This might be too preachy, but dammit, it’s the truth.
There was a T-shirt a while back that said, “He who dies with the most toys wins.” It’s time to say it again…He who dies with the most love wins. I am pretty sure you understand my point. I am far from in the running for the most sex. I have some grand male friends with whom I share a special love. I am sure you know by now, reading my work, that I am not gay. I could have been with one man, many years ago. I loved him that much. I could have made love with him, but only if he asked it of me, because I am not gay. Neither was he.
Any of my love poems are to women, or to God, or the Goddess.
We Once Loved
I am not here long,
not long at all, nor are you.
We are called to love
in the moment as
we can, as if we had all
the time in the world,
as if it could last,
as if someone else would care
that we were once here
and that we once loved
like the ancient mountains grew,
slowly wearing down.
March 2, 2009 2:28 PM
Contraction
1 week ago
Christopher, I am bursting with this one. BURSTING. Sometimes I look around at all the people...usually when I'm in the States and not here, 'cause really, there just aren't many here. But there, I see them all and I become overwhelmed and I wonder at how we all feel our lives so important and our feelings so deep and complicated
ReplyDeletewhen really
we're just a whisp of smoke.
So yes, while we are here, let us love. Love love love. What else is there to do? Oh sure, we could fight, and point out each other's weaknesses, or hey, there's always the money grab. I'd rather love.
And your prologue. Fuck. You are grand in all the right ways.
xo
erin
:D Thank you, love. Oh yes, I forgot angels. I can possibly write love poems to angels. What's really cool, angelgoddeswoman, I write them to you sometimes.
ReplyDeleteWow! your poem just put a huge crack through my heart without breaking it :)
ReplyDeleteIndians hear a heart touching 'shayari' (Urdu poetry) and say, "Wah Wah!"
So... wah wah!
Namaste, Vinisha, or Urdu suggests, Salaam aleicum, but then you may be Christian or many other things too. Anyway, welcome. I never made it to Mumbai or much else in India but spent two years in Bangladesh before it was independent, and so East Pakistan.
ReplyDeleteI visited Nepal twice, staying for a while on the way to India, to Delhi and Agra, and then to Lake Tal and Srinagar in Kashmir.
Nepal was the only way to India from Bangladesh in those days.
Thank you for your comment.
Shanti, shanti, shantihi.
If I had a poem in me today I would have liked it to be this one. It is so what I want to say right now!
ReplyDeleteNamaste!
xxx
{{{Michelle}}}
ReplyDeleteChristopher ~ I love you absolutely. This poem made me cry and in a good way..*hugs*
ReplyDeleteCherie, sometimes I imagine that I have enough money and then I go around the world catching up with all my on line buddies. I bet that would be just a killer vacation. I have got all the continents covered now. But one of the best ones would be the visit I would have with you. You could show me Texas, the part you're in, not Midland and Odessa, though I would go through there on purpose.
ReplyDeleteOK, I've been reading blogs for about 3 months now and I think I have it figured out. Most of the women go around displaying their arty farty wares, their kids pictures or their deep psychological wounds and the few men that really put it 'out there' like you, just say, 'F___ it, and they do. They pierce to the heart of the matter. And if we're smart enough, we see that we should be out there F___ing the life (in a good way) out of EVERYTHING.
ReplyDeleteROTFLMAO!! I am not sure I actually measure up to this, Kass, or if all the women fit your category. I certainly have several I visit regularly who don't fit arty farty so much as they fit raw and real. Those are the ones I like best, even love if there is any way that love can happen across the internet. I think so and say so.
ReplyDeleteThis makes me think of a line that's been running through my head a lot lately. An old Beatle's song from an old Beatles fan:
ReplyDelete"And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make."
Period.
Oh, and if I ever get arty-farty, just smack me.
ReplyDeleteKaren, what's really cool about the Beatles doing that was they were fuckups in so many of the ordinary ways...check out behind the scenes with musicians in general and you will learn that they don't have to be wise in any way to have the most amazing musical instincts.
ReplyDeleteAs for arty farty, you can trust me on this...I think I know what Kass is talking about and I don't think anyone in my circle is doing this. You're not anywhere close to it.
You're right, Christopher and Karen. None of the women I see here are arty-farty. You have to realize I live in Salt Lake City, Utah (the home of glass grapes and scrapbooking) and I started blogging with family and locals, and then slowly expanded as I 'caught on.'
ReplyDeleteROTFLMAO!! Glad I could give you a good laugh.
ReplyDeleteKashmir is a very beautiful place. So many wish they had been there. So you and I are the lucky ones to have.
ReplyDeleteI am one of the many other things, technically. But a greeting is a greeting - whether it's a hello or wazz up! or Salaam aleicum... so
Salaam alekhum. :)
"We Once Loved" is a stunning piece of poetry. The only one I can think of who writes about love with comparable authority and grace (and terse elegance) is Rilke. Somehow his voice seems to float right out of your words: a very particular tone that is both haunted and haunting at once. Even the title and the train of thought seem like plausible Rilke. Hope you take this as a compliment. Comparisons can be irksome sometimes.
ReplyDeleteSince Rilke is one of the poetry gods I can only say, "thank you." and slink along my way. The truth of big love of course is also big pain. It scares most of us much of the time.
ReplyDelete