Love/Anti-Love

The two-for-Tuesday dual prompt today (for our 23rd day of the challenge) was to write a love/anti-love poem. I think I’ve covered that here. We’ll see what you think.

Cyrano

Ever the poet,
ever the gentleman warrior,
he suffered no fool gladly
and bested all
with his sword play
and rapier wit.

Yet his one weakness,
his one soft spot,
was for the lovely
Roxane.

Pining ever, loving truly,
Cyrano tried to impress
his lovely cousin,
yet the bounds of family
kept her from seeing
his passion true.

And when she confessed her love
for another
he did not kill the oaf,
though he surely could have done,
no, he helped the man win
Cyrano’s only love;
Roxane’s happiness weighed more
to him than his.

***

Roxane

Beautiful, and quite an
intellectual,
yet, she was prey
to the remarkable good looks
of Christian de Neuvillette.

If only he was as smart,
as dashing,
as brave,
as witty,
as her beloved cousin.

And when he seemed to be
what she had always wanted
in a man,
she did not question
her good fortune,
she only embraced
what was offered,
and was glad.

Yet long years later,
still grieving his loss, loving
a dead man,
comforted by her
Cyrano,
she discovers, too late,
that the man she truly loved
was before her
all along.

Cyrano dies,
believing himself truly alone,
yet rejecting anything
that would compromise his
principles,
he dies, his honor
intact.

Beyond

The prompt for day 20 of the poem-a-day challenge is to use the word, “Beyond.”

This one took some time and thought. I’m not sure I’m quite happy with it yet, but this is what I’ve got.

Beyond the Ramparts

If I look beyond the ramparts
and down into the valley,
beyond all my father’s vanguards,
to the place we go to dally.

I know father would be so angry
if he knew where I sometimes go
but I find myself longing and hungry
for what father does not know.

So I get my basket for flowers,
my cloak and sturdiest shoes,
and go wander the valley for hours
looking for flowers and you.

And sometimes, if so fortune favors
we will find each other there.
We kiss, as the friendliest neighbors,
and you pull the pins from my hair.

And oh, how the time swiftly hurries
as over the hillsides we roam
We often forget all our worries,
until it is time to go home.

My father is getting suspicious.
He’s starting to have me watched.
The thing is, he’s also ambitious,
and the last match he made is all botched.

If your folks would have a discussion
with father, maybe he’ll deal.
If he learns of the repercussion,
my pregnancy, our love we’ll seal,

Then perhaps he will reconsider
his senseless antipathy,
selling me to the highest bidder.
Perhaps he will give you to me.

Burn

The prompt for this 19th day of the poem-a-day challenge is to write a ‘burn’ poem. I have a couple here today. There were too many ideas, I couldn’t help it!

How to Start a Fire
(advice for new lovers)

Prepare carefully.
Have everything you need
at hand
before you begin.

Plenty of oxygen is essential,
as is plenty of tinder,
but try not to use too much;
things will burn quickly, and
if it is too quick,
everything will be over too soon.

Sometimes, that is too
discouraging to try again.

Don’t give up;
some fires are slower to start
than others.
Take your time.

And have a bucket of water
available
in case things get
out of control.

***

Once you have wings
just remember not to fly
too close to the sun

Possible/Impossible

Impossible:
to keep a dry eye
to stop seeing the pain
to look away from the carnage
to not want to help in some way.

Possible:
People running into danger to help
News media not jumping to conclusions
Strangers, bystanders, all working together to save lives
Marathoners finish the marathon then run to donate blood

Impossible
to understand hatred
to be as hateful myself
to determine motivations of an evil mind
to keep the suffering of strangers out of my mind

Possible:
Love
Gratitude
Forgiveness
Comforting one another

In Case of ________

The prompt was to write a poem with the beginning “In Case of ____.” I’ve come up with two in record time, and since today promises to be as busy as ever, a good thing, too.

Thanks for the visit, dear reader. ^_^

In Case of Love, Break Heart

Another four letter word
escaped my lips
but you blanched like never before.
I haven’t heard from you since.

Could it be something I said?

***

In the Case of the Wandering Clue

My motto has always been,
“Don’t let others’ behavior
change who you are,”
which is a good motto.

Unless the other person
relies on your trust
to betray you again
and
again.

Unless the other person
relies on your innocence
to turn the tables
and make you feel that
you are the one with
the evil mind and unfounded
suspicions.

Unless the other person
relies on your refusal to be sneaky
to be sneaky in return,
to hide things in plain sight
(the long blonde hair in the shower;
the emails never read;
the love letters unfound;
the secret bank accounts;
the receipts for restaurants and hotels).

So now, my motto is only a little different:
“Don’t let others’ behavior
change who you are,
unless you have a bad feeling about it.
In that case, trust your feelings.”

Suffering

The prompt today was to write about suffering. When I am uncomfortable with the idea of sharing, I figure I must be doing something right. This isn’t as light as the past few days have been.

I’m not alone.

I’m not lonely.

Am I?

I try for a hug,
you allow only so much
contact
before you slide away.

I give a compliment
and in return you
mock my words,
aiming them at your
self-deprecating
grin, and slow
zombie shuffle,
showing me how dumb
it would be to love
you.

You don’t allow me in
-timacy.

But when I ask myself why
you are so self ef
-facing, backward
looking, I remember
your parents’ cold marriage.
They stayed together
“for the kids,” thus
teaching you that marriage
was nothing more than a c(hilly)
companionship.

No wonder I be
-fuddle, be
-wilder, just be
-ing my passionate
self.

Instructional

Today’s prompt was to write an instructional poem. This is already day 8 of the April Poem-a-Day challenge. This gets more fun each year. ^_^

How to Raise a Rebel

Dance.
Show up.
Have pets.
Give hugs.
Learn CPR.
Laugh. A lot.
Lead by example.
Unconditional love.
Be their superhero.
Show her museums.
Take them on vacation.
Never talk in baby-talk.
Make him earn that car.
Watch them in the water.
Make her think for herself.
Take time for yourself, too.
Teach him to follow recipes.
Challenge his belief system.
Don’t say, “Because I said so.”
Let her be sad when she’s sad.
Make time for one-on-one time.
Show them how to forgive freely.
Teach him to do his own laundry.
Don’t let her show too much skin.
Punish appropriately to the crime.
Let her pick the music sometimes.
Don’t give him everything he wants.
Give him chores; make him do them.
Make him sign up for teams or clubs.
Hold her when she has a broken heart.
Be willing to compromise occasionally.
Give her extra money if she works for it.
Give an allowance, not based on chores.
They need reasons for things. Give them.
Let him choose his own clothes, crazy or not.
Yes, your teenager has to go on vacation, too.
Never allow the word “hate” to be flung about.
Let them choose their own drinks at McDonalds.
Stand up for him to his teachers, but be realistic.
Have meals together every day, and talk to them.
Know who their friends are. Invite them to dinner.
Listen when they’re talking. It could be important.
Teach them to know what they want and how to get it.
Talk about your past; they need to know you have one.
When you criticize people, they learn to be critical too.
Talk about their future; they need to know they have one.
If you pay her cell phone bill, she has to answer your calls.
Teach her to change her own tire and jump start her battery.
They may complain, but secretly, they want you to be strict.
Take them to the funeral; they need to know that life is finite.
Even if you do everything right, sometimes you fail. Forgive yourself.

Hold That ______

Fourth of April – fourth day of the Poem-a-Day challenge! The prompt was to write a poem beginning “Hold That ___.” The result is below.

Hold That Moment

A habit I’ve gotten into,
holding a moment in my mind,
has proven helpful in my life.
As a child, when I felt wronged or
tormented or blissful, even,
I would tell myself to never
forget that moment, nor ever
forget the wild intensity,
or the joy, or the anguish in
-herent in a moment, but to keep
each memory alive, not for
revenge or some shallow reason,
but so I would remember when
I had kids of my own, just how
something felt to me. I made it
a mission of sorts, this learned em
-pathy. I made it a habit,
too, and as a teen, and later
as an adult, the ghost of the
memories would haunt me, not in
a scary, bad way, but in an
“Oh-yes,-I-remember-how-this
-feels” way that has stood me in good
stead. I tell you this, not to oh
-verly praise myself, but to oh
-pen an idea in your mind,
a notion that might someday make
all the difference.

Flashy Fiction

I did a little flashy fiction on Sunday. I’ve included the prompt so you can keep up with the idea.

***

You’re browsing through the shelves of the poetry section at the library. As you select an ancient book of love poems, a note falls to the floor.  It is folded into fourths, and yellowed with age. You uncrease it carefully, and settle in to read, discovering it’s an old love letter. 

What does it say? Was it ever sent? Tell the story behind the letter. 

***

You find a letter in a book of poetry by William Blake. It is next to the poem,

“Love’s Secret.”

Never seek to tell thy love,

Love that never told can be;

For the gentle wind doth move

Silently, invisibly.

I told my love, I told my love,

I told her all my heart,

Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears.

Ah! she did depart!

Soon after she was gone from me,

A traveller came by,

Silently, invisibly:

He took her with a sigh. –

 

The letter reads:

My darling,

I know you love Blake, and my hope is that you will eventually get to this volume. His words are sweet, but not as sweet as the love I feel for you. I placed it in this volume beside “Love’s Secret.” You understand.

You may never get this, but I can hope, because this is the only explanation I have been able to improvise. I know you must wonder why I disappeared the way I did. Family pressures have become unendurable. I was made to live with my grandparents for some months. I went half mad with worry for you, but I was kept from the telephone and am watched continually. I was only able to contrive this letter because they allow me books from the library, though I am never allowed to go choose them myself. I have been asking for William Blake, though, and this was the best I could do to try and explain.

I am a virtual prisoner. But my heart still aches for you. I fear a marriage is being arranged, and soon I will be sent across the country to live with my new husband, probably in some town on the frontier, rife with danger and far, too far, from you. I am desolate. If only I could see you just one more time, and kiss you goodbye at the very least. But my parents will never understand our love.

Just remember I love you, and always have.

Yours forever,

Anne

[In a different hand, this addition follows the original letter.]

Dearest Anne,

I have been in an unendurable state since your disappearance. I have shunned all my usual habits; even my reading has fallen away. It has been some years since last we met. I only lately discovered this letter, and my heart again is broken.  I have read and reread your words, so fondly I remember you that I can hear your very voice.

Your family has refused to even speak to me, let alone tell me where you have gone or what your name is now.

Perhaps, one day, my dear, you will see this addendum. I live in hope that the fates will once more bring us two together; but if not this life, perhaps the next.

Always your loving

Elizabeth

 

(For more about William Blake, see http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19961#sthash.czEbQSbE.dpuf )

 

 

Baby

Today’s prompt was to write a “baby” poem. I found this little Triolet wafting around my brain.

***

Baby

Back in the days when I thought I’d
always be your baby. “Don’t leave
so soon,” I so naively cried.
I never thought you’d make me grieve
back in the days when I thought I’d
always be your charming child bride.
How did you learn not to believe?
Back in the days when I thought I’d
always be yours. Baby, don’t leave.