Archive for friendship

The Test

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 11, 2009 by 1writegirl

On this test

My answers to
The questions
Pass back and forth
Telepathically

No pencils, templates
Or cramming involved

It’s a Life Test
That has to do
With things

Like knowing when
To reach out
Your hand
And when to
Hold it back

And wait to be
Reached for

Accepting with
The gut
What the mind
Already knows

That genuine caring
For someone
Isn’t about

Restrictions
Belonging
Persuading

But rather about
Freedom

Of expression
Of movement
Of self

Trusting they know
You are there
For
Them

Whether or not
You are there
With
Them

Throwing aside all
Preconceived notions
And worn out
Ill-fitting
Attitudes

Offering up
Instead

The most
Valuable
Gift
You can
Give

The acknowledgement
That their truth is

Just as real

Every bit
As justified

Equally
As driving

As
Your own

My ’59 Ford Pickup

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 23, 2009 by 1writegirl

I’ve had cars that are
Fast and shiny
Spotless and flashy
With hi-tech devices

Cars that are sporty
With removeable tops
Leather interiors and
Turbo engines

0 to 60 in 3.9

Cars that are trusty
Dependable
Plain inside and out
That start up every time
No matter how hot or cold

But I gave them away
One by one
None of them had what it took
To fill my particular heart
With what it wanted to hold

Then I found it one day
When I wasn’t shopping
It caught my eye
And I never looked back

A 59 Ford pickup

It had a few dents
Rust in places
It had seen a lot of miles
It was black, my favorite color
With a rip in the driver’s seat

It only started
Every tenth time
I got in and turned the key

So I parked it in the shade
Of a weeping willow
And talked to it more
Than I drove it

I gave it baths
Kept it gassed up
Waxed it now and then
So that it would be ready
When it got ready
To take me for a ride

And on those days
When it started up
I’d roll the windows down
Crank up the music
Throw my head back
And drive till the tank was empty

I’d come home late
And go to bed
Tired but happy from my joyride
Remembering the sound
Of its purring engine
The feel of my hands on the wheel

I was crazy for that pickup
I never wanted another

I kept that truck as long as I could
As long as time allowed
Until one day it started no more
Its way of saying goodbye

It thought I should get a Ferrari

But I’d had enough driving
So I turned in my license
There’s too much risk involved
Too much potential for head-on collision
I figured I’d rather walk

But sometimes late at night
When my heart aches
And I just can’t sleep

I walk out into the yard
Over to the weeping willow

And lay my head upon the windshield
Trail my hand over the hood
Drape my body across the tailgate
And listen to the sound of a song

That I only ever heard

While driving with the radio off
In my 59 Ford pickup

Fainting Memories

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 26, 2009 by 1writegirl

El Toro Memorial Park
Bears no resemblance whatsoever
To a bull

Even in aeriel view

It isn’t a park
Though it has lots of grass
You can’t
Jog
Picnic
Walk your dog
Or even throw a Frisbee

Nor does it provide any memories
Merely remains
Which you can visit from
Time to time
If you choose

Bring your own memories

I went there to say goodbye
To my friend
Though I’d said it already
Since August first
Again and yet again

This time in the presence
Of others
In a court with
God presiding

I whispered and laid a rose
Into the vault of her ashes
Blinking hard to keep the tears
Behind my Jackie-O shades

Wobbling on my heels
Sure I would topple over
Faint from summer heat
Empty stomach, aching heart
And the ritual rhetoric
Entrenched in these affairs

And if I did, I told myself
I’d just lay there
Beside my friend
Flat on my back
No need to get up
No reason to rush away

Let everyone else
Trickle off
And leave us together
Alone

One final
Moment between us

But I didn’t faint
Nor say goodbye
It seemed a
Superfluous gesture

For she’s been to see me
More than once
Since she quietly slipped away
And I know she’ll visit again

Roaming the skies of my slumber

Feeding fainting memories
Of a life too soon withdrawn

To tell me
One more story
To ask me for a joke

To give me her leftover hope
Of no use to her
Anymore

To say
Now chin, chin,
Then grin

Letting me know
It’s okay

The Prism

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 26, 2009 by 1writegirl

Why do you stay with me?
He asked
In a voice wracked with pain

You know why
She replied
Though she could have asked
That question herself
In the seductive shadow of sleep

She sometimes wonders
Why she stays
When he rarely seeks her out
And needs her even less

When he won’t let her cross
The threshold
To that place free of
Have-to’s and fears

But between the lines
Behind three little words
Is the answer to his question

The truth lies there, a prism
In colors of intricate depth

She stays

Because to be close to him
In any way he’ll let her
Brings her moments of

Simple, perfect peace
In a life of chaos and strife

Because he’s teaching her
What it means
To accept someone

Completely

For everything they are
And everything they are not

Because he won’t lie to her

Because she can make him laugh

Because it’s okay in his presence
To say not a single

Word

Because she’s learning how
To trust
After having been betrayed

Because he tells her
She is one
Of only three people on earth
He can speak to
From brain to mouth

Which gives her courage
To reciprocate
To confide any thoughts she has

Even ones he might wish
She didn’t

Because in his arms
She understands freedom
And can’t imagine
Another man’s kiss

Because he’s hard
Rough
Gentle
Sweet
Bitter
Angry
Loveable
Tormented
Brilliant
Weak
Hopeless
Loving
Strong
Insecure
Hopeful
Imbalanced
Honest
Broken
Real

He makes her crazy
Yet he touches her
In places she needs to be touched
Where no one else can reach

Because with him
She’s a better person
Than she could ever be
Without

Because he’s
Her best friend
And one of these days
He might look at her

And see that she is his

And then
She won’t need to ask him

Why do you stay with me?

Close Enough To Hold On

Posted in Prose with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on September 19, 2009 by 1writegirl

He is drowning

I wade in as far as I can
As far as he will let me
Stay back, he yells
I do as he says

Pulling branches from the shore
Extending them in his direction
Grab on, I call
But his arms barely move

I watch his head go under
I am frozen with fear
Then he resurfaces
Eyes wild
Choking on black water

Just leave, he says
Get away while you can
Don’t try and save me

Don’t be a fool

But something rises inside me
I dare not give it a name
And this time I don’t listen
To what he tells me to do

Instead I reach into my soul

And look around for something to throw
For something that floats
For anything

Then I begin to toss them
In his direction
One by one

The flotsam and jetsam
Of a disappointed life
Tattered and battered
But alive still with hope

It’s all I’ve got
Hoping they might land

Close enough to touch him
Close enough to move him
Close enough he can reach them

Close enough to hold on

Cover

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 13, 2009 by 1writegirl

angels

Curl up in my wings
For as long
As you need

I’ll cover you

I’ll make not a sound
I’ll guard against trespass
Surround you with downy embrace

I’ll block out the light
Tend to your wounds

With my body I’ll take on
The driving wind
With my soul the demons
Relentless

I’ll fight for your reprieve

In the shadows of possibility
I’ll sway to the beat of your heart
Bearing only the weight of
A silver snake

Bartered for the price of
An unfettered moment
Guileless, ghostless and free

And when the inevitable happens
When fate takes me aside
Ordaining without preamble
My turn to come undone

When my fears slide greedily
Over the transom
In wraiths of
Perpetual motion

When I’m battered
Bruised, too weary
And you
Are the only place
Safe left for me

Curl me up in your wings
For as long
As I need

Curl me up and

Cover me

I Will

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on September 8, 2009 by 1writegirl

I will

Tell you if you have green stuff stuck in your teeth

Never ask you to live in a house
With a white picket fence

Respect your need for solitude

Dance for you…

I will

Be flexible

Speak from brain to mouth
Without filtration

Massage your tired body

Not pretend
Neither shape
Nor expect…

I will

Always love Mamita
Even when she’s old and sick

Care what you think
Feel
Want

Cover you

Trust you…

I will

Help you when I can

Remain your biggest fan

Look you in the eye

Hold what you can give and
Give what you can hold…

I will

Always be on your side

Inseparable

Posted in Prose with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on August 31, 2009 by 1writegirl

For Mikey and Smokey

They are
Inseparable

This woman and man

He touches her hair
As if it’s woven of
Black gold

She looks into his eyes
Like they hold
All the answers

His hand reaches out and grazes
Her arm
While walking or sitting
Or standing in line

And she falls asleep each night
On his chest
When he pulls her on top of him
Saying

Get closer

I know for a fact that
They argue at times
Each understands the other is
Imperfect

Yet he sees an angel
A goddess in her
And she sees a hero
A man worth devotion

In a godless world devoid of substance
Inclined toward
Frenetic accumulation
Of that which will

Tear you down

They have set aside
Notions

Of greener grass
Of biding time and
Playing fields

Choosing instead
To see that angel
To adore that hero

And embrace in its limelight
The strength from being

Inseparable

Meet me

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , on August 18, 2009 by 1writegirl

Meet me

In the hayloft of the old
abandoned barn…

On the corner of
5th and Elm…

Behind the shed
Down the alley
At the water’s edge

Under the railroad tracks
Over the bridge
Beyond the forest

Up the avocado tree
Past the highway
Across the meadow wide

After the sun sets
Before the moon rises
As the tide comes in

In front of ghosts, shadows
Memories and demons

Outside of the box…

Meet me

A Rose Under the Snow

Posted in Prose with tags , , , , , , on July 14, 2009 by 1writegirl

My hand reaches to that place at the base of my throat
Where it is used to resting
And touching
And finding comfort

In a silver symbol of possibility
Given to me by someone
I believe in

The necklace is gone –

An act of defiance
A demand for respect
An entreaty to let go of the fear —

Yet its silhouette lingers
In little bursts of light
And long, tender dreams

Against the odds
A rose under the snow

My hand falls back
And lands by my side
Empty

And open