Fear of Intimacy

It's a great morning! It's Friday! I have no pressing responsibilities and no place I have to be until Sunday. I'm thinking in iambic meter :o)
It's one of those georgeous fall days in the Midwest - sun shining, leaves turning. I have a cup of good, strong coffee at hand, Emma at my feet and life is generally good; so naturally this inspires me to write a 'downer' poem, lol. Go figure.


You frighten me
My guard is up
I’m not letting you in

I pull my fears
Around me close,
Just like a second skin

And there you sit,
Smug smile in place,
Assured that you will win

You pour a glass
For each of us
-Always how you begin…

We thrust and parry
Back and forth;
I can't help it, I grin

That’s close enough,
Arm’s length for you.
Let’s just enjoy our gin

Entreatingly
You look at me;
Resolve starts wearing thin

My fears recede
As you advance -
My head now starts to spin

Then I decide
It’s worth the risk
And finally let you in.

Empty

Here is a little offering. The lines, "Inspiration stalks us/ through gloom" are from HD's Trilogy. It's an amazing piece. I just went back and read it again, and it leaves me awed. HD you rock!

Empty

Some days
The words don't come
And the rain does
As HD said
Inspiration stalks us
Through gloom
But she is not always a good tracker
And the page remains
As empty as
My heart

Sunday Scribblings #234 - Love

Love

It strikes like a bolt of lightening
Out of the blue;
And we are left,
Wondering where to hide the bodies

Random Question:

Why does Oktoberfest in LaCrosse start in September???
Am I the only one who thinks that's odd? Just wondering.

Autumn

It isn't officially autumn for a couple days, but it feels and looks and smells like fall in Wisconsin today. This is a poem I wrote awhile ago that I still like. I think it describes September in Wisconsin pretty well.

September

September is the turning time.
As Monarchs move to warmer lands
They foreshadow
Flashing, falling leaves
Of Autumn’s cloak.

She empties her cupboards
Feeding us left-over summer,
Grown limp and wilted
Towards the end,
Making room for fresh fall days
And mellow nights.

She is generous with her garden.
Treasure lies buried in potato hills,
Round, red raspberries bejewel bushes,
And golden mums heap
Beyond the wildest dreams of Midas.

September gives us faith.
There is enough;
We can move past the point
Where light and shadow
Balance on the fulcrum
Of autumnal equinox.

Then scarlet Sumacs
Wave good bye to Summer
And beckon Autumn, “Come.”

Emma

This all started through procrastination. This morning when I couldn't sleep I was looking at Sunday Scribblings, thinking I'll get in there early and do their weekly writing prompt. Well, this week's word is 'Treatment' and nothing much stirred in the 'little grey cells.' Soooo I decided to look at last week's word, since I didn't then, when last week's word was this week's (got that? good, glad one of us does). So, last week the writing prompt was 'Wait' and I looked at a few other people's peices on waiting, and started thinking about it. And then I started thinking about things worth waiting for.
And then Emma, my 12-year-old, Chocolate Lab-bat cross, who can tell time, comes to me, wagging and expectant at 6:42 AM. Meal times for Emma are 7:00 AM and 5:00 PM, but she lives in hope. She lives in hope that I will ignore the curse of the digital time read out at the lower right corner of my computer screen and just FEED HER! So I caress her head, scratch her ear, look into those lovely brown eyes - and melt. For Emma the wait is over. And my procrastination, which has led to musings on waiting has led finally to a little poem about hope!

Emma sits
Beside the dish
Hoping
I will forget
That meal time is
At 7:00
Hoping
At 6:42.
But I do not forget -
I relent

Prose Poem - Tracking

I think with some work this could be a good one:

Tracking

This morning
I open the door
Step out
And push through
The new-fallen snow.
It’s already tracked
By deer, and rabbit and squirrel.
I follow their tracks
Through the yard,
Across the garden
And into the field.

Tracks are clues,
Tell-tale signs;
And what do my tracks
Reveal?
Where have I been
And what have I done?
Can you tell?

From the right perspective,
And with enough distance,
We can see
Our tracks form patterns,
Both intricate and haphazard.
They meet and mingle
With the tracks of others,
And those points
Of intersection
Are the most alarming
And lovely
Of all.