Making Love

Class Assignment, April 2006

Making Love

It is not as it seems, it is hard to describe,

It is something unique, it is more than a vibe.

Brotherly love is what we are to share

With every other person from here to there.

I, being myself, have many different ways

Of making my own kind of love each day.

I make love to my family by showing how I care,

By doing dishes, vacuuming, cutting my brother’s hair;

I go through life showing them how

Not to do some certain things – Holy cow!

I make love to my friends by just being there,

Listening to their issues. When asked, I share

Not only my opinion but also my advice.

To receive the same in return is somewhat rare, but nice.

I tease them when they do something funny;

I sometimes give in when they’re asking for money.

There is more love for me to make,

But that’s in the future, so I must wait.

I’ll make love to my husband in more ways than one

Oh don’t be silly, you knew it was coming, Hon!

I’ll comfort him when he’s sad and wants to be dead,

I’ll help him rejoice when he’s 40 and has hair on his head.

I’ll make love to our children, each and every one;

Especially when they’re little, when their lives have just begun.

I’ll drive them and teach them the ways that are true

At least what I’ve been learning since I was two.

I’ll make love to my family by cleaning the house,

Purchasing groceries and killing that mouse.

I’ll love them and hold them ‘cause that’s what I do,

Making love is what I do best! I don’t doubt it, do you?

Beauty

Original, April 2006

Beauty

What is beauty?

Is beauty a thing to be grasped?

One people says yes;

Crushed colors sit lightly atop eyelids and cheeks.

Bat manure blackens the lashes

(There is a price to pay for beauty).

Shades of red and orange grace the lips

To bring them out for the world to see.

Flesh colored powder covers up the pimples and blemishes,

In other words, all the imperfections.

Once the face has been applied,

Next come the short shorts and skirts

Which leave absolutely nothing to the imagination.

Breasts the size of infant children are what attract men,

Especially when shown to the world through tiny transparent shirts.

If she weighs between 100 and 110, she’s perfect;

Small boned and skinny is what the men are looking for,

At least that’s the myth.

Long, flowing blond hair

Frames the false face that must be put on.

Those with short brown hair

Make monthly trips to the hair salon

To become the image of beauty,

Like the rest of the blond beauties.

Those with red hair,

They become urban legends;

Supposedly they exist

But are as rare as a four leaf clover.

Then there is the other people

Who instead of dressing up

Wear themselves on the outside.

Their personality is what they show the most of,

Making that their main attraction.

Are they found attractive by men?

Is personality all it takes to achieve attractiveness?

Does outward beauty count for nothing?

Do they truly believe in the philosophy in which they live?

Or are they just ugly and use this philosophy as an excuse to be attractive to themselves?

What or who defines beauty?

Men need it,

Women live for it,

But who has it?

If beauty is in the eye of the beholder,

Can there even be a standard for beauty?

What is beauty?

Is it something to be grasped

Or something that comes from within?

Can beauty be bought

Or is it simply what lies beneath the surface?

God Fits Into Me

Class Assignment, March 2006

God fits into me

Inspired by You Fit Into Me by Margaret Atwood

you fit into me

like a hand inside a glove

a dirty glove

a worthy hand

I Go Back to March 2004

Class Assignment, March 2006

I Go Back to March 2004

Inspired by “I Go Back to May 1937” by Sharon Olds

I see them standing in front of the cozy lodge,

Smiling and happy, holding their smooth, icy skis in their gloved hands

Waiting for their picture to be taken.

They will discover new love,

They will graduate high school,

They will make friends,

They will turn their friends into foes,

I want to go up to them and say Stop,

She is the one you’ll end up with,

He is not for you,

You can do better for yourself,

You will push your friends away,

But I don’t do it.

I want to marry,

I want to grow,

Do what you are going to do.

I will learn to cope.

Friends 'Till the End

Original, March 2006

Friends ‘Til the End

Forever is not reality

She will go her way

And I will go mine

Friends like we used to be

Is what we dream of

Each of us dreamed

While we were in grade school

That when each of us took our turn

Wearing the white dress

The other would be there

To share our happiness

In the color of our choice

After the ceremony

In the years to come

We would have coffee and lunch

To reminisce about the past

From childhood to present

And the childhood that is to be

In about 9 months and after

Sitting on the porch drinking lemonade

Sharing pictures and stories

Of our children and theirs

Laughing at how similar our children are

To us when we were that age

Looking back on all we'd been through together

Standing on the grave of my beloved

Tears falling to the ground

She held me as I cried

She comforted me

As only a lifelong friend could

Standing at the gates of the cemetery

Only a few yards away

Is where she lay

We always wondered who would last

I lay beside the tombstone

As if she were there beside me

Just like when we were kids

And the room was dark

When we giggled until sunrise

About the boy that gave us a valentine

We promised to be friends forever

Forever is not reality

I didn’t know it would end so soon.

Tears Like Rain

Original, December 2005

Tears Like Rain

The rain falls like flakes in a blizzard.

Tears roll down her cheeks.

The rain comes and no one knows why she hurts so.

So introverted, she keeps her thoughts inside.

She feels like she’s the only one.

The pain she feels will never leave,

The torment, the battle, it will always be…

Or so she believes.

If only she knew how much I care,

If only she knew the love I have for her.

Hot tears run over the dried paths of the tears before,

Renewing her soft, wet cheeks.

The tears dry and become crusted, clinging to her beautiful face.

Then the new ones come, hotter and bitterer than the last.

It hurts me so, to see her suffer, I reach out my hand.

She knows I’m always there, though not always seen.

She wants so desperately to come, but bitterness holds her back.

Why she doesn’t come, I don’t know. I know she loves me.

She knows I’m here, she knows what I’ve done for her.

Days go by, waiting for something to happen.

Finally she lets go.

With her tear-stained face and her glossy, red eyes, she looks at me.

She gets up off her knees and stands.

Pathetic and miserable, she looks down again and walks towards me.

As she leans into my chest, my arms wrap around her.

Fresh, hot tears roll down her already drenched face.

She says, “God, help me.”

I pull her chin up, her eyes fix on mine.

“I’ve got you baby. There’s no need to worry.”

She finally relaxes and wraps her arms around me.

The rain pours down around us with no end in sight.

Though everything is still there, all the problems, perils and such,

She knows she’s safe in my arms.

She lets her guard down and lets me inside.