I see so many dating profiles where people categorize themselves as being a “Hopeless Romantic”. To such women, I wrote this:
Nobody/
should ever be/
a hopeless romantic./
That would be tragic./
Always be hopeful.
Then life’s more full.
Others will draw near
when we’re full of cheer.
The optimistic me
is who women would rather see.
And it also is true:
I prefer a hopeful you.
It brings me heartfelt sorrow and duress
to watch romantics wallow in hopelessness.
For my family’s Valentine’s Day
I thought I’d make a bouquet
showing our German ancestry
as they crossed the sea.
They departed from Bremen
to seek a new land’s safe haven
on the Sovereign Ship Leipzig:
a two funnel/two mast rig.
In “stearage” the small family came,
Just five with misspelled Geerdts name;
One suitcase each as they came ashore
under Fort McHenry’s watch in Baltimore.
With little more than their love, hope and trust
they paved the way. Happy Valentine’s to us!
She said she is stubborn.
That brings a thrill
when you’re looking for someone
Who is just so strong willed.
With brightly flashing eyes,
With a firmly set jaw;
It came as no surprise:
I liked what I saw.
Someone who likes independence.
Someone who’s waltzed through strife.
Someone with whom I could take a chance
At this dance we call life.
With someone not afraid to go solo, I think it would be fun!
And so I’ll shout “Let’s go! Come on! Get it on!”
It seems you cannot wash away
false tales of the Scarlet A.
No matter how untrue,
those rumors will follow you.
You can be washed pure and clean,
and know in your heart what repentance means,
as you are forgiven and changed with His love,
and readied for His courts above.
Yet others (who may be meaning well,)
will false tales and gossip tell.
And you may never have the chance
to clear your name or learn the circumstance.
So stand strong, even in pain. Sometimes all you can do
is remember again how He’s forgiven you.
Two friends
now stand at the same door
I had once entered
and exited, before.
One is heading out.
One might go in.
One is fleeing darkness.
One might embrace sin.
She who is leaving,
(as I also learned,)
knows the folly of entering;
knows evil should be spurned.
I will weep for joy as the one comes out,
and cry in anguish ‘til the other turns about.
A long time since
she was blown away
by his response
to Bacon’s beauty.
She was worrying
he might be “too intense”,
but still was pondering:
Could he love thus? 110 percent?
She rejoiced at his understanding,
writ with well-worded intelligence,
comprehending the hidden deeper meaning
of what Sir Francis meant.
Then her never-ending silence
left him wondering where she went.
She reeled him in/
with her smile,/
as though made just for him:/
Beautiful, without guile.
She then (sadly) made him wait
as she nodded sleepily.
He could only anticipate
and try not to do so creepily.
Her smile and her profile
made him seek more.
He’d wait awhile;
what was he looking for?
But then she announced he could not be her mate.
His dreams she trounced: “Like Cinderella, it’s too late!”
The roses were dead once he picked them.
The chocolate, she said, made her fat.
The kitchen wasn’t remodeled like she wanted.
And now look at where she is at.
Remember each time he surprised her
with a new dress that was colored wrong?
Or the theater tickets that were on a bad night?
Or the album that had the wrong song?
Just like that coastal vacation
when she said she’d rather stay home.
Or when he reserved a place at that nice restaurant:
He hopes that she’s happy alone.
She can gaze at her jewels: The few things he got right.
Perhaps they’ll warm her as she sleeps by herself tonight.
OR
The roses were dead once I picked them.
The chocolate, you said, made you fat.
The kitchen wasn’t remodeled like you wanted.
And now look at where you are at.
Remember each time I surprised you
with a dress that was colored wrong.
Or the theater tickets that were on a bad night.
Or the album that had the wrong song.
Just like that coastal vacation
when you said you’d rather stay home.
Or when I reserved a place at that nice restaurant:
I hope that you’re happy alone.
You can gaze at your jewels: At least I got those right.
I hope they warm you as you sleep by yourself tonight.
When the mood is right,/
and his brain works in time,/
he takes delight/
thinking in verse and rhyme.
He gets inspiration/
from many a source./
There’s no frustration/
as creativity runs its course.
His brain thinks aloud/
in a myriad of forms./
what others see through a shroud,/
he views as the norm.
As he views life and thinks upon it,/
he can write haiku, free verse or sonnet.
I heard the sad news today:/
You’ve gone to play with your friends./
I hope you find the blues way:/
The love town where music never ends.
In your honor I’m gonna eat/
A mess of grits and stuff./
You left us behind on Beale Street/
‘cuz our blues ain’t yet good enough.
I’m sure that Etta’s waiting./
Jellyroll and Stevie Ray, too./
I’ll bet Lucille’s anticipating:/
All tuned up just for you.
May God in His grace, knowing who you are,/
See your smiling face, and make your harp strings a guitar.
When Love Comes To Town (with Bono and U2https://youtu.be/r3wgoaONzwo