Tag: Poem

philosophyon-line dating#15

So, I let the cat out of the bag. I got married on 12/29/20.
This might seem surprising because as of last April I was still driving about. Who is she?

She is an artist; painting, drawing, writing. Former Yoga Instructor. Former IT Systems Analyst. Loves the outdoors. And my jokes.

I invited her up to Whitefish to recover from being hit by a Suburban while in a crosswalk. We spent a lot of time together both indoors and outdoors. We are both living very intentional lives. We both intend to live with each other for the rest of our lives.

Of course I wrote some courting poems:

Here to there is too much air.
Don’t believe I do not care.
Excited to be tracking something rare.
Available only to those who dare.
I'm not the tallest, darkest or handsomest.
I'm not the fastest, smartest or funniest.
I'm not the richest, bravest or kindest.
I'm not the most talented, most respected 
   or most ambitious.
Am I average, normal?
Am I yours?

Clearly the on-line dating paid off. Which makes me no expert in this experience. It took me years, her weeks. I’ve met all kinds of people. A couple of friends. Many anecdotes.

Given the times I cannot imagine how else to meet someone.

I’m glad it is over.

Poem#91

The energy runs through
The wires of my soul.
Rebuilding what’s broken,
Making it all whole.

Let the current’s flow
Help clean the past.
Giving clearer perspective
Of what has passed.

A new dawn awakens,
Thanks to this new source.
Life will be amazing
Following this new course.

 

Poem#88

A texting exchange.

GF: Good night. (sleep emoji)

ME:Be at peace.
Dream a lot.
Wake refreshed.
Make the top.

GF:(smiley emoji)
You’re on my mind a lot.
It’s nice.

ME: On your mind.
Ain’t it nice.
In your arms.
I’ll pay the price.

GF:With a roll of the dice
And eyes wide shut
Take the plunge
Melt the ice.

ME: Are you the one?
We’ll never know.
It can’t work out.
Unless you show?

I do apologize.
It’s your bedtime.
It’s lots of fun.
Making ditties that rhyme.

Sweet dreams.

GF: lol. Yes. Who needs to show?

ME:To be a pair.
Both must see.
The important points.
And Let it Be.

GF:Ok. Let it be. Words of wisdom

ME:Words of wisdom
Let it be.
Words of guidance
Let me see.

 

Poem#86

Title:  Greed
The very definition of greed;
Don't stop at limits, do exceed.
Pile up more than you really need.
Better executed with some speed.

What justifies such a climb?
Whose interest is your prime?
Alas, the object of this crime
Is nothing more, than your time.

 

Driveabout#15

There are choices to be made in life. I could have made this a “History” post, as it occurred last fall, but it happened while driving about. Enjoy the break from what’s left of winter.

Even you are not as pretty as the leaves today.
The dazzling sun is making the colors pop.
The reds, the golds, the yellows,
Blue skies, white clouds, evergreens frame the scene.
A kaleidoscope of fallen leaves spread out in front.
My camera fails to record this properly.
But I see, I remember, I'm overwhelmed.

The day we first met
The sun illuminated your form.
Your laughter echoed through the hills.
Your thoughts flowed with mine.
My feet barely touched the path.
But I saw, I remember, I was overwhelmed.

The story of the leaves does not end.

 

Driveabout#11

Yesterday I entered my martial arts studio at 7:30am.  At 5:00pm I hobbled out (to be explained) with the black sash that I had just earned.IMG_0500
But the story is not that simple, as is usually the case.  In early 1994 I first entered this studio.  By late 1997 I was one test away from black.  And then I moved to Tucson for a new job.  I kicked around down there but didn’t like the systems or the instructors.  So I went on with life.  Raising kids, having horses, entrepreneuring, volunteering, much like what everyone else does as they watch time pass.

And then I had my Big Meltdown (BM) which has led to this Driveabout.  Roughly 3 years ago I decided to restart my martial arts practice.  I called up my old instructor (Si Gung) and he agreed to work with me, which meant I studied at home and once a month I drove down to Salt Lake City for lessons.  Not optimal, but I had a very un-Zen like goal of getting that black, because, how many folks (especially my age) can make that claim.  Further, your body does need to keep moving and think of my martial arts as Yoga on super steroids.

My style is very eclectic and thus challenging.  My “manual” has over 80 pages of choreographed moves that I am supposed to be able to execute at any time.  There are many more that (seemingly) never got written down.  We also practice locks, pressure points, grappling and meditation.  The good side is the mental exercise and discipline, balance, control and overall great shape (yes I do have strong abs).  The bad side is I do get hurt.  A year and a half ago my knee got hurt during a group lesson.  I wouldn’t say that it is fully healed yet, but close.  And then this:IMG_0498
The reason I hobbled out of the studio yesterday is because sometime during the test I broke my foot.  Yes, it did somewhat interfere with my performance, but I persevered.  But that is not anything compared to what my mates did.  They literally carried me through parts of the test.  It is hard surviving one of these tests on your own.  But they were lining up to help me when it was needed.  Awesome.  Still brings tears to my eyes.  Thank you.

Is donning this belt, black as night
Cause of any concern and fright?
Is it imbued with mystical power?
Or proof of work, hour upon hour? 

5 animals provide the needed influence.
Struggling to find the elusive confluence.
Over and over, repeat and repeat.
Striving for that really deep seat.
 
Sweat and toil prove all their worth
For every effort put in the search.
It really does come down to pride.
A skill no longer able to hide.

That belt is not worn to say,
Do me no harm on this day.
Instead it is there to attest,
Someone trying to be their best.

Entertainment#15

A few random thoughts:

Title:  Insomnia
The clock is not hard to see in the dark.
But, the numbers are much too small.
Options:
Warm milk.
Watch some TV.
Read a poetry book.
Is it called insomnia
when you are awake in the arms of another?

—–

Title: Camp Fire
How intoxicating a good camp fire is.
It frees the imagination, energizes the soul.
It inspires, relaxes, cooks.
Does it matter how it was made?
Gather a bunch of wood, stuff in a bunch of paper,
douse with a bunch of fluid, apply match.
                       Or
Carefully construct with lint, small kindling,
larger kindling, cause spark, nurture flame.
Carefully add layers.  Insure ventilation.  Build upon success.

To the child with the marshmallow stick, anticipating s'mores;
To the teenagers holding hands, anticipating kisses;
To the adults with smiles, anticipating life;

Do the fires differ?

——

So, I was hiking in the Tucson foothills.
Strong greens, bright rocks, hardy plants.
In fact, the plants are armed; spikes, thorns, barbs.
Hiking in shorts is not highly recommended.
While still on the trail, I had to avoid contact from intruders.
But that only encourages them.
Further and further they encroached.
As if they owned the world.
But they don’t and when some line is crossed
They get cut back, kicked back, stomped back.
That has to hurt.
Wouldn’t it be better if they just stopped at the edge?

—–

It has been a number of years.
I am just passing through.
The sharp edges have softened.
Items have been rearranged.
It is the same, but similar.
But it is no longer real.
Memories, dreams, wishes blend
Together.
With tears, bricks are made
And set.
Hopefully a door was included in the plans.
Hopefully moving forward is less painful
Than moving back.
Moving keeps the oxygen flowing.

History#19

With the Drive about to start, I need to clean up these back pages.
On Match you can send a “wink”. The recipient knows that you are interested but that you lack courage to just write a note like “hi”. Why would you do that?
Anyway, in response to one I received I wrote back:

Title: Wink
That slight closing of one eye,
was not due to a solitary fly.
Was there too much grit in the air?
Or, perhaps some reflected glare?
No, it was from no other sensations
than everyone's wish for new relations.

Oh, this is a good story.
I actually worry about interacting with other writers while on-line dating.
Why? What if they don’t like my material. Or worse, what if I don’t like theirs? My social skills still need improvement. The following is an example of what not to do. A lady shared a poem with me. Truly, I didn’t like it, but I didn’t outright say that. Instead I said her poem inspired me to write:

Title:  Chocolate
You can have some,
But is too much really bad for you?
Sugar and sweet is not its best form.
It does go well with low lights, music and red wine.
You can use it to celebrate,
But it comes in handy on those down days.
Brought to you, it's a big favor.
Given to others, it's a great gift.
I love

In (not much) time she would get angry with me.

And then I wrote another ditty, purely from the content of a profile. I love doing these and I love profiles that have enough content to inspire these. Can you imagine the inspiration of being around her a lot? Well, keep imagining, she didn’t respond.

Title: Wonders
Hot air balloons launching at dawn.
Little fuzzy cygnets following the swan.
Winter sleigh ride in New York City.
A ball of twine entangling a kitty.
Fireworks exploding to gasps and glee.
Aruba's pink sands framing the sea.
Wonders come in many forms and sights.
Wonders are everywhere causing delight.