Tuesday, July 7, 2009

She's Over The Border Now, It's All Second Hand

If my lover left by jet plane. "I'm leaving on a jet plane/Don't know if I'll be back again/Oh babe, I have to go..."

If my lover left and I couldn't go.

She's Over The Border Now

I am far too late.
The contrails streak past my view,
Clearly demonstrate
That you are long gone,
Leaving me here to ponder
The state of my heart.

What more can I say
That means anything to you?
I hold the doorpost
As you fly above
As if we all should grow wings.

But I'm still grounded
I have my orders.

January 25, 2009 8:33 AM

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Loving beyond all reason. Of course. We all know that really there is no other kind because love is itself beyond reason. This is the conundrum and the challenge. So often we enter an affair of some kind, knowing as I did from reason's standpoint that it couldn't work. Or we know by nature of reason that our kid's a jerk. So what? When I turned into a complete jerk it contributed to the end of my mother's third marriage. She could not act from reason, and my Dad could. He drew a line and she crossed it finally. I am happy because it saved my life, and I needed saving. However these actions went a long ways to ending that marriage. I am grateful to say that as it shook out, I still had both my Mom and Dad.

It's All Second Hand

I met you on the way
To the book club gathering
(This is odd for me)
Where we would discuss
Russo's book, called Bridge Of Sighs.
You agreed with me there.

The book's about them,
The ones who think they know stuff
Who struggle with those
They know don't know stuff.
But only because they love them
Beyond all reason.

January 25, 2009 3:52 PM

12 comments:

  1. The first poem is kinda sad. I would have a really hard time if my hubby left, really left, not to return. Of course, in the poem it sounds like the lover left and the one left behind couldn't go right then, but they would be hooking up later, right?

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  2. ..."still grounded" -- wings clipped, band around my leg, hanging my avian head in disgrace...


    The second one makes me want to read the book - I've meant to, anyway, and I know those folks, too. Love is "beyond all reason."

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  3. Techno, maybe, maybe not. I truly don't know either in the poem or in my life.

    Karen, I liked the book but it was close enough to a couple movies that I couldn't quite get the movie thing out of my head. Russo crafted characters whose complexity felt very real.

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  4. Those who think they know stuff and those who don't want to know stuff.....sigh

    xxxx

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  5. Yes. {{{Michelle}}}.

    I have known the ones who don't want to know. They can be dangerous. If you try to force them into knowledge they can get violent.

    Ick.

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  6. I know that song from years when I was a kid in my neighbour's house...weird...it came back to me. And the doorway there when I was only five. And here you are thirtysome years later drawing me to a doorpost. How strange.

    I'll certainly second love being beyond reason. I'm trying to figure the rest out.

    And as to you gifting me poems Christopher, you give me too much. I feel guilty for them. Isn't that strange? Will I see them reposted here one day?

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  7. Erin, these poems I supposedly give you are actually your gift to me, you being one of my many muses. I leave them behind in gratitude for my chance to be present at the birth of yet another poem. This is deeply true. I do save all my poems. Yes you will see it reposted here some two hundred days from now.

    I have written before that this is a discipline like my hero Hafiz, who was commanded by his spiritual master to write at least one poem every day. So I need daily inspiration. I get that from the beauty and creativity I find in the blogs I visit.

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  8. Of course love is beyond all reason. I like that. You've hit the nail on the head.

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  9. Yeah! Been punched out by a few of them :)

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  10. Love is neither for sissies nor the faint of heart.

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  11. Christopher, thank you. I'll try to deal with the weird guilt 'cause truly they are gifts.

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  12. You are quite welcome Erin, I know very well the way wierd guilt nags a person. I would stop leaving poems behind the instant you ask and think nothing much of it. I take inspiration from some sites that I know I am not welcome to leave poetry behind and that is what I do.

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The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.


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