My love is not like chocolate

My love is not like chocolate
full of sweet promises
and empty calories
endlessly succumbing to waves of confection
with only momentary, illusive, pleasure.

My love is lasagna.
Layered, with sustenance,
and savory, side-by-side, with the sweet.
My love isn’t just sweet
it has meat,
and it will sustain you.

My love is not like chocolate
melting away when things get hot,
leaving you feeling pleasured, but hollow.
Looking, seeking,another bar of chocolate
when this one has gone.

My love is coffee.
Strong and bold,
meant for the cold,
able to wake you up
when things get a little boring.
My love isn’t just flavor
it’s loving labor.
I am caffeine in your tired soul.

My love is not like chocolate
Though, chocolate is bliss,
has a taste like stars
lighting your life up like fireworks.

My love is the moon.
Quiet and watchful
Steadfast and endless.
My love may not spark,
but it’s there when it’s dark.
and you need a path back
to where you most belong.

It doesn’t need attention
It exists because you do.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poems

Flap my wings

Break me of these habits
that whisper I am less
by holding my heart up to your mirror
instead of my own.

Show me how my love colors you
leaves you bright
and bursting with fresh energy
that resonates with worthwhile dreams.

Break me of these habits
so I can, at last,
see my value and know my worth.
I am given new wings
when you show me how to fly lighter.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poems

The plotting thickens

Planning time off for my vacation in January. Going back to the UK for 3 whole weeks. As Kermit is my witness,I will see London this time!!! Seriously, I have been to the UK 5 times and still have not been. Starting to become a joke among friends.

I wonder if I will end up snowed in at Schiphol airport again for 2 days. NIGHTMARE!!

Anyway, here are some cool British inspired designs I found online, just cause.

cocomale

teojasmin

union-jack-dresser

decor8blog

2014-07-09 02.02.07

Leave a comment

Filed under Poems

Signs your friends know you much too well

C: Bekki, Save, save,save…start living the life you should be with the man of your choice by your side.

M: That would either be Keanu Reeves or some soppy Korean actor that no one but Bekki has heard of outside of Korea! I’m not even sure if they would be all that well known inside Korea either come to think of it. Someone called Korea Reeves would probably be Bekki’s ideal man.

C: k then a poetry writing beany wearing slightly quirky Korea reeves.

My friends know me too well…the things they talk about when I am not around.

BUSTED!! Ps. How the heck do they even know this stuff?

Leave a comment

Filed under Poems

Pebble

Sameness sounds.

Repeating steps that go no place special.

This strangled heart times its beat

wondering where the light will come from,

if it comes at all.

I feel like pebbles in a palm

slipping unnoticed from fingers to floor.

Tide rushes in, tide rushes out

it doesn’t stop to wonder

what its changes bring the shore.

I am a small pebble in the big ocean

and I am weary of the tumbling of water

that leaves me again, and again,

alone on the shore.

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Poems

Ceiling cracks

 

I wonder at the ceiling

seeing so many nights pass.

Will this view be the one I see,

when I am 80?

I want a new ceiling,

I want fireworks

I want stars

I want warm eyes that gaze down

and burrow under my walls,

my bridges, my secret places.

I want clouds

and tree branches

the spaces between leaves,

where you hold your breath,

wanting the first thing I see,

when I wake,

to be your face

instead of a ceiling.

 

 

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Poems

Wet hen

What do you do, when it’s raining and your last 3 umbrellas met up with wind and resemble creative sculptures and made you reluctant to waste still more money? What do you do because you now have none and it’s pouring the kind of rain that has 100% chance of soaking you to the skin before you even reach the end of the block, let alone the bus stop where you will wait until the bus driver feels good and damned ready to show the hell up? What do you do? You get soaked anyway,cause thats what grown-ups do when they can’t afford to call in well. You put on your big girl panties and deal, even if you do wish you could trade them in for comfy boxers once in a while.

I need to buy a raincoat.

Today…was not a good day.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poems