Poem: Merry Christmas, Goodbye

Many years ago, I was very much in love with someone.  For reasons I'll probably never quite understand, it didn't work out.  My heart was broken, and it felt like my life was over.  Had it not been for an appropriately-timed radio commercial, it might have been.  Writing this poem helped me to work through some of that pain. The good news is that today I'm married to an absolutely wonderful, beautiful woman who treats me with more respect, love, understanding, and consideration than I ever thought possible.

Christmas

With shaky nerves, I grab the phone.
It's cold and snowy here alone.
I fight the shivers, walk in place.
Thinking only of your face.
The number dialed, a distant ring.
Your smiling voice, the only warming thing.
I ask if we can work it out.
You say no, it's over now.
You'll see him soon, you leave tomorrow.
In your voice I hear no sorrow.
Two great years gone, what will I do?
There's just no focus without you.
If it wasn't this time of year,
And my family wasn't here,
I'd end it now to kill this pain.
And you'd still board that plane.

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Poem: Friends

This is a poem I wrote over 20 years ago in high school, about two
good friends who seemed to be constantly competing with one
another.  Though I intended no offense by it, I don't think they
liked it much...

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Poem: Night, I Welcome Thee

I guess I've pretty much always been a night owl.  This poem, written when I was in high school, sums up how I felt about the night in those days.

Night, I Welcome Thee!

Night, I welcome thee!
Thy cover is a blanket,
It hides my doubts
And smothers my fears.

I am debted indeed to thee, dear night,
For, in thy domain, my dreams unfold.
My pains subside.
I am whole.

I need not the harsh, bright day.
It blinds my heart and burns my soul.
I need the courage brought by sleep
To rise and face each morn.

So thanks to thee, from me, dear night,
My friend,
I love you most of all.
I'll need you 'til the bitter end
To catch me when I fall.

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Poem: Kyra at Two

The above was written on 01/01/97 about a young child (not my own) with whom I apparently spent too much time...



Kyra at Two
In silence and shyness she greets at the door,
A tender young thing, almost two, but not more.
Her shyness is fleeting, as soon I will see.
"Pick her up!" will come words directed at me.
The shyness now gone, she's very much bolder,
Barking out orders like "Sarge" to the soldier.
"This way," she directs me, pointing ahead,
Handing me books that at once must be read.
"Put her in!" "Get her out!" "Sit down, Mike, sit down!"
Each delay in compliance creating a frown.
Could I argue? Refuse? Well, I could, I suppose...
But what else would I do, and where else would I go?
Where a life that starts this way will lead, I can't say.
Will she learn something useful from games that we play?
What will Kyra decide that her life's all about?
I haven't a clue, but it's fun finding out!

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