A Silly Poem

12/09/2011 , , 0 Comments

Another week has gone by, and as I sit here sipping my coffee, I’m thinking about a poem I had written last weekend, just for shits and giggles.

When I was a teenager, I had notebooks full of poems and stories I had written. I even had a poem published in Quill Books, but honestly, I’m not a poet. I’m a novelist. I’ve had articles published as well, but writing stories is my passion.

Anyway, I wrote this poem and totally cracked myself up. I’ll tell ya why, and then paste it in here so you can see and hopefully have the same visual as I did when I was giggling at myself.

Yeah, I amuse myself. But that’s a good thing, right? I mean, you’re supposed to be your own best friend and like who you are.

Okay, years ago (back in the early 90s) Kevin and I lived in downtown Prescott, Arizona. It was a wonderful place back then and had sort of a hippy, earthy vibe to it. We used to hangout at this coffee shop called, ‘The Full Moon Cafe'’ where they’d have poetry readings. One night, when Kevin and I were there, a hippy chick stood in the middle of the room and read a poem about being a used piece of gum. Kevin and I still snicker about it because it was so funny. In fact, I even wrote a scene similar to it in ‘Beyond the Eyes’, and I crack myself up every time I read it.

Yeah, I’m a dork. But hey, my critique partners thought that scene was funny as well. So I’m not the only one who finds humor in it.

So when I read this poem, I imagined myself in this cafe', standing in the middle of the room. I’m wearing all black with a beret tilted on top of my head, dramatically reading this poem, and when I reach those three words at the end (not the glass), I say it with harsh emotion.

Here’s the poem. Try to visualize that scene.


She waits with breath that is bated for the tainted glass to clear.
Head bowed, she softly sings hymns to herself.
Popping sounds like cracking ice, spider webs the glass.
Her fingers feverishly worries over beads of crimson tears.
Dawn turns to dusk and dusk turns to night.
Her breath materializes before her, crystalized on a wolf’s ruff.
Still she waits, a skipped record caught in repetitive motion.
The tainted glass never clears, the cracks frozen in place.
Taut skin withers away like a bird shedding feathers.
A radiant light blows through the glass.
She shatters into brilliant colors.
A joyful squeal erupts like gulls gliding toward the horizon.
Understanding blooms in a vast meadow of eternity.
Branded thoughts of others were tainted, not the glass.
Not the glass!

That’s silly, huh?

Or maybe I just have an odd sense of humor. :)

Oh,well. I thought it was funny.

But did you get it?

The tainted glass was her spirit.

But, see? I’m totally not a poet. I’m sure I could be one if I worked at it.

Oh! In an earlier post I had said we were going to get my first live Christmas tree. I was thinking a cute little 3 or 4 foot tree.

Yeah, well, check this out.
Um, it’s not little. It’s like almost 7 feet tall.

Kevin wanted a tall tree, so there you have it.

It’s beautiful though.

As you can see, we still have the old, boxy TV. I refuse to buy a flat screen until this TV takes a crap. I mean, really. This TV works perfectly, and I’m happy with it.

Well, have a good weekend you guys and be safe.