Me and My Best Friend

As you may have noticed, my readers, I have not been posting much since the end of NaPoWriMo. I am still very much involved in creating poetry, art, and the like, but some other big things are happening in my personal life right now that are demanding my attention.

 

I will soon be getting married to my best friend. We do have a bit of a fairy tale romance. We met in college more than twenty-five years ago and have been friends all this time. Last summer, we had a conversation that changed the direction of both our lives. We’d both been dating and hating it – all the getting-to-know-you stuff, the desire to be loved and to love, the awkwardness of the early phases of dating. We finally realized that the only reason we hadn’t dated each other was simply geographic in nature. We currently live six hours apart (by car obeying all posted speed limits). 

We began dating last August and from that very first date, I began falling in love with my best friend. We had the kind of comfort with each other that only comes from knowing one another for so many years. Neither of us felt the need to try to impress the other. We were just ourselves. For the first time in my life, I was able to let all the walls down because I was out with a man that I trusted. All of the pieces began falling into place. My children love him. My parents love him (a FIRST for me). Most importantly, I love him. He is that missing link that I’ve been searching for and I could not be happier. 

As I mentioned, we will be getting married soon. The date is a secret for now, but it will be happening before too much longer. I have already resigned from my job here as a public school teacher and am packing up my belongings to move the six hours northeast to live with him. For the next several weeks, I expect to be busy (overwhelmed?) with the process of planning, packing, and moving. I will attempt to make regular posts here to keep you, my reader, informed and perhaps entertained with tales along the journey. 

For now, peace and love to all - 

MeMe

Summer Romance

**This is a poem I wrote in February, 2010, while at the NC Center for the Advancement of Teaching. The final lines are from Adrienne Rich’s poem “Diving into the Wreck”. The initial image came from a free-write that we did while exploring a teenage memory. The story that emerges had a life all its own! (This was originally posted on this site in October, 2010.)

Deep, dark tans require long hours

Of soaking up the sun while

Covered in thick layers of coconut oil.

Like bees to honey

The teenage boys are attracted to the scent.

A boy carrying a beer meets a girl carrying a camera and

A trashy novel in which his name appears.

And lust – or maybe even love – run rampant

On the sandy shores.

That’s how we met – you and I

On that steamy, sweaty Saturday in June.

And here we are today

On this chilly November Tuesday

A lifetime of beachfront memories

Windblown and weak

From the hurricanes of life.

We are, I am, You are

By cowardice and courage

The ones who find our way back to this scene

Carrying a knife, a camera, a book of myths

In which our names do not appear.

The Day after NaPoWriMo…

…was a quiet day at my house. I was exhilarated that I was able to complete NaPoWriMo and took a moment to sit back and reflect on some of what I’d written. I began asking myself, “What next?”

My question was answered when I went to the mailbox that afternoon. My next project had arrived.

I was surprised to see how small the sketchbook actually is. It’s smaller than the books I’ve used as art journals before. I set the sketchbook on my table and left it there. And it’s been there taunting me ever since, daring me to mark it up. But mark it up, I will! And I will document this journey into my “art” here. Buckle up – it’s going to be another roller coaster ride!

My Schizophrenic Soundtrack

** To close out NaPoWriMo, I had the thought to write a poem composed entirely of song titles. Now, understand that I only used song titles of music I actually listen to. They cross the spectrum of musical genres – hence, the title that I selected. For you music nerds (like me), I hope you recognize many of the tunes I have chosen. I will not disclose at this time the actual number of songs in my poem. Feel free to make a guess, though!

On another note, this month has been an amazing journey. I have become addicted to the process of writing something every day beyond my daily private journals. While I may not post something here every day in the future, I will be continuing to write poetry, prose, and fiction to share with you, my dear readers. Thank you for stopping by and letting me know that you were here. It has been an honor to share with you! Now – on with the poem…

I stand on the highway to hell and it sucks to be me.

In my life, I’ve been the best imitation of myself

But everywhere I go I find I’m better than I used to be.

I heard I was in town and turned a whiter shade of pale.

It’s not the same and I blame it on Kristofferson.

He went to Paris, livin’ on a prayer, and said forget you!

You’re outta your mind if you don’t express yourself

And go your own way.

I used to be the owner of a lonely heart,

But come Monday, I’m leaving on a jet plane.

I have two tickets to paradise.

We were born free, so let’s set fire to the rain.

Here we go – let’s dream on, my daydream believer!

Let’s grab time in a bottle and drink on it.

We can have one bourbon, one scotch, one beer,

And a tequila sunrise in Margaritaville.

After all, it’s five o’clock somewhere!

You’re somebody that I used to know, but I know better now.

There ain’t no other man, so I turn to you and nothing else matters.

All I need is you and a little afternoon delight just rolling in the deep.

The way that you love me has me addicted to love.

Come home to me, wild thing.

Let it be me at last.

Bring me to life – walk this way

And take me down by the lazy river.

Take it to the limit when the stars burn down

And marry me

Because my life would suck without you.

That’s the story of my life.

NaPoWriMo Haiku

Poetry writing
For thirty days in a row
Unblocks the writer.

Broken Pieces of Me

** For Patrick

 

I never knew that it could be like this

It took 25 years to get to our first kiss

When we first met we were too young to know

All we had to learn, the paths we’d have to go

Who would’ve known that it would take

A Facebook threat and a bottle of Cake

Never thought I deserved a man like you

I wasn’t good enough, but you’ve changed my view

I love you enough that now I can see

You love the broken pieces of me.

Cello Haikus

**Clearly, my listening habits of late are bleeding over into my writing. Here’s hoping there are other cello lovers out there!

Classical cello

has a soothing and mellow

tone that calms the soul.

Metal cello rocks,

Making the heart race, building

to an ear-gasm!

A Chain of Creation

**We are less than a month away from the season 9 premiere of my favorite television series, So You Think You Can Dance. This is a good time for a look at the process of choreography and the poetry in motion that is dance…

Words are just the beginning.

A well-turned phrase

A superb metaphor or two

Strung together in rhythm

And sometimes rhyme

And a poem is born.

Poetry is just the beginning.

Lyrics overlay a catchy melody

Inventive harmonies and instrumentation

Composed with coordinating rhythm

Or sometimes syncopation

And a song is born.

A song is just the beginning

Music inspires athletic movement

Turns and lines strung together

Choreographed precisely

Or sometimes improvised

And a dance is born.

Solace Under a Tree

***Inspired by the daily prompt at http://www.napowrimo.net with apologies to – in order of appearance – Hardy, Yeats, Frost, Blake, Frost (again), Poe, Mansfield, and Wordsworth.

Moving alone, bare-browed 

Bring me to the blasted oak 

Thereafter I sat me against a tree. 

My mother taught me underneath a tree,

“Anything more than the truth would have seemed too weak.”

Thy soul shall find itself alone.

It is always there, singing most silently.

I sit upon this old grey stone and dream my time away. 

A Boy’s Mother

**This poem is dedicated to the memory of two moms lost in the past two days.

There is nothing more pure

Than a son’s love for his mother.

To him, she’s a woman

That is like no other.

She held him and fed him

And showered him with love.

In his mind there’s no doubt

She’s a gift from above.

God in His infinite

Wisdom has made

A woman whose love

Could never be swayed.

Through childhood skinned knees

And a teen’s broken heart,

She helped dry his tears,

Helped him make a fresh start.

She taught him the difference

Between right and wrong.

Through her example of gentleness

He learned to be strong.

She held on with grace

Until her very last breath,

And now this dear lady

Knows the secret of death.

She’ll still be there, though,

With her angel wings wide

Standing forever

By her dear son’s side.

She’ll hug him with breezes

And kiss him with rain.

He’ll thank God that finally

She’s no longer in pain.

He’ll walk proudly on

With his head held up high

And know he is still

The apple of her eye.