Friday, 28 September 2012

"Virgin Territory" and "Company"

I finally figured out what I found so funny the other day as I read my old notebook (and folder leaves - remember those?) of poems. It was the kind of feather that knocks you over when you think, "Look at what I was intent on getting, when God had so much more in mind for me?!"  This is not the same as "What was I possibly thinking?" Because, I knew what I was thinking.  I was thinking that I was in love. And, I'm not about to make fun of my younger-in-love self. But, just looking at what I thought was "the best thing, ever!" even asking God whether He was sure He could "top this", I just laugh right out loud given my 20/20 hindsight.  Yeah, each of whom I thought was "The One", was, clearly, at best "The Two".

After the laughs, I smile.  I reflect just a tad on how things were and I'm either glad that it happened or glad that it is over.  Most of all, I'm glad I had put it into words.  Here now, from me at 20: "Virgin Territory" and at 21: "Company".

Virgin Territory

Recently, all my thoughts of you
Have flowed from tears.
Salty, burning, irritating water
That springs from a bleeding heart.

Why do you cause me so much pain?
I thought by now I'd have refrained
From wishing to be near you,
Desiring with every nerve and sinew
To be loved by you again.

Cause me joy.  Cause me laughter.
Cause me to be happy ever after
You tell me that you have to go.
I feel empty without you so

I'm going to wallow in this
My pity of self!
Weep and sob
Until the knob
Of the door is turned
Inviting me 
Into peaceful, virgin territory.

- Dnafcnatgada


My most beautiful moments
Have been with you
Under a black velvet sky - 
By the sea - 
You, my dreams and me.

With your laughter
You share the music of my heart
The rhythms of my soul,
All that I've longed for
To have and to hold...

On to your thoughts
That you share with me.
You touch. I feel.
There's more to meeting 

My most beautiful moments
Sharing our laughter, our thoughts
With the wind. By the sea.
You, my dreams and me.

 - Dnafcnatgada

Tuesday, 18 September 2012

"Sand in My Shorts"

The poetry continues.  Quite frankly, "It never ends!" (Over the Hedge)

I read The Haunting at the lit cafe on Sunday.  (As a "brawta" I did I Can Dream.)  As I read, I felt comfortable.  It was a delightful almost-seven minutes.  I'd like to do it again.  A small group had gathered at the Moonshine Cafe in Oakville. And, they kept their word :-)  Reading and listening to poetry inside that literary cafe drew the probability of my being a published poet that much closer.  It was...inspiring, y'know?  I know.  I use that word here a lot - for the same reason spelled out in the phrase that I also use here a lot: "Sometimes, you just need to be inspired."

The poem I'm about to share was written when I was 21.  Gonna be honest.  I was looking through this worn and torn book of poems, reading and re-reading and, I just found myself laughing out loud. For a few of them, I had to compose myself to continue. Of course I'm not laughing at the idea of my younger self in love. That couldn't be it...Nah!  I'll work on it.  I have a theory but, more anon.

Here now:

Sand in My Shorts

You took me from my dream
Into your reality.
Everything that I've ever hoped for
You handed to me
Under a star-spangled platter
Then, nothing else seemed to matter
But your sharing my fantasy
That dream which you had now

And, in your eyes
I saw you doubting
Whether or not my love was mounting.
And I closed my eyes
And loved you

Hoping for no hurting retorts
While I had sand
In the folds of my shorts.

- Dnafcnatgada

Saturday, 8 September 2012

"I Can Dream"

Later this month I'm scheduled to read my poem, The Haunting, at a literary cafe, somewhere in the universe.  While publicly reading my poem is not a new thing for me, publicly reading my poem, after a twenty-plus-year hiatus, is. I have been assured that they won't bite; that they will be welcoming.  I take them at their word.

In the spirit of the resurrection - the quickening, if you will - of this dimension of my life, I shall be sharing a few poems this month.  Today's piece, written by me at 17-yo, is entitled:  I Can Dream.  Signing it with my name that's "only for the poetry" and, again, I'll try to resist the urge of my 40-something self to edit.

I Can Dream

Maybe you won't hold me tight
As often as I want you to.
Maybe you won't kiss my lips
My face, my neck
As I long for you to do.
Maybe you won't tell me that you love me
As often as every day
But, I can dream about
These things, and more,
While you are away.

I can dream that we're on
A moonlit beach
Somewhere in the dark
Or, that we're taking lovely pictures
By the river, in the park.
Or, better yet, we're holding hands
Walking toward the sunset.
And, we're laughing at a joke of yours
Walking toward the sunset.

But, these dreams are no more
Than what they are, just fantasies
And sometimes help to ease the pain
Of not tasting the realities.
They're things you can hold on to
And make them last much longer
Than realities that come and go,
Making your longing stronger.

-- Dnafcnatgada