There is an imprint of a frog on my back
From a poem by Mary Oliver.
It is sticky sweat oozing down my spine,
Leaking into the small of my back
Screaming, "You do not have to be good."
My own skin whispers back,
"But don't I?" and sears the grime.
I don't know what to do with my own badness.
Punishment for my "sins" seems necessary,
But so does radical acceptance.
All I can do is close my eyes,
Hoping for a better tomorrow where
My brain requires less dopamine
And more compassion.
Slowly I will rise from the grave I dig once a night.
I will claw my way out by my fingers
And into the light.
Shame that no one will be near
To see the resurrection.
I lived a lifetime,
In your temporary presence.
Independent & free,
You unarmed me from my weapons.
It wasn't just a summer fling,
The memories are now a stain,
I regret we never said I love you but..
Happy, I got to hear you call me by your name.
-Elio to Oliver
Wrote my rendition of Elio's incomplete romance after Oliver's departure in 'Call me by your name'.
Every scene of this movie holds a special place in my heart.
The heartbreak, the love, the sensuality, the acceptance- love every bit of it.
Oliver's smiley eyes are captivatingly beautiful,
It was amazing not because of its cuteness,
But because of the words they hold WITHIN.
Oliver is one in a million,
He has a warm kindered heart,
A cheerful spirit and a pleasing soul.
Oliver has an overabundent love,
A type of love which is unexplainable,
To those who have, yet to experience it.
Oliver, we will live without worry,
Never angry, slow to judge, and
Graduate together with full of love.
Just like peacful as a dove,
Oliver is a love.
I'm sorry for sleeping early. Ay-ayaten ka ☹️❤️🌻
The fluidity of words
Consecrating more than
A simple idea
Has slipped away
And what’s left are
Empty hands and
Void of sophistication
I was seduced
in Barnes & Noble,
lured to the poetry section
next to coffee and pastries
I touched her Blue Iris,
fondled her Red Bird
and recounted why
she wakes to watch
the early sunrise
She looked better than I remembered
in a brown jacket
with a striking
emblem of a bear
on the front
She took me to her tent
and told me of turtles, toads,
and her fear
of ridding her garden
of a small harmless snake
I spill my passion
on the beach’s sand — our bed for now
Under her cover
she shares phrases,
of sweet new perceptions
We are intimate beyond belief
through her verbal kisses
which bring sweat to my palms
I’m high, hallucinating
my drug of choice
I’m having an affair
with Mary Oliver
I am re-posting this in light of the recent death of Mary Oliver. I miss her
Time floats away but there’s no regret
I’ve read verses of trees, of hope, of contentment
I shed a tear, or more, words can have that effect
I am blessed with your gift of words
You were granted death
My thoughts are sad but light, you lived a full and grateful life
Your departing year matched my arrival
I hope for your future, spread on wings
And you feel light breeze among those beloved trees
For Mary Oliver
"The Spirit Likes to Dress Up...
...to be understood,
to be more than pure light
where no one is —
so it enters us —"
I think God feels the same way. So do I.
She understood the glories of physical life.