Skip to main content

Three Love Songs


First is from the one that’s filled with fear,

Listen close and you will likely hear

Long and fond drones on the song that’s wrong:


“Prove your love and read my mind right now.

Hit the mark and do not ask me how

Know what triggers me before I do

Or I will bleed all over you.


“You must live to give me what I need –

Broken, faithful, thoughtless heartless steed.

You should know where I want us to go

Kick and prod until you know.”



Second song is from my voice within;

A secret silent solemn hidden hymn.

Now alone I own this homely tone: 


“I was young and hoped that older me

Always thought and worked to keep me free.

Now I’m old and lost the little boy –

Shunned him for her fragile joy.


“Though we fight and bite and steal and cry

You will always be my little guy.

Though our bond is one we cannot see

We will make our selfs good company.”


Third comes from the one I thought I’d lost,

Her kiss and touch it came at such great cost.

Blue, you flew and coo the truest tune:


“We had gone our separate happy way 

Days of romance locked in memory. 

Though we do not fear being alone

Why do we still yearn to make a home?

 

“I am strong and you will also see

Love is kind and good and free from me.

You might hurt me every single day

Yet still I choose you anyway.”


Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Angel

Play this song softly with headphones while you read:  "Jacob and the Stone" by Emile Mosseri Tom lays quietly in his hospital bed. The cataracts took his sight completely over the last month or so. His stomach no longer accepts any water or food. His skin is frail as paper and his bones are light as air.  You’d think at a time like this Tom would be thinking about his adventurous past, or lost in the fears or hopes of his unknown future. And though Tom’s gut may have given up trying to get him to eat by now, it hadn’t quit giving him advice, and it says to him that he can’t venture too far in either direction or he may never come back.  Tom was blissfully lost in the now. Tom had been wandering here for a while now. You see, losing his sight opened up a whole new world to him. A world where sounds, smells and touch filled the void of his sight. For the past minute Tom has been listening to the shuffle of the sheets getting tucked around him. In the quiet of the room, there i
Post a Comment
Read more

The Wily Wealthy Man and His Marvelous Mackerel Marvin

I really didn’t expect she would.  She did. … My pet fish, Marvin, isn’t someone I introduce people to until I think they’re ready. I wasn’t always this way. When I first got him and still had that naive glow in my eye, I was eager to show Marvin off to anyone who showed the slightest interest, or frankly, even those who showed no interest at all. I’ve since learned to wait.  Marvin is different from most fish. I found him on a voyage many years ago to the Marsupial Islands.  My crew and I were floating just beyond the shore. We had spent the day on the island and were now returning to our ship. Moonlight lit the beach turning the sand cold and blue. Food and water had become sparse. We had scoured much of the island, and still didn’t have enough supplies for our return journey. That’s when Marvin appeared.  My wool trousers were soaked and full of wet sand, weighing several pounds more than they did before I pushed our wooden dinghy into the waves. As soon as I clamored and sloshed in
Post a Comment
Read more

Seldom Tasted

I look too handsome for my books And scare my common friends with looks. The lover stunned by obvious goods  Will soon be lost in darker woods. The gaze that’s quick and can’t contain — The “care” drones on, I wish it gone. The traveler quits before the end And leaves me waiting at the bend Of rarely found gardens of good — Fated fruits misunderstood. Though kind and silent I will stay, “Please go with me,” I think to say. Seldom tasted best of all — The place where God and children call. I sit alone in company  With only me who waits to see. While in this quiet sacred grove I pluck a treasured yellowed rose; I smell the fragrance oh so sweet, Remove the shoes from off my feet. Wash in waters clean and clear, The gentle flow is all I hear. Though none but me awaits me here — I feel no doubt, no shame, no fear. For good remains the garden grove  For anyone to come behold.
Post a Comment
Read more