Dedicata
02-09-2006, 18:34
Poetry written for my bonnie lass, Danielle, is posted here.
(A new poem is composed every Thursday, although it may not be posted here. And I will never double-post.)
1 Week
Be Not Afraid
While walking on a rainbow, I come upon a cloud.
He says to me, "my dear boy, how can you be so loud?
Your voice disturbs the heavens, much, as you cheer aloud-
Why are you in the heavens, and not among the crowd?"
For a moment I stop my walk,
To see the whole thing through;
To the raincloud I start to talk,
To show my point of view.
"Just like Jack and the tall beanstalk,
You fear lest I should go
Far too high and a great door knock,
And wake some giant slow."
"I fear it true, I'm telling you,"
(The black cloud soon replies)
"I hear it said, he rears his head,
And lures with Siren's cries."
"Have you yourself encountered this beast?
Have you e'er heard his cry?
Do you intend to stare at the feast,
Too scared by the shadow to try?
The feast is here, the giant is not
(Nor shall he ever come).
Thank God for this, for all you have got,
For you He sent His Son."
The raincloud smiles and says to me,
"You'd best be on your way,
I seldom see such men as thee,
Your joy I shan't delay."
2 Weeks
This Song Doesn't Have A Proper Title Because The First Thing That Came To Mind When I Tried To Think Of Things That Rhyme With Ritz Was Ditz And I Think You Are Far From Ditzy So I Decided To Use This Really Long Title Instead.
[To the tune of "Puttin' On the Ritz"]
Once I asked a girl a question,
What'd she make of my suggestion?
She said yes... you know the rest!
I hope she is here to stay,
Calls each day- not much to say
That's OK... better that way!
There's no way I ever shall forget her,
To show her I care I'll write a letter (nothin' better!)
One each week to send to her,
Poetry again to her,
Personal mail... without fail!
Half the fun is trying to,
Come up with some thing to do,
Even if it's nothing new,
It's all worth some time with you,
Bad film! It's not a problem!
Burned corn! Nothing rhymes with problem!
To this song there is morel,
I'll crown you with every laurel,
These things I do... are done for you!
3 Weeks
Unfinished
This poem is unfinished,
It's clearly far from done,
But I've no better verse to give
Than this unfinished one.
This poem uncompleted,
I humbly give to you
It's no done yet, but that's because
It is so very new.
It is so new it goes on through
The barriers of time,
The Past, the Now, the Soon, the New-
They all to one combine.
Combine so much, indeed in fact,
I cannot sort them out
What's then was then- or maybe now-
Or yet to come about.
So time is splintered into shards
That sparkle in the sun
They flash, and show, in their slow glow
Things done and things to come.
A certain shard does catch my eye
Much better than the sea
Of other shards that float around
That pic of you and me.
It's you and me, most plain to see
The only question's when-
Is soon the end of things of "we"-
Or did "we" just begin?
It could be from some long time past
This shard within my scope,
It could be from the here and now
Though that is not my hope.
My hope is that it's something yet
To come to pass- what's more
I'ope* piously that you and me
Have much time left in store.
*I hope (one syllable)
4 Weeks
The Month
There are some strange, phantasmal days,
Between July and August-
Though in "dog days", most certainly,
This month is not the doggest.
It is this month that's often blamed
For Summer's quickened pace.
Because, although it's not yet named,
It causes missing days.
It goes on through and never lasts-
I look for it each year
Or else on by me it will pass
And that's something I fear.
The other day I thought about it,
That month which ends so fast
There came a thought, I could not doubt it-
I knew that month had passed.
It had come early, on this year,
-Between both May and June-
And now it's clear, the end is near;
That month is over soon.
It's said times fly when they are fun
And I suppose that's true-
If there's one thing I'm glad I've done,
It's spend that month with you!
5 Weeks
Saying Sorry
To say "I'm sorry" is your reaction
The moment you notice some small infraction
That may be a worry to me.
Though that's well and good
Let it be understood:
Don't worry 'bout sorry 'round me.
When you say "I'm sorry",
And I say "don't worry",
It may seem a fruitless exchange-
But I'm glad to report,
Our words have imports,
When perspective you rearrange.
From a certain perspective
Your apologetic invective
Says simply you want absolution.
From that point of view
When I forgive you
I do so to get restitution,
But those aren't explanations-
Such selfish motivations,
(Or shall I say temptations)
As desiring satiations,
(And other aberrations)
Are neither the foundations,
Nor the creations,
Of healthy relations.
So when you say "I'm sorry",
And then I say "don't worry",
It must be a different story.
When your apologies I hear
I know that it's because you care-
From all that I can tell of you
You hope that I think well of you
And trust me dear, I do.
And when I say with words sincere
"No need to say sorry, my dear",
I say it in order to set you at ease
And not just my own heart to please.
And I forgive, I would not dare
To put on such a haughty air
As to pretend I've nothing to be sorry for
What's more...
There is one thing I'll say to you,
Danielle, I'm sorry, too.
6 Weeks
...Fourth Time's A Charm!
I tried to write something for you
To show you that I care
I tried to make it special, too,
But the words were just not there.
The words are here, inside my heart,
But the pen plays tricks on me-
Four poems now I've tried to start
And I've discarded three.
I said once that I would not
Though saying so made me blue,
I said once that I could not
But now I know that it's untrue,
I said once that I should not
But now I know what I should do.
I was advised to wait and watch and see
Before I said these words to thee
But now I've waited, watched, and seen,
And I still want you to be my queen
Yes I've waited and I've found it's true,
Danielle, I love you!
7 Weeks
Natural Beauty/On Lobsters
Natural beauty- beauty found
In natural things, in nose of hound,
In sweet sing-songs the robins sing
In the delicate flutter of dragonfly's wing
In kitten's purr
In koala's fur
In the first tender flower that follows winter.
Thy beauty is simple and pure-
Thy natural beauty is as a lobster!
A boiled lobster is red and bright
And on thy lips, to my delight,
Is the beauty to which I refer-
The natural beauty of the lobster!
A wondering lobster's a sight to see;
A tribute to your spontenaity.
I never have guessed
What it would do next-
Just as I cannot guess thee!
The lobster's claw is so resolved,
To hold on through thick and through thin;
Through lobster's claws your problems are solved-
You work hard and never give in.
And last but not least, a lobster is hard-
Covered with an outer shell.
But not half as hard
As what vexes this bard-
Making lobsters romantic for my Danielle!
7 Weeks
Persons, Both Im and Twim
I know of a way to look at twirled
And all the hallucinations
Look on past the audacities
Focus on first impersons
Twimpersons is how impersons began,
And twimpersons is how they're fulfilled;
When God made both man and woman,
Twimpersons is what he willed.
There may be twimpersons
Sharing the Light,
There may be twimpersons
Starting to fight,
But always twimpersons
Are better than
A lonely imperson...
Because twimpersons is how impersons began.
8 Weeks
Variations On A Classic Theme
Roses are red,
So I'll make you a crown.
To wear on your head,
Not a thorn to be found.
Violets are blue,
Though you'd think they'd be purple. [kind of an inside joke]
I'll give them to you,
So you'll have them, too.
Sugar is sweet,
Even children can tell.
And each time we meet,
Things tend to go well.
And so are you,
You're as sweet as can be.
And not just to me,
To everybody.
That's why I love you.
9 Weeks
As I Am
The people that I used to see,
Expected just one thing from me,
They always wanted me to be
So plain, ordinary.
I gave them what I knew they sought,
I mimicked that which I was not,
And soon I learned just how to be
So plain, ordinary.
Although they told me to excell,
I knew their meaning well,
Although they told me, "always try",
They hoped that I would just comply.
Of course some people weren't the same,
They told me, "play a different game",
But they were wrong in their own claim,
The games weren't different, just the name.
These different ones wanted to see
A "me" of pizzazz and energy-
And though they sang a different song,
They still told me to sing along.
I learned to live under a mask;
To hide my self became my task-
But secretly I longed to be
Me, acting like me.
And then, at last, there was thee-
Who didn't mind ordinary,
Or shy from extraordinary,
Who really only hoped to see
Me, acting like me.
10 Weeks
Why I Write
Why do I write? It seems a silly thing,
To so subject myself to suffering
Committing to a new piece every week-
Am I some sort of masochistic freak?
Is this, at last, some proof that I've gone daft?
Perhaps I'm under some sort of witchcraft?
And if I'm not insane or somehow hexed,
Is there some reason not to be perplexed?
I take the time to write poems for you
Because there is no thing I'd rather do
Than all my woes and cares and fears eschew,
And take some time to think sweet thoughts of you.
My smile I maintain in just that way
By taking time to think of you each day.
11 Weeks
What If
What if tomorrow I forgot to awaken,
And slept on past my last day of sun?
What if, perhaps, I had been mistaken,
In thinking the future would be full of fun?
What if my life, from here on out,
Were always a maelstrom of suffering and woe?
What if my future, now so full of doubt,
Is just full of things I don't want to know?
Our lives can be filled with potential sorrow
If we choose to dread the storms of tomorrow.
Or, we could stand, and brave any weather-
Find silver lining, by standing together.
13 Weeks
Thursdays
I’m far away in distant lands,
But I’m adhering to my plans
And writing on this day.
I think of you each time I can;
I think of ways for us to span
The gap between us on this day.
And then I know, my heart is eased;
And rightly so my soul is pleased:
I know you love me on this day.
And then I hope you, too, rejoice
When you hear my caring voice
Proclaiming “I love you” on this day.
I can’t be near, but don’t dismay,
Somehow we will find a way
And there will always be Thursdays.
(A new poem is composed every Thursday, although it may not be posted here. And I will never double-post.)
1 Week
Be Not Afraid
While walking on a rainbow, I come upon a cloud.
He says to me, "my dear boy, how can you be so loud?
Your voice disturbs the heavens, much, as you cheer aloud-
Why are you in the heavens, and not among the crowd?"
For a moment I stop my walk,
To see the whole thing through;
To the raincloud I start to talk,
To show my point of view.
"Just like Jack and the tall beanstalk,
You fear lest I should go
Far too high and a great door knock,
And wake some giant slow."
"I fear it true, I'm telling you,"
(The black cloud soon replies)
"I hear it said, he rears his head,
And lures with Siren's cries."
"Have you yourself encountered this beast?
Have you e'er heard his cry?
Do you intend to stare at the feast,
Too scared by the shadow to try?
The feast is here, the giant is not
(Nor shall he ever come).
Thank God for this, for all you have got,
For you He sent His Son."
The raincloud smiles and says to me,
"You'd best be on your way,
I seldom see such men as thee,
Your joy I shan't delay."
2 Weeks
This Song Doesn't Have A Proper Title Because The First Thing That Came To Mind When I Tried To Think Of Things That Rhyme With Ritz Was Ditz And I Think You Are Far From Ditzy So I Decided To Use This Really Long Title Instead.
[To the tune of "Puttin' On the Ritz"]
Once I asked a girl a question,
What'd she make of my suggestion?
She said yes... you know the rest!
I hope she is here to stay,
Calls each day- not much to say
That's OK... better that way!
There's no way I ever shall forget her,
To show her I care I'll write a letter (nothin' better!)
One each week to send to her,
Poetry again to her,
Personal mail... without fail!
Half the fun is trying to,
Come up with some thing to do,
Even if it's nothing new,
It's all worth some time with you,
Bad film! It's not a problem!
Burned corn! Nothing rhymes with problem!
To this song there is morel,
I'll crown you with every laurel,
These things I do... are done for you!
3 Weeks
Unfinished
This poem is unfinished,
It's clearly far from done,
But I've no better verse to give
Than this unfinished one.
This poem uncompleted,
I humbly give to you
It's no done yet, but that's because
It is so very new.
It is so new it goes on through
The barriers of time,
The Past, the Now, the Soon, the New-
They all to one combine.
Combine so much, indeed in fact,
I cannot sort them out
What's then was then- or maybe now-
Or yet to come about.
So time is splintered into shards
That sparkle in the sun
They flash, and show, in their slow glow
Things done and things to come.
A certain shard does catch my eye
Much better than the sea
Of other shards that float around
That pic of you and me.
It's you and me, most plain to see
The only question's when-
Is soon the end of things of "we"-
Or did "we" just begin?
It could be from some long time past
This shard within my scope,
It could be from the here and now
Though that is not my hope.
My hope is that it's something yet
To come to pass- what's more
I'ope* piously that you and me
Have much time left in store.
*I hope (one syllable)
4 Weeks
The Month
There are some strange, phantasmal days,
Between July and August-
Though in "dog days", most certainly,
This month is not the doggest.
It is this month that's often blamed
For Summer's quickened pace.
Because, although it's not yet named,
It causes missing days.
It goes on through and never lasts-
I look for it each year
Or else on by me it will pass
And that's something I fear.
The other day I thought about it,
That month which ends so fast
There came a thought, I could not doubt it-
I knew that month had passed.
It had come early, on this year,
-Between both May and June-
And now it's clear, the end is near;
That month is over soon.
It's said times fly when they are fun
And I suppose that's true-
If there's one thing I'm glad I've done,
It's spend that month with you!
5 Weeks
Saying Sorry
To say "I'm sorry" is your reaction
The moment you notice some small infraction
That may be a worry to me.
Though that's well and good
Let it be understood:
Don't worry 'bout sorry 'round me.
When you say "I'm sorry",
And I say "don't worry",
It may seem a fruitless exchange-
But I'm glad to report,
Our words have imports,
When perspective you rearrange.
From a certain perspective
Your apologetic invective
Says simply you want absolution.
From that point of view
When I forgive you
I do so to get restitution,
But those aren't explanations-
Such selfish motivations,
(Or shall I say temptations)
As desiring satiations,
(And other aberrations)
Are neither the foundations,
Nor the creations,
Of healthy relations.
So when you say "I'm sorry",
And then I say "don't worry",
It must be a different story.
When your apologies I hear
I know that it's because you care-
From all that I can tell of you
You hope that I think well of you
And trust me dear, I do.
And when I say with words sincere
"No need to say sorry, my dear",
I say it in order to set you at ease
And not just my own heart to please.
And I forgive, I would not dare
To put on such a haughty air
As to pretend I've nothing to be sorry for
What's more...
There is one thing I'll say to you,
Danielle, I'm sorry, too.
6 Weeks
...Fourth Time's A Charm!
I tried to write something for you
To show you that I care
I tried to make it special, too,
But the words were just not there.
The words are here, inside my heart,
But the pen plays tricks on me-
Four poems now I've tried to start
And I've discarded three.
I said once that I would not
Though saying so made me blue,
I said once that I could not
But now I know that it's untrue,
I said once that I should not
But now I know what I should do.
I was advised to wait and watch and see
Before I said these words to thee
But now I've waited, watched, and seen,
And I still want you to be my queen
Yes I've waited and I've found it's true,
Danielle, I love you!
7 Weeks
Natural Beauty/On Lobsters
Natural beauty- beauty found
In natural things, in nose of hound,
In sweet sing-songs the robins sing
In the delicate flutter of dragonfly's wing
In kitten's purr
In koala's fur
In the first tender flower that follows winter.
Thy beauty is simple and pure-
Thy natural beauty is as a lobster!
A boiled lobster is red and bright
And on thy lips, to my delight,
Is the beauty to which I refer-
The natural beauty of the lobster!
A wondering lobster's a sight to see;
A tribute to your spontenaity.
I never have guessed
What it would do next-
Just as I cannot guess thee!
The lobster's claw is so resolved,
To hold on through thick and through thin;
Through lobster's claws your problems are solved-
You work hard and never give in.
And last but not least, a lobster is hard-
Covered with an outer shell.
But not half as hard
As what vexes this bard-
Making lobsters romantic for my Danielle!
7 Weeks
Persons, Both Im and Twim
I know of a way to look at twirled
And all the hallucinations
Look on past the audacities
Focus on first impersons
Twimpersons is how impersons began,
And twimpersons is how they're fulfilled;
When God made both man and woman,
Twimpersons is what he willed.
There may be twimpersons
Sharing the Light,
There may be twimpersons
Starting to fight,
But always twimpersons
Are better than
A lonely imperson...
Because twimpersons is how impersons began.
8 Weeks
Variations On A Classic Theme
Roses are red,
So I'll make you a crown.
To wear on your head,
Not a thorn to be found.
Violets are blue,
Though you'd think they'd be purple. [kind of an inside joke]
I'll give them to you,
So you'll have them, too.
Sugar is sweet,
Even children can tell.
And each time we meet,
Things tend to go well.
And so are you,
You're as sweet as can be.
And not just to me,
To everybody.
That's why I love you.
9 Weeks
As I Am
The people that I used to see,
Expected just one thing from me,
They always wanted me to be
So plain, ordinary.
I gave them what I knew they sought,
I mimicked that which I was not,
And soon I learned just how to be
So plain, ordinary.
Although they told me to excell,
I knew their meaning well,
Although they told me, "always try",
They hoped that I would just comply.
Of course some people weren't the same,
They told me, "play a different game",
But they were wrong in their own claim,
The games weren't different, just the name.
These different ones wanted to see
A "me" of pizzazz and energy-
And though they sang a different song,
They still told me to sing along.
I learned to live under a mask;
To hide my self became my task-
But secretly I longed to be
Me, acting like me.
And then, at last, there was thee-
Who didn't mind ordinary,
Or shy from extraordinary,
Who really only hoped to see
Me, acting like me.
10 Weeks
Why I Write
Why do I write? It seems a silly thing,
To so subject myself to suffering
Committing to a new piece every week-
Am I some sort of masochistic freak?
Is this, at last, some proof that I've gone daft?
Perhaps I'm under some sort of witchcraft?
And if I'm not insane or somehow hexed,
Is there some reason not to be perplexed?
I take the time to write poems for you
Because there is no thing I'd rather do
Than all my woes and cares and fears eschew,
And take some time to think sweet thoughts of you.
My smile I maintain in just that way
By taking time to think of you each day.
11 Weeks
What If
What if tomorrow I forgot to awaken,
And slept on past my last day of sun?
What if, perhaps, I had been mistaken,
In thinking the future would be full of fun?
What if my life, from here on out,
Were always a maelstrom of suffering and woe?
What if my future, now so full of doubt,
Is just full of things I don't want to know?
Our lives can be filled with potential sorrow
If we choose to dread the storms of tomorrow.
Or, we could stand, and brave any weather-
Find silver lining, by standing together.
13 Weeks
Thursdays
I’m far away in distant lands,
But I’m adhering to my plans
And writing on this day.
I think of you each time I can;
I think of ways for us to span
The gap between us on this day.
And then I know, my heart is eased;
And rightly so my soul is pleased:
I know you love me on this day.
And then I hope you, too, rejoice
When you hear my caring voice
Proclaiming “I love you” on this day.
I can’t be near, but don’t dismay,
Somehow we will find a way
And there will always be Thursdays.