I always wondered
what it would be like
to awake from night’s slumber
with a movie star by my side.
I couldn’t wait to see,
so I took a mirror to bed with me!
I always wondered
what it would be like
to awake from night’s slumber
with a movie star by my side.
I couldn’t wait to see,
so I took a mirror to bed with me!
Some rums are yum. Some/
are dumb. You can test them by/
sticking in your thumb
Fulfilling a promise I made on President Obama’s Inauguration Day, to write a poem or prose a daily, I’ve now more than doubled my self-imposed quota. Thanks to the muses — known and unknown — who have inspired me, and to my friends who expressed their belief in me. Inspired by Facebook’s “The Reflective Writer”, here is my 2000th poem, combining the two main themes of this blog: Romance and Revolution.
I love
my Revolution.
I embrace
change.
I woo
adapting.
I desire
adjustment.
It’s romantic,
isn’t it?
This self-propelled
repair;
this analysis
and violent rebirth;
this surgery
that let’s me
see
and be
who I am,
revolutionary.
Accepting change
means changing
the way we view
everything.
The revolution
heads down
from our brain,
up from our heart
and soul,
and out
our mouths
and fingertips.
But first,
we must love us
and the world.
We must romance
ourselves,
believing the world
needs love,
sweet love;
love is all you need.
And when we love ourselves,
and love the world,
we take that vow
of love.
We disavow
that fear
which holds us back
from revolutionary
acts.
We change
who we are,
Because we love;
Because we romanticize
life;
Because we embrace
joy;
Because a little revolution,
now and then,
is good for the soul.
And when we create revolution
in ourselves,
we extend how much
we can love.
Years ago,
revolutionaries spoke
from Capitol steps.
It was in this hope
and audacity,
that I vowed,
hopefully,
audaciously,
to start my own
revolution,
because I loved myself,
and wanted to romance
the world.
The revolution
called for one
a day.
One statement.
One thought.
One outpouring.
One lament.
One laugh.
One cry.
One moan.
One change.
One.
2,000 posts later,
this vowed daily one
has become
my expression
of romance,
love,
and revolution.
And I’m not done.
Join me.
My best friend told me:/
“If I was you, I’d kill me.”/
He doesn’t see joy.
Must I always be/
one who starts conversations?/
Should I be patient?
He was stuck in rain./
When, at last, the clouds parted,/
he missed the sunbeam.
When you’re expected/
to be there, and you vanish,/
people can get hurt.
I’ll get my pom-poms/
and do a loud cheer for you./
Will it make you smile?
She stared into/
her void. Her guide had never/
seen such emptiness.
OR
She stared into/
the void. Guides never saw such/
possibilities.