"infrequent" poems
Robert Frost once talked of taking the ‘road less travelled’.
Well, I didn’t.
When the time came, I blindly went and took the safest road.
A very long path where the pitfalls were plenty.
I stumbled in the bracken. Stymied by the darkness that fell quickly as I ambled along.
The soul bruised, battered and exhausted at every infrequent stop.
It was not apparent then that in this venture there was a bleak dead end ahead.
I plowed on even though something inside was telling me again and again to turn back.
But, slowly, a gleaming light of hope crossed my vista beckoning me home.
I crawled. My strength regained as the light intensified.
Then the end was in sight - the portal was within grasp.
And so, yes, I now take that road less travelled.
Standing tall and proud as I gleefully stride down its glowing thoroughfare.
Smiling at the diverse and playful changes that cross my pathway.
All told, it’s never too late to trust your instincts and make a difference.
Just ask me.
And Robert Frost.
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 5:41 PM UTC
Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can completely turn your world around. You tell them things that you've never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you say and actually want to hear more. You share hopes for the future, dreams that will never come true, goals that were never achieved and the many disappointments life has thrown at you. When something wonderful happens, you can't wait to tell them about it, knowing they will share in your excitement. They are not embarrassed to cry with you when you are hurting or laugh with you when you make a fool of yourself. Never do they hurt your feelings or make you feel like you are not good enough, but rather they build you up and show you the things about yourself that make you special and even beautiful. There is never any pressure, jealousy or competition but only a quiet calmness when they are around. You can be yourself and not worry about what they will think of you because they love you for who you are. The things that seem insignificant to most people such as a note, song or walk become invaluable treasures kept safe in your heart to cherish forever. Memories of your childhood come back and are so clear and vivid, it's like being young again. Colors seem brighter and more brilliant. Laughter seems part of daily life where before it was infrequent or didn't exist at all. A phone call or two during the day helps to get you through a long day's work and always brings a smile to your face. In their presence, there's no need for continuous conversation, but you find you're quite content in just having them nearby. Things that never interested you before become fascinating because you know they are important to this person who is so special to you. You think of this person on every occasion and in everything you do. Simple things bring them to mind like a pale blue sky, gentle wind or even a storm cloud on the horizon. You open your heart knowing that there's a chance it may be broken one day and in opening your heart, you experience a love and joy that you never dreamed possible. You find that being vulnerable is the only way to allow your heart to feel true pleasure that's so real, it scares you. You find strength in knowing you have a true friend and possibly a soul mate who will remain loyal to the end. Life seems completely different, exciting and worthwhile. Your only hope and security is in knowing that they are a part of your life."
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 10:44 AM UTC
the slime of all my yesterdays
rots in the hollow of my skull
and if my stomach would contract
because of some explicable phenomenon
such as pregnancy or constipation
I would not remember you
or that because of sleep
infrequent as a moon of greencheese
that because of food
nourishing as violet leaves
that because of these
and in a few fatal yards of grass
in a few spaces of sky and treetops
a future was lost yesterday
as easily and irretrievably
as a tennis ball at twilight
8.4k
It's difficult to explain and hard for you to understand, but maybe you'll see. I visually perceive you, I felt a good feeling inside. Like a hope to the mess I go through. You're one of the most infrequent things that can make me endeavor a smile. It takes an abundance amount of energy to even arouse and commence moving. You're my motivation to keep going.
I like you for many reasons
Immensely colossal and minute. They're amazing because they're amazing to me. I like you not because of your qualities. I like you for the things you do that brings something special to my life. I like you that you care for me and push me to do better. I like you just because I do. Because now In the deepest part of my heart, a place where there was nothing before, there is something now...You
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 9:57 AM UTC
My brother-in-law is the tightly wound sort.
Self contained in his miserable way.
Always quick with a quip or a nasty retort,
and, most likely, a miserable lay.
His job unfulfilling, his woman unwilling.
His co-workers thought he was gay.
He labored long hours for his indifferent masters
for infrequent raises in pay.
When he defenestrated his co worker Sally
and police asked me, what could I say?
" It's always the quiet ones
you have to watch out for-
I knew this would happen someday."
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 9:01 PM UTC
“I don't know how to take this
I don't see why he moves me
He's a man, he's just a man
And I've had so many men before
In very many ways
He's just one more“
<•>
ladies
you know ~ I know
these lyrics and the deep cut
and the familiar rut,
they unsecret in our inner chambers
and there is no bandage to
rip off, which/why the cut
never heals
despite your careful care to never
actively seek out the
irritant
but it finds you
in a rom-com
a particular intersection
a advertisement for half zip sweaters
when saying no to a
particular restaurant automatically
and the emotional shake,
not a smoothie,
part horseradish sweet sad,
part bitter herbs, tasteless bread,
spiced with a blend of
angry, self-loathing, regret,
and rage that your emotions
abduct your composure,
and that it still happens
way too often
a pale of regret,
that it was a lost chance,
the kind that come more infrequent,
and you mourn
the building up inside,
an intolerance for risk taking
which once
was your
most favorite
single characteristic
you liked,
about yourself
Dec 21, 2024
Dec 21, 2024 at 3:07 PM UTC
I really want to thank you.
Whether I'm being sarcastic or not,
You'll never know.
I feel like every time I write something,
It's for someone to read.
Spooky government guys,
Or girls who really like fries.
But sometimes it feels like I don't want to.
I don't want you to read about
Who or what affects me.
Sometimes I worry because my friends can read these things.
My friends, they enjoy poetry too.
My English teacher's on here.
She says she approves.
It's weird, isn't it?
How small the world is.
Yet I never see who I really want to.
I see uncles and aunts
And really long lost cousins.
I see my grandma's friends everywhere.
At weddings and all affairs.
But the only way I can see
Who I really want to.
Is through writing and pictures,
And trust me,
I do.
But it feels like it can't be real,
not yet.
I have eight months to go,
And I fret and I fret.
I can't wait to see those
Amazing blue eyes.
The upturn of blond hair,
And your shirts like the skies.
Your sense of adventure keeps me going.
It's weird,
I know,
how these words keep flowing.
You'll never read them.
But if you do,
Hi,
I suppose.
I miss you.
With your laugh,
So infrequent,
And your entrances.
Through fire escapes?
That's perfectly normal to me.
From under a table?
That's pretty normal to see.
To scare me on a staircase?
Of course, why not?
Hanging off a balcony?
Fine, but keep your thoughts.
But the one entrance you have yet to make.
Is the one I want you to most.
The one that leads you back into my world.
The one that makes the legend unfurl.
I have documents upon documents
I'd love you to read.
But you never really will,
It's not hard to believe.
Poems and lists,
Monologues galore.
But wait and look,
Here's one more.
And you ask,
What is it truly for?
A thank you,
Dear friend
For being who you are.
And simply to ask you to look up at the stars.
For I can see the moon,
And so can you.
And I just wish,
I could see you too.
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 4:14 PM UTC
We met here as children,
happy times,
smiles shared between friends,
love at its prime.
Everyday we meet,
streamers,
*****
crayons held high,
in our small hands,
the three of us,
no time for judgement,
no time for worry,
far too many adventures to be had,
underneath this apricot tree.
The meetings grow infrequent,
we meet here as acquaintances,
we meet here as lovers,
knife for the carving of flesh and bark,
dreams of brighter days,
days obscured by a terrestrial haze,
we love,
we hate,
we grow,
we regress,
under this apricot tree.
Years pass,
the meetings are infrequent,
the successful no longer indulge,
there are only two of us left,
we meet as strangers under summer sky,
cursing God for death,
estrangement,
birth,
divorce,
broken,
realizations,
invention,
convention,
peace,
understanding what love is,
so clear now,
how did we get this far,
underneath this apricot tree?
They meet here as children,
they meet as friends,
in its truest sense,
running,
pushing,
playing,
the days get lighter,
the sun a little brighter,
grazing fresh skin,
sun-kissed lullabies,
the toys are different,
but the game is the same,
underneath this apricot tree.
We meet here as children,
laying underneath our tree,
nostalgia feels our lungs,
the feeling is familiar,
but the landscape is inverted,
we love,
we hate,
we grow,
we regress,
estrangement,
birth,
divorce,
broken,
realizations,
invention,
convention,
peace,
running,
pushing,
playing,
everyday we meet,
streamers,
*****
crayons held high,
in our small hands,
the three of us,
our children with us,
we meet here as one,
underneath this apricot tree.
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 1:38 PM UTC
The delinquent infrequent resurfaces with a soul purpose, no direction except insurrection, conquering self and self conquering come hand in hand. It takes a lot to be a man, it takes more to not be sore. Lessons learned come from hands burned and life moves as the wheels turn.
Feb 15, 2011
Feb 15, 2011 at 12:33 AM UTC
she is definitely displeased profoundly disappointed in her latest literary efforts she dreams aches to create deeper discourse higher insight more thoughtful philosophical inquiries about life’s challenges beauty a better world overpowering love inspiration instead she writes paperback television trash stupid inadequate answers to solemn questions she wonders if she is too scratched dented to find love her ******* are definitely changing she is deeply disturbed not ready for menopause too young for menopause she wants to remain a fertile woman with smooth skin wet ******
2
her neighbor Leslie awoke to horrible morning Leslie’s 6 chickens were assaulted overnight precious Mabel dragged off feathers everywhere trail down the street other hens cowering slumped together with wilted necks 3 of them with puncture wounds Leslie carried them one by one inside washed their wounds hugged them cried who did this terrible act a neglected abusive neighborhood cat or some desert predator why didn’t Leslie wake to sounds of savage marauding now this creature knows hen’s whereabouts when will it return for more massacre what modifications need to be enforced to ensure their coup before nightfall
3
she wants to remain a hen keep producing eggs does not want is not ready to enter the next **** stage of this **** existence it was fun being pretty for men inspiring them to say do wacky things she wants to remain a hen she is definitely displeased profoundly disappointed in her latest literary efforts “tucson square dance” (self-referential) ****** bit about Americans came through here last night in “tucson 3-step” ****** perhaps the pinot noir lowered her standards everything is becoming nothing she cannot sleep tosses turns thrashes sheets in humid heat of her lonesome bed is she is too scratched dented to find love worries for Leslie
4
tomorrow is another day they say the rain will come last year’s monsoon never came the baking sun smothered her garden died one by one sleepless she will miss tomorrow’s pilates class the infrequent delightful breakfast afterwards she dreams aches of deeper discourse higher insight more thoughtful philosophical inquiries about life’s challenges beauty a better world overpowering love inspiration she crossed the line tonight her ******* are definitely changing
Jul 16, 2010
Jul 16, 2010 at 8:51 AM UTC
Gram had an old piano
It sat in the front room
There was a scorch mark on the top
Made by a cigar from the past
It always sat there silent
I never ever saw it played
But, I heard of all the parties
And the music from gram
She told us kids "don't touch it"
"Just leave it all alone"
So, we left it like she told us
We did as we were told
Even though we'd heard the stories
Of the music and the parties
And the fun that used to be
We watched as Gram would sit
Close her eyes, and fade out
To the parties and the music
And the good times of the past
She'd leave us to our own devices
Of which one, was not the piano
She told us it had been there
Since about nineteen sixty four
And to me, that's a long time
Especially for a piano to not be played
It had to be out of tune by now
But, we'd neve know
She'd tell us of the parties
How the neighbors would drop by
How the music would be lively
Then, she'd fade off once again
Back to the parties and the past
There were mice living in the piano
At least if not now, there once were
You could see droppings in the corner
And the scratches by the pedals
But, we never saw the mice
I guess they knew the piano was out of bounds too
As we got older and time passed by
We wouldn't go to Grams place as much
And she never moved the piano
We would still hear the stories
Either on the phone or during the visits
Both were more infrequent as we all aged
We knew she'd fade off
Sometimes during our chats on the phone
Sometimes during our visits
Back to the past
To the parties and the music
Gram passed last year
While she was sitting in her chair
She went to the past
And stayed there while I was making tea
I ended up with the piano
I can't play, not that I ever would
None of the other could either
But, I was the oldest
Now, every so often, I'll fade out
Back to the stories of the parties
That I never went to
And I think about the music
That I never heard
But, I remember how she said it was
How it must have sounded
The fun they had
The fun she was reliving
Grams piano sits in my house now
In the hall never played
It sits with its memories
Announcing what we all had missed
It sits, silent, and it's me who shares the tales
To all who will listen when they visit
I got Grams piano and I didn't get the mice
Feb 20, 2021
Feb 20, 2021 at 5:38 PM UTC
Neuroeconomic
Amalgam
Uninitiated
But prescient
Drumming to remember
All last September
Kernels
Nuggets
Mirroring
Neurons
Can take down
Neocons
\|/
Signals
/|\
Subtle infrequent
Lullabies flow into
A numinous bassline
Reverberating Ohm
Indivisible
Mitosis
Becoming us
As the egg aspires
Divine feminine
Holding space
For the new
Phoenix rising
Nov 16, 2014
Nov 16, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
methinks thou confuseth
thy heart's impatient beating
with the tremulous and sonorous
summation of the immeasurable
wail of clocks ticking, begging,
listen!
these wondrous matches glorious
arranged in heaven,
where weighty watches
and yellowed human calendars
long ago dismissed, irrelevant,
discarded.
marked full well,
they did
upon thy heart,
when as babe
you drew first breath.
when thou will receive
love's bounty,
nothing more and nothing
less.
heavenly their watchfulness eternal,
impatience does not grant favour
to love long lasting,
ever true,
even if struck anew
with first impatient glance,
for much thought and endeavor,
masterfully planned,
thy turn scheduled,
recorded, awaiting only
for inevitable
discovery.
for though the streams of spring
rush full fleshed,
swollen forward,
thy truest love is
best read in the
gentle constance of
a gentle lake's
modest waves lapping,
like a beloved's
best ring finger
stroking thy cheek
in one continuous
caressing.
need not thou lament,
nor groan
with impatient travail,
fare thee well,
for the sails,
the course inexorable,
the destination prescribed,
foretold and heralded
upon the flags of thy eyes,
the banner of thy words,
that rest prepared upon
thy fullest and hungry
lips.
chance is but a
secondary miscreant,
whose role is but as narrator.
let's him speak infrequent,
but when comes his time
to conduct his sale,
well behooves you to
listen to that littlest of voices
you so oft disregard,
victim of your willful
fears!
the time, the play, the locale
all matched and set,
now we await only
your demonstration and forbearance
to honest augur the
greatest courage
to speak the hardest phrase
e're spoke:
I love thee more than myself.
for whence
can only be,
when thou breakbeat
the chains accursedly nominated as
Me First.
shout the key out loud
In the hour, nay, the instance,
thy first believe,
then long life and long love
can then
and
only then
commence.
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 11:41 AM UTC
You are my best friend.
Loving, loyal and true.
Loving unconditionally,
I appreciate all that is you.
Sometimes you drive me mad,
When you disagree with me.
I want what's best for us.
My way to show I care, you see.
Everyday is much the same,
We both know the routine.
It starts with breakfast,
A time to share my dreams.
You recognise my moods
and listen to me intently.
You understand my feelings.
I feel your empathy.
Then off to work,
You watch me from the door.
With heavy heart I leave you.
Soon, I'll be with you once more.
The happiness you bring me.
Your welcome when I come home.
The guilt I feel,
Having left you all alone.
Your hugs are special
comforting and warm.
These moments, though infrequent
Make me keep you out of harm.
So now you wag your tail.
It's reached that time of day.
I'll get your ball and lead.
Walkies, let's go out to play.
Mar 13, 2019
Mar 13, 2019 at 8:59 AM UTC
Only once in your life, I truly believe,
you find someone who can
completely turn your world around.
You tell them things that you’ve
never shared with another soul and
they absorb everything you say and
actually want to hear more. You share
hopes for the future, dreams that will
never come true, goals that were
never achieved and the many
disappointments life has thrown at
you. When something wonderful
happens, you can’t wait to tell them
about it, knowing they will share in your excitement. They are not
embarrassed to cry with you when
you are hurting or laugh with you
when you make a fool of yourself.
Never do they hurt your feelings or
make you feel like you are not good
enough, but rather they build you up
and show you the things about
yourself that make you special and
even beautiful. There is never any
pressure, jealousy or competition but
only a quiet calmness when they are
around. You can be yourself and not
worry about what they will think of
you because they love you for who
you are. The things that seem
insignificant to most people such as a
note, song or walk become invaluable
treasures kept safe in your heart to
cherish forever. Memories of your
childhood come back and are so clear
and vivid it’s like being young again.
Colours seem brighter and more
brilliant. Laughter seems part of daily
life where before it was infrequent or
didn’t exist at all. A phone call or two
during the day helps to get you
through a long day’s work and always
brings a smile to your face. In their
presence, there’s no need for
continuous conversation, but you find
you’re quite content in just having
them nearby. Things that never
interested you before become
fascinating because you know they
are important to this person who is so
special to you. You think of this
person on every occasion and in
everything you do. Simple things
bring them to mind like a pale blue
sky, gentle wind or even a storm
cloud on the horizon. You open your
heart knowing that there’s a chance it
may be broken one day and in
opening your heart, you experience a
love and joy that you never dreamed
possible. You find that being
vulnerable is the only way to allow
your heart to feel true pleasure that’s
so real it scares you. You find strength
in knowing you have a true friend and
possibly a soul mate who will remain
loyal to the end. Life seems
completely different, exciting and
worthwhile. Your only hope and
security is in knowing that they are a
part of your life.
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 6:40 PM UTC
“When people move-when they travel-they look at where
they come from,
not where they’re going.” -Martin Amis, *Time’s Arrow
*
Let us now take this chance
to praise those dancing demons
of ambition,
whose feigned clairvoyance
of fortune
and exactitudes of fame
burn as the smell of smokey fallow
to the new-retired mare.
Travel, and all its takeoffs,
all its energies in skidding towards
an unopposed truth, makes its mince
by outlining all we ever look for
but leaving the chalkdust prints
of what we fail, at first, to find.
Yes, spaces contrary to the familiar exist
Carnivore cities of grind and result
cascaded above the floodwalls that save
the vagrant’s midnight search.
Coastal clearings of pacific civs,
best kept secrets where trees are still planted
and further kinds of nowhere that you never expected
to simmer with all the prospects of bored and implacable youths
who pine to efface the status quo, which ,after all, is quite the average,
is quite like “HOME”
Though I suppose, we eventually find
whatever space can be considered our own
when everyone grows up and stops
pretending they read Burroughs,
have a lot more going on, or are a lot less busy
than they make out over infrequent coffee meetings
(where it is also admitted
that they brew their own hot beverages,
or tell their own jokes)
Somewhere in the near-space continuum where Travel has
become for us what essentially differentiates
the commonplace in nature from
that most human of neuroses,
the acceptance of a willing to improve the conditional.
And so to Ambition, and its fiery fops who make us refute
steadiness, accountability, the routine of the resolute
Who let our ships of sanctimony attack
implied with the luxury of steering back.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 5:29 PM UTC
Oh the corrupt pleasure of being a rare gem, beautiful, infrequent and irreplaceable.
I guess that's why it's called Painite
Oct 7, 2022
Oct 7, 2022 at 8:31 AM UTC
I would rather write one good poem
and have it lost
to you and you,
among the waterfall crushing
of trite and rushing verbal droppings
and the infrequent masterpieces
years from now
mediocre and facing myself,
mirror-wincing,
at a dyed and dying
vanity,
years from now
admission: confession:
my goal was
glory and fame,
to be celebrated,
recalled and retained,
if only
by myself,
with smidgened satisfaction
my Cain mark,
is not a celebration
of a brother's birthright
usurped,
Frailty
thy name
literary adulation
like so, too many
other failures recorded
lost to lol but me,
but one,
perhaps
this one(?)
to enfold
in my
withering, neatly-voiceless
hands
saying and believing,
perhaps!
with this one,
I have justified
my existence
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 6:15 PM UTC
•
You've broken my heart into fragments,
And those pieces,
Became the stars that light my pitch-black moments,
It became an ornament of my life,
Little gems that gleams my night,
Their abundance embellish the darkness,
It makes my life marvelous and worth living for!
'Cause stars are an exceptional beauty in the dark sky,
Like my brokenness has it's rare beauty,
Everyone sees it, but few appreciates.
'Cause only infrequent times,
With individuals having chuffed personality,
That people makes blissful atmosphere,
Out of wicked situations.
© Earl Jane
♥ E.J.C.S.
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC
In an attempt to draw out the scenes
I find myself unable to think
of a worthy vessel for true means,
of how to make sense of this new ink.
My dreams shine clear through infrequent sleep,
each action and wish mere thoughts away.
Yet open eyes draw dark doubts that creep
and reign through all hours of my day.
I wish for profound sounds to carry
each person to pure rapture and bliss,
but more weights strengthen on top of me,
and render brief happiness amiss.
My sole desire rests in others,
to move the way notes in me vibrate,
through my own loud message that covers
all ways to make feelings resonate.
Now I curse how long my tongue's been dry,
unable to assert its substance.
I never throw words that haunt in lie,
which reasons my constant reluctance.
Someday my lines will be more than lines,
but emotions that reverberate.
My inner self that tries and defines
all my actions as more than just fate.
September 4th, 2011
Sep 14, 2011
Sep 14, 2011 at 10:40 AM UTC
The words of others
are used all too oft
as an excuse to project
one's own Shadow,
yet so infrequent it seems
that wisdom is gained
from this seemingly
inevitable projection.
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 10:55 PM UTC
I wish I could show him that,
Between the cracks of my bones,
Flowers are sprouting,
Inside the garden of sadness I once had.
Seven months have passed since I last visited,
What was once a home of loneliness and anguish,
For the last, huddled was I, on a rusting bench,
Absentmindedly watching salty droplets cascade to the ground.
With cheeks red and face damp,
My attention finally turned to the weeds blossoming in my oasis,
And though its weeds were beautiful to gaze upon at the time,
I realized that a garden without roses is like an ocean without fish,
Or a galaxy without stars,
Or a sky without clouds,
Or a heart without love,
And for that reason I deserted the deserted,
To find you.
Regardless of my infrequent visits,
To the garden between the crevices of my bones,
Loyal friends have visited in my absence,
To pluck away the weeds I used to stare at so lovingly,
And shower the land with seeds,
The ocean with fish,
The galaxy with stars,
The sky with clouds,
And my heart with love.
Though the scene brings tears to my eyes,
To gaze upon all that has changed,
I wish I could show him that,
Between the cracks of my bones,
Flowers are sprouting,
Inside the garden of sadness I once had.
(H.G.)
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 11:20 PM UTC
Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can completely turn your world around. You tell them things that you’ve never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you say and actually want to hear more. You share hopes for the future, dreams that will never come true, goals that were never achieved and the many disappointments life has thrown at you.
When something wonderful happens, you can’t wait to tell them about it, knowing they will share in your excitement. They are not embarrassed to cry with you when you are hurting or laugh with you when you make a fool of yourself. Never do they hurt your feelings or make you feel like you are not good enough, but rather they build you up and show you the things about yourself that make you special and even beautiful. There is never any pressure, jealousy or competition but only a quiet calmness when they are around. You can be yourself and not worry about what they will think of you because they love you for who you are.
The things that seem insignificant to most people such as a note, song or walk become invaluable treasures kept safe in your heart to cherish forever. Memories of your childhood come back and are so clear and vivid it’s like being young again. Colours seem brighter and more brilliant. Laughter seems part of daily life where before it was infrequent or didn’t exist at all. A phone call or two during the day helps to get you through a long day’s work and always brings a smile to your face. In their presence, there’s no need for continuous conversation, but you find you’re quite content in just having them nearby. Things that never interested you before become fascinating because you know they are important to this person who is so special to you. You think of this person on every occasion and in everything you do. Simple things bring them to mind like a pale blue sky, gentle wind or even a storm cloud on the horizon. You open your heart knowing that there’s a chance it may be broken one day and in opening your heart, you experience a love and joy that you never dreamed possible.
You find that being vulnerable is the only way to allow your heart to feel true pleasure that’s so real it scares you. You find strength in knowing you have a true friend and possibly a soul mate who will remain loyal to the end. Life seems completely different, exciting and worthwhile. Your only hope and security is in knowing that they are a part of your life.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 12:36 PM UTC
My sweet tender wife whom I dearly love,
Ever strives to keep me on the fine path,
And surely merits favor from above,
For the restraint of her infrequent wrath.
Dealing daily with my incompetence,
Which oft is egregious and deplorable,
Her aptitude for patience quite immense,
And altogether truly laudable.
She deserves to be constantly pining,
And with her silence speaks unspoken words,
That shows her spirit is ever shining,
As light and graceful as the songs of birds.
Where would I be without my companion?
Look for my soul in a dour canyon.
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 9:44 AM UTC
I met a friendly woman at the college,
She sat in the entrance gallery west of the labs.
I said, "Hello, may I know your identity," with a smile,
And her lips spread to a mile.
She said, "Hello, I'm here on my job,"
Little did I know that blowing was her job.
Anyway, I started telling her about myself,
And as a loner with an infrequent *****
I respect and I know myself a lot.
When she sat in rapt attention for me,
Listening to my breath between the words,
And my gaze often slid down her face.
There they sat elegantly and imposingly,
Two cute babies, a picture of them, actually,
In a picture printed on the ***** of her shirt,
And I asked about them curiously.
She said, "They are my nephew and niece,"
"Both are twins and each weighs 7 kilograms,"
And looked for validation, "Aren't they both so nice?"
I nodded in agreement saying, "Definitely,"
And I continued, "I want to play with them both."
She said, "I know that you fell in love with them,"
Now she continued with another broad smile,
"You are welcome to play with both of them,"
I asked, "Are they with you?"
She laughed shortly and said,
"They always remain with me."
Puzzled, I said, "What?"
My jaw remained hung open in astonishment.
She put her finger under my chin,
Then shut my mouth to say,
"Don't act like an innocent kid,"
And she continued,
"I like you, and I want you,
Come in the morning,
We'll have a lot of fun,
And I'll blow my favourite toy,
Before both of us go for a movie."
May 9, 2024
May 9, 2024 at 7:45 AM UTC