(Group III)
Marriage
Carousel Dreams
After Tasting Death
Self Divided
Ouichita
Only What We Are
Why?
A Kiss and a Promise
Taboo
Sonnet XXXII
Marriage
For richer or poorer?
For better or worse?
In sickness and in health?
Until death do us part?
Marriage as it is
and as it should be
can be differentiated
with simple punctuation.
Trade all those question marks
for explanation points.
Marriage is a piece of paper.
Love is an explanation point.
And it goes something like this:
If we live in a high rise condo
and the rat race causes you stress,
I'll patiently wait until you're ready
and then I'll ease your stress away.
If we fall into a valley
of financial loss,
I'll stand proudly at your side,
knowing that sooner or later
things will start to look brighter.
Those great big tests
come in the first few years;
We'll get through them
because we ARE love.
And when everything seems
to be going well,
I won't forget to treat you
like I know good times
don't last forever --
humbling myself
in the midst of our blessings.
If you are ill,
I'll stay at your side,
holding your hand
and holding up our home.
When we're in good health,
I'll take care of what we have
so that we'll have strength
to overcome.
And if you die before I do,
I'll live on courageously,
knowing I'll see you again.
I found my greatest love to be
right here inside of me
when I left it all behind
and set the songbird free
to dance playfully in the rain
alone, but not in pain
waiting for the perfect mate
to sweetly sing my name.
Carousels have always
held a special place
in my dreams.
Those lights --
They dance so colorfully
around the two of us;
We are lost in one another
in still, quiet moments
while the world spins on around us.
While merry-go-rounds
hold a bitter place
in my memories;
He stood out there
in a world that seemed so contented,
so still, and left me all alone inside --
spinning out of control
until I was sickened by the motion.
I found my greatest love to be
right here inside of me
when I left it all behind
and set the songbird free.
My perch on the carnival gate,
the perfect place to wait --
I stand watch for him to come,
my sweet carousel mate.
I'll sit sideways on a pelican's back.
He'll take the big white horse beside me.
We'll let go of the reigns
and ride away
into carousel dreams
and dancing playfully
in the rain.
But for today:
I have found
my greatest love to be
that which exists
inside this songbird
and my carousel dreams --
I've walked through the ditches
flooded by dead men's tears,
survived crimes of passion;
death knocked at my door.
I woke to the sound of thunder
crashing through my bones,
gave up on anything they call magic,
and chose only to believe
in illusion and power unseen.
Many millions desire but to envision
things I've seen with my own eyes,
and do so without even knowing
it is beyond their own mystical dreams.
I've become immune
to the opinions of others,
though I do desire, always, to please,
for daily persecution leaves me
to disregard pointing fingers,
unknowing knowing stares.
Though thick crimson blood
pumps itself through my purple veins,
my past is so not pretty,
and I walk on the same soil as does any other,
I know I'm set apart;
I don't belong here,
having defeated death and found life
to be full of unexpected surprise,
daily renewed.
Though my soul abides
on the banks of rivers
rushing between the rolling
Oklahoma hills,
my heart lives
deep in Texas plains,
captured by six big brown
and two blue
puppy dog eyes.
And yet,
my spirit dwells
in the secret place
of the Most High
where peace surpasses
anything I may have found
on the peaks
of pine-covered
blue mountains
The following poem was written while sitting in the midst of Ouichita (pronounced War-shi-taw) National Forest just outside Broken Bow, Oklahoma.
The song of the whippoorwill whispers in the distance.
Pine grows dense and Mimosa, wild.
I allow myself, despite the resistance,
to recall the heart of a child.
The soil, a soft shade of rust, may be so by my blood
spilled and painting it red with pain.
But it sure feels like the breath of scarlet mud
pours out on me in cleansing rain.
The following poem was written for the “Taboo” romance poetry contest.
T olerated easily by her company,
A ccepted despite her past,
B anned forever from the world outside,
O stracized for simply being misunderstood,
O bliterated like yesterday’s newspaper,
Her name - Sanctioned
She is the definition of inhibition; the shy
young lady receives favor
in triple portion
for the restrictions she places
on herself; she prospers,
though not with money,
in ways the world cannot fathom.
You would fare well
to know and love her
as she differs so
from those around her.
The following poem was written for a poetry contest in which the challenge was to write a poem that resembled one written by a famous poet. I chose ‘Sonnet XXXII’ by William Shakespeare.
