Category: Love

Dog Days

I’m the kind of hound that sniffs
out trouble; waddles through
roses to bury my nose
in excrement and roll in it.

Or is it that betrayal hounds me,
lures me with puppy dog eyes
tail wagging promises of loyalty
tricking my sentimental heart?

More like I’m the mutt begging
for scraps, ear scratching, or
belly rubbings, a canine whore
slutting for any attention.

Failure is a four-legged mangy
beast that caught my scent
long ago, trailed me, whining;
why did I agree to feed it?

No show dog here, just mixed
breed, scrap yard variety mongrel,
digging through the garbage heap
trying to find a dang old bone.

This Is Not Abandonment

I see it in their eyes –
the fear for my safety –
have not been able to paddle
my own boat for some time,
and here I am contemplating
going against the current,
taking a leap, seeking out
new sheltered places.

Survival is risky, they say –
risk is necessary if we’re ever
going to shake this malaise –
no explanation will appease them,
cannot understand the empowerment
that comes from discovering other realities –
promise to stay away from danger –
there are waterways, lands, mountains
to explore – this is not betrayal.

It is moving on, effective collaboration,
we will get along, disclose our differences,
have found willing transport, please
understand, children, we will work
this out, need to create a new reality –
one that allows for relaxation,
celebration – there is nothing left here
but a legacy of suffering, our absence
doesn’t mean our hearts are missing –
our love will be forever present.

(Image: artimagesfrom.com)

Unexpected Guest

An unexpected guest –
invited by a spouse –
sends a wife grasping,
stretching, unsettled
by sequence of events.

She has rattled around
this oversized ranch of
a house, treasured the
rapid upward mobility,
covered up insecurities,

believed their marriage
to be respectable, now
waking up to his secret
tries to calm anxiety by
downplaying interludes

outside the marital bed,
but upstairs the other
has claimed a presence,
her scheming husband
temporarily committed.

Does she keep the secret
or make it public; shatter
their privacy, tear children
from their father, or exist –
convince herself it’s not

real, is over with, sleep
in separate quarters,
hold onto the luxury,
live with what is, try
to keep heart in home?

She can’t handle it
anymore, hindsight
progressing, comfort
no longer valid, risks
losing children, too

weary minded to care,
wondering how she’d
missed the significance
of her husband bringing
home an uninvited guest.
(Image: divorcesupport.about.com)

Time to Re-Parent

Taking ownership of this mess
I call life, creates a priority of
care – a surrogate for the inner
sapling, not too motherly, just
accepting; to lead her past the
overpopulated vines of despair,
root out evil, restore the good –
a kindred spirit to ease her little
soul – no officious, insecure, put-
me-down parent, but dedicated,
motivational re-schooling, able
to fulfill needs, entertain, assist
in uncovering substance, insure
she has meaning to latch onto.

To help you find direction, Child,
I will tend to your needs, honour
the artistry of your growing mind –
a brilliance to nurture – encourage
flights of fancy: never fear pushing
boundaries of conventional thought  –
offer you strength of connection,
value your courage, prod hard work,
allow for wildness, questioning;
teach you not to quit before miracle
happens, demonstrate that life is
opportunity,  that character will be
tested, and that  comfort can be
found in the spiritual – deliverance
is possible – above all to know that
you are loved, nurtured, valued and
together, through it all, we will prevail.

(Image from private collection)

Worth is a Birthright

Do not grovel,
sweep floors, carry
out garbage, debase values
just for the attention
of another;

no more than
bear, grizzled and
battered, whose nature
defies formerly
coveted

notions of
romance; hoping
to find a modicum of
understanding
kind word

recognition.
Don’t be a captive,
a bride wannabe toting
leathers and chains
wild hairdo

waiting
on mainstream
betrothal, enduring love.
Do not kidnap,
imprison

reverse roles
blame, bully, cramp
obligations, compartmentalize
your hunger, lose
coherency.

Be free,
adopt a persona
of abundance, share fullness
of your gifts,
stay true.

(Image: dict.space.4goo.net)

Goddess Love

Father’s voice is booming
full of patronizing shame;
the child cowers in fright
turns the negativity inwards.

Learns to doubt, to loathe –
self and others – pulls away,
adapts pig-headed criticism
finds failure in every effort.

 Mother’s voice is soothing
encourages self-reliance,
acknowledges individuality,
invites discernment, assures

the child that smart doubts
are useful, and that owning
the wrath of another only
disables brilliance; coaxes

relaxation, counsels that
outcomes are not based
on judgments of others, but
the results of determination.

Patriarchy instills a sense
of disappointment, begets
a cycle of insecurity intent
only on sabotaging progress. 

Matriarchy has no agenda, no
use for disapproval, beholds
all life as sacred, exceptional:
to shine, the birthright of all.

 

 

 

The Narcissist’s Argument

My wife stayed up all night,
waited for my sisters arrival;
told her they would get here
when they get here, but still
she remained vigilant – would
rather lose sleep than let go.

Cooked them a late night
meal, even though I told her
one is watching her figure
and the other precise in her
tastes – no way she could
please them, so why bother.

She worries, my wife, about
being perfect, being accepted;
she’ll never have the polish
of my upbringing or light a
candle to women in my family
and quite frankly, embarrasses

herself trying – I’d rather she
be a mouse, wait until I tell
her to act, let my sisters take
charge, stop trying to pretend
she is good enough, just worry

about fetching my dinners,
finishing the ironing, and
getting on with the children –
I am a busy man.  Makes her
angry though, if I say so; snips
at me as if it’s all my fault –

I didn’t ask her to do it – she
wants  me to talk to my siblings,
tell them she’s burdened as it is,
ask them to find a hotel – such
nonsense; such a bitter woman,

my wife, impossible to please,
always trying to control the
situation, complaining no one
else will help her – and who can
blame them; who wants to be
around that; that’s why I need

you, my dear,  so agreeable, lovely,
you lift my heart; give me hope –
thought about you all night, wished
you were there to fill up the empty
space beside me; know that we can
make each other forever happy.

(image from: galleryhip.com)

 

Conflict of Peace

We are peacemakers,
declaring commitment;
celebrating life, diversity.

We stand at the water’s edge,
contemplate forever, pray for
serenity, believe in harmony.

Watch as past dalliances,
like old lovers, drift away,
become memories forgotten.

We are supporters, lift up
the down trodden, extend
hearts and hands in aid.

Rescuers, fearless vessels
surfing the ocean of tears
saving lives for the cause.

Withdrawal is preferential
to conflict, introspective
in our peace-loving stance.

We are hosts, expecting
hospitality, unprepared
for hostility, taken aback

Submission lost to fear;
partnering with revenge
spoon out poison, turn

the tables, defend sanctity,
reposition selves as victims
flee our former stance; attack.

Alarmists engage in paranoia,
see only turbulent skies at
the water’s edge, disbelieve

We must hold fast to ideals,
embrace humanity’s potential
be responders, not reactors

Recover our sanctity, reunite
in a vision of peace, remember
that celebration trumps strife.

(Image: marketplace.secondlife.com)

Strike Out

I would stand on my head,
call in the big leagues,
imagine fun, opportunity,

but constantly meet with
the wall of your limitations.

My desire is innocent – impish
maybe – dependable; hope to
create memorable moments,

but boredom is oppressive,
and you are shutting me out.

I am alone here, hoop jumping,
giving of myself, willing to take
ownership in this rejection play

but relationship is not one-sided
and this game piece is opting out.

th-2

Checked Out

Every woman needs a man,
her mother told her, to make
her complete.  To submit,

she realizes, too late, soul
traded for high-rise living,
big city dreams numbing

inner losses; she eats to
appease an inner sorrow,
a second-rate childhood,

afraid of being a burden,
loathe to create a stir,
conditioned complacency:

appeasing, pleasing, follows
plans, avoids decisions, never
really knows where she is going.

Can she fault the man, schooled
to provide – the alpha male taking
ownership/ charge?  His child

lives here too, feeds on impulses,
craves attention, overcompensates
for fears of lacking with bravado;

cannot understand why she never
asserts her self, alternately reads
acceptance and disapproval, frets –

an eternally unsettled gnawing gut.
They stumble over one another, seek
separation in small quarters, discuss

repairmen, schedules – nothing;
avoid deeper issues like the fact
that they are both suffocating, near

jumping off the ledge of their high
faluting existence, into the snarl
of traffic that immobilizes them.

The noise of city living has negated
their ability to listen, the distractions
altered them; the distance between

is too far to bridge in a single sigh,
and she, no longer submissive,
has joined him, and checked out.