Category Archives: Poetry

LOVE SUPREME

Wanting it to work
Hoping it will work
Trying to make it work
Longing for it to work
Dreaming
Striving
Before realizing
It’s not supposed to BE work.
Not like this at any rate.
Not in a way that leaves me waiting
Constantly,
For the good part to come
For the joy to reveal itself
Constantly
Having to heal myself
From missunderstandings and accusations
Red herrings
False expectations.
I’m supposed to feel that joy
Even in the harder moments.
It’s meant to infuse and define
The entire process
Leaving me feeling more
Not less.
I’ll confess to the part that’s mine
It’s taken far too much time
For me to learn what life’s been teaching
I’ve actually been over-reaching
In attempts to deal with holes to fill
Thinking every hole an ill
Not being able to clearly see
That the holes are those that define me
And if I want to take command
I need to understand more of my own map
Not search for solutions in another’s lap
And when others come into my sight
I must resist with all my might
The urge to be someone’s white knight
Or someone’s dark horse, unpolished diamond
Not a sight on someone’s distant horizon
Need to understand there’s more for me
To wait for someone to adore me
Someone whom I adore in turn
Who’s there to share not make me learn
Their lessons unnaturally
But someone who fits comfortably
Where I don’t wait for joy revealed
Where there’s so much joy it can’t be concealed
Where the love feels like a blessed gift
And even the work gives me a lift
Where stumbling’s accepted, not judged
Not critized and begrudged
We all make mistakes
I need someone who takes
Those things in stride
Not a force to be defied
But whose eyes light up
In love and kindness
Where each day serves to remind us
That we are better off together
And whether that will come along
I can’t be sure
But a love that pure
Is the only one worth taking
Till then
I’ll be making my own way
Living my life day to day
And being finally able to say,
Without a doubt to linger at
I’m actually okay with that.

Meta Sonnet

I once wrote down a poem about a cat.
Though, now I can’t recall that much of it.
Nor do I know exactly where it’s at.
T’would be nice to remember just a bit.

It was a sonnet, Shakespeare’s preferred form.
Those twelve iambic lines of pentameter.
Capped with a rhyming couplet, as the norm.
To delight and to charm the gentle reader.

When I was seventeen, I wrote it down.
A high school lass with still a lot to learn.
With little on my mind but my prom gown.
T’was then the poet’s flame began to burn.

I wish would have left myself a note.
For that was the first poem I ever wrote.

As I Am

As I am I am,
Am I as I am?
Love me or leave me,
Deny or receive me,
Don’t ask for changing,
Or expect rearranging,
My self is my own,
Not yours to construct,
Don’t like how I’ve grown?
Then go and get fucked!
Didn’t travel this far,
To get put in a jar
A gem for your collection,
Void of self reflection,
I don’t give a damn,
If I pass your exam,
Am I as I am?
Yes, I am as I am!

Radical Ideas

When you’re an American teacher
In Sweden,
Your job is often extra
Interesting.
Here everyone is expected
To conform.
And neutral complacency
Is the norm.
But I try to teach them
Ideas radical.
And instill some passion
Most emphatical.
That self-reliance and defiance
Are okay.
(Though neither of these is the
Swedish Way.)
And it won’t hurt them to
Have opinions.
We really don’t need more
Mindless minions
Of the Nanny State, handing all
Their needs.
I’m encouraging dissent among
Young Swedes.