent a few wonderful days with a friend from the past, and even though he’s now gone back home I’m still buzzing with the feeling of being cared for, for just who I am. There’s nothing romantic about it, just simple and at the same time complicated friendship. To not be alone, and still be yourself. And it touches my heart.

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Doing a hundred miles an hour
memories quickly whizzing past.
There’s no point in trying to stop them,
it’s all going way too fast.

Mixed emotions with so many memories,
both good and bad, of back then.
Could have, should have, would have wanted to
all become just ‘remember when?’.

And I’m so very glad to see you
of that there is not a single doubt.
But those memories brings out so much of me,
of an old me I can now do without.

Doing a hundred miles an hour
my brain does not want to go to sleep.
The memories that are rushing through it,
although some bad, I so want to keep.

Very surprisingly, I have a visitor for a few days this week, someone I haven’t seen for five odd years. It’s one of those strange situations where I feel not a day has passed since I last saw him, when in real life we probably haven’t really spoken in the last four out of those five years and my brain is very confused. It’s also a case of me having once had a crazy – quite long and strong – crush on this guy, a crush that was dead in the water – pain and loss – and then helped build one of the strongest friendships I have in my life. So many mixed memories…

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Thought I’d share this again from last year!

A Glass of Bubbly

On Fourth of July when big brother awakes
who’s there to give him his birthday cake?
Little sister Canada just waves across the lakes
and Mexico coming would be a big mistake.

He slowly opens his eyes today
a special morning in so many ways.
But who will bring him his presents?
France and Britain, the once proud parents?

Even his enemies have changed with time,
Communist Soviet’s no longer alive!
And China’s not big on gifts to the man,
which in some ways I think he does understand.

But still, birthdays come only once every year,
and the afternoon barbecue will be full of cheer.
Sweden and Germany will bring their own beer
and Afghanistan probably won’t appear.

So with fireworks in the darkening eve
I don’t think big brother will feel too peeved,
at the birthday celebration he has received
on Fourth of July in the land of…

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Sometimes I feel them bubbling
just below the surface,
waiting, gathering speed
until they are the voice of my creed.
Like a ripple down my spine,
that’s how words grow in my mind,
bubbling, waiting, growing strong
until they fill my heart with song.
And they bubble even more
to paint pictures from before,
to bring memories to life
filled with joy and heavy strife.
That’s how I feel them bubbling
just beyond my very reach,
waiting, slowly building power
until, at the final hour,
they erupt and fill my head
and I tell you – I am glad
to have words that fill my mind
with the power that you find
in the smallest and the biggest,
in the serious and in jest.
Without those words,
where would I be?
And without them,
would you see me?
Sometimes joyful, sometimes sad
I still tell you I am glad
for without colour in this world
I know words would go unheard.
And there are stories left to tell
as they bubble from my well.
Deep inside I feel them rising
gathering strength, and so surprising,
sometimes catching me unawares.
Sometimes I feel them bubbling
just below the surface,
waiting, gathering speed
until they form the voice of my creed.

I’m in a disgustingly good mood today, and the words just wouldn’t stop! Just a little something, I guess! Hope you have a fantastic 4th of July (if you’re American) and simply a great day (if you’re not).

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… and we had our afternoon in the sun,
playing, talking, having fun…
One of us never knew how fake the dreams were,
how much the other one just didn’t care…
So our afternoon stays forever that way
with no more words left ever to say…
No more jokes, no more games and no more lies…
Somehow that afternoon’s just filled with good-byes…
…’cause we had our afternoon in the sun
and we just didn’t savour it, never had none
of the joy that was somehow, through rum, portrayed
as the days passed us by, nothing more was really said.
… and a part of me still wonders why the hell not?
Where are the words we seem to have forgot?
Where is the love that was on display?
On that one sunny afternoon, that day?
… time has moved on, and so have we.
I guess there’s not much more left to see?
But that day, that afternoon still haunts me now
as I pack up my boxes and say good-bye.
… time passes the way time was always meant
and there will always be days we were simply not meant
to spend in the sunshine, but in the cool indoors…
The days that will haunt me forever more.

I’ve thought loads about my past year recently, perhaps because the end of the spring psychoanalysis session was coming up. Last summer I was so focused on emotions, so focused on being wrongly done by and on this blog… This year I face a month and some on my own. It’s scary, but still I wanted to dredge something up from the past. And the Mag 124 gave me just enough reason to… I suppose I could have done a better job of matching the poem to the image, but these are the words that were in my mind, so these are the words I’m putting down. As always, thank to the wonderful Tess Kincaid for her relentless effort to provide us with prompts.

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