But I Do

[Okay, if you follow my blog you know I already posted this poem there back on Valentine's Day. Since it was started on a Thursday night during the time we were supposed to be having an Altoids meeting, and because Kim inspired me with her belated Valentine's poem, I'm reposting it here. Interestingly, its theme isn't too far off from that of Kim's poem.]

With words, sweet words — the currency of the day —
He tells how you’ve won his heart.
Giving roses, dozen roses — Earth’s love letters loaned —
He says he’ll always, ever be true.

And maybe,
By the swoons, the gasps, the thrills,
It’s justified.
The symbols are so sweet because of
What they signify.

But allow me to observe a few pertinent facts:
All but the mute can speak words of love to you.
‘most anyone with arms can place blossoms in your hands.
But is it not much easier to say than to be true?
How soon will his love’s flower falter
In the heat of life’s demands?

Ah, but not every guy,
In his heart of hearts,
Adores, loves, worships,
Thinks on, hopes for, dreams of,
Leads, follows, stands side by side with
You.

No, it isn’t every man that
Lives his life for you.
But I do.
I do.

Roses

(Yes, I know this is belated.)

Roses are red
Except when they're pink
Or yellow- the color
of friendship, I think

Violets are blue
No-- that's not right!
The ones that I've seen
are purple and white

Sugar is sweet . . .
And grainy and hard
Not quite befitting
The ode of a bard

What shall we do
with these love songs of old?
The falsehoods embedded
Are too oft retold

In truth I must write
of the things that I know
Not flowers or sugar
as white as the snow

But of friendship that warms
like a bright summer day
Filling my soul
with its glorious ray

For better than roses
Or violets of blue
That wither and die
and lose their bright hue

Is knowing that I
have in you a true friend
Faithful and loyal
And brave to the end.

To Josh, upon finding him absent to an opera on poetry night

While you were waxing operating
We at Alta were dramatic
In our woeful desperation
For poetic inspiration.
No rhymes would come; we all were wrecks
The thought itself's enough to vex.
And so until your full confession
We will suffer from depression
Desperate for poetry.
Please grant this fond wish for me!

February Fourteenth

Roses and Violets - poetic cliche
. Red for love and Blue for truth
Colors invoked ev'ry year on this day
. By the smiles of love and youth

Flowers perennial, buds ever new
. Roses of the heart and eye
Beautiful Blossoms reminding of you
. Violets constant as the sky

Though 'tis still winter and all here is white
. Frozen 'neath deep banks of snow,
Sharing thses colors in mutual delight
. Warms our hearts and flowers grow

Roses and Violets for my Valentine
. Mine are yours; will you be mine?

Tired

(From the meeting of January 29, 2009)

I am tired
period
I am tired
of
dash dash
I don
apostrophe
t know
what
comma
but
I do know
that I
am
so
period

The Battle of the Bug

(From the meeting of January 29, 2009)

Throughout the body
they fight
a fight against
evil and pathogens,
antigenic soldiers
whose weapon is
I EAT YOU!
lining up, reporting
for duty
for duty at the
front.
The front of my head
is like baseball bat impact
is like waking up unconscious in the sand
and like sunny scout camp suffering!
Suffering me to sleep
would be a dream
to me,
but mucus plugs
first one nostril
then the other
and the war of attrition
is a flamethrower on my forehead.