sarah-dulek
American
I'm a first grade teacher and volleyball coach in Kansas City. I haven't written much poetry but am eager to write more and am inspired always. Most of my writing thus far has been for Intermission magazine for the Tulsa Performing Arts Center and for myself: justabrowneyedgirl.wordpress.com.
Vous et nuis autre
Dans mon couer
Pour toujours et a jamais
May 2, 2012
May 2, 2012 at 12:13 PM UTC
We need to talk.
It’s not you.
It’s us.
I just think
We were made for each other.
And I know
We both want the same things.
You want a big family
And I want to be the mother of your children.
It just makes sense.
I love you.
And I’m in love with you.
Please don’t make this
Any harder for me
Than it already is.
I’m ready to make a commitment.
I want to marry you
And make you
The happiest man on earth.
So I guess this is
Just the beginning.
Feb 9, 2012
Feb 9, 2012 at 10:19 PM UTC
Aboard the cruise ship,
About the sun deck
Above our state room,
Across the promenade,
After seeking some shade,
Against my better judgment,
Along the railing,
Among the tourists,
Around midday,
At a loss for words.
Before, I felt you
Behind my neck,
Below my deck,
Beneath my fingertips,
Beside my birthing hips,
Between my open lips.
Beyond my reach now,
But I feel you somehow
By my side.
Despite the spinning
Down in my gut
During sea travel,
Except when I’m dizzy
For whatever reason,
From the nausea,
In my mind and
Inside my heart I’m
Into you. Completely.
Feb 9, 2012
Feb 9, 2012 at 10:05 PM UTC
"That's not you.
You always said
You'd lose it to
Your spouse instead.
"That's not you.
I'm so surprised.
Changing your view
Seems ill-advised.
"That's not you."
That judgy voice.
"I'm worried, too.
But it's your choice."
"But this is me!" I want to scream.
More me than I've ever shown.
"But this is love!" is what I mean.
More love than I've ever known.
Jan 4, 2012
Jan 4, 2012 at 3:59 PM UTC
I used to eat oatmeal.
I heard it was nutritious,
Good for the heart.
It tasted too bland.
I tried spicing it up,
Adding some sugar.
But oatmeal was boring.
I was too conservative,
Stuck in a routine.
I went out for breakfast.
I wanted something new,
To treat myself.
Today I ate cinnamon roll French toast.
It was hot, indulgent, rich,
More like a dessert.
But pastries for breakfast?
I can’t have that every day,
Just in moderation.
Well, why can’t I?
Couldn’t I find something to look forward to every morning?
Couldn’t I actually enjoy eating breakfast?
Is it responsible to indulge?
Is it exciting to be healthy?
Does it have to be one or the other?
I consulted my heart.
I couldn’t hear her advice,
My stomach was grumbling.
Dec 1, 2011
Dec 1, 2011 at 12:00 AM UTC