Oh Christy,
who was the teacher
who provoked you?
Who was the teacher
who shredded your confidence,
made you feel powerless,
alone,
stupid?
.
Who?
.
For surely somewhere,
you sustained a deep hurt
that is still a festering wound,
that causes you to lash out
like an injured dog,
irrationally,
deflecting your pain with today’s power.
Some time ago,
there was a hurt,
that we are paying for.
.
Christy,
A counselor
would be cheaper.
.
.
.
It’s just a theory. But it would explain a lot.
Who you were there
eyes lit
smile glistening
passion sparkling
walking hand in hand
through the summer rain
fueled poetry
and wishful thinking.
Who you were there,
who I was then,
both left behind.
There is a plan before me
laid out step by step
But too much sits between
the steps for simple rising.
It seems so easy from a distance,
but closer to,
while the run is clear
the rise is high
and requires diligence
to climb.
.
.
.
.
(a little grumble about my current WIP. It may have been laid out with ridiculously thorough pacing and all key events and turns, but those bones require a great deal of flesh and sometimes I forget what I’m doing!)
You told the kids
he was useless, stupid, weak.
You bullied him
into believing it himself.
You kicked him
out the door, and mocked his
adoring devotion to you.
You didn’t deserve him
and now someone better
has discovered a treasure.
So while you sleep
from man to man,
like the good Christian woman
you always claimed to be,
your kids now see what
you had blinded them to.
That kind, loving man
is finally getting the relationship
he deserves.
.
.
,
Just heard yet another story of some woman abusing her kind-hearted man, and I had a flashback. Excuse the rant. (cough).
When
You sat beside me
I couldn’t find the gears
on this car I drive every day.
Your half drunk bottle of water
has become the holy relic in a
smile bestowing, mobile shrine
to your presence next
to me.
The “Isle of Capri” scent
wafting from the Lampe Berger
was supposed to ensure
you
didn’t
walk up the stairs and ask,
“What’d you burn?”
Perhaps I’ve used this strategy
once too often?
.
.
.
I am vaguely amused that the photo on the Lampe Berger homepage shows the exact lampe that I was using… (cough)
The dorm rang with
youthful enthusiasm.
We were learning to live,
expanding our limits,
and searching for a future.
So many years
and you are different
and the same.
We’re still learning,
expanding our limits,
contemplating our journeys,
and the next turn of the road.
.
.
.
Had a nice visit with folks I attended college with thirty years ago. So much is different, but so much remains the same whenever you meet old friends, doesn’t it? (It’s that ‘time has pleats’ thing again!)
I am confetti:
bits and pieces
tumbling from the heights
caught in the breeze,
old fashioned,
messy,
celebratory,
completely extraneous
paper joy.
I want you.
Despite all the objections,
inspections, rejections,
imperfections,
my predilection
is you.
.
.
.
Just think all the things the poet could be addressing here. Is the ‘you’ a lover, a baby, a puppy, a great pair of shoes…? 😉 What is your predilection?
Shawn L. Bird 