Urges

got the urge to graffiti,  no surface is safe
JR all in hearts all over each notebook
our names linked up on the trunk of each tree
love poems 'bout longing on arched tunnel walls
your face spray painted on the side of a train

got an overwhelming urge for public proclamation
choose I LOVE JASON! as my Facebook status
Kate and Jason on every billboard 'tween here and Texas
drape a banner off the side of each highway overpass
invest in a sleeve of tattoos of your name

got an urge to give up the rest just to chase you
quit my jobs, clear my schedule, fill it only with you
spend my days dreamin' 'bout loving you better
run away to Tahiti where we can stroll on the sand
or just to a playground, we can swing on the swings

You've Gotta Get Out

you've gotta get out
of my spinning thoughts
'cause I can't focus
and I can't finish nothin'
my mind's a whir o maybe and someday and please
I've got bills to pay
and lessons to plan
and laundry to sort
and homeschool to grade
and conversations to be present in, list'nin

you've gotta get out
of my tumbled dreams
'cause I wake up more
tired than I lay down
runnin' round all night long just to find you just to
hold your hand and heart
squeeze next to you close
not to mention all those
other things I can't
mention 'cept to say they'll happen one day, some day

you've gotta get out
of all those duties
that keep you miles
away from me and
so busy working and learning and parenting
and wrapped up in things
that aren't me mine me
everyone pullin'
you to-fro, back-forth
and come on back to stay, just playin' house with me

Questions

how do you know when you have what you wanted?
does it come barging in like thunder claps, shaking your core?
or tiptoeing in on silken feet, waking your soul?
is love a passion that consumes and devours?
or rather a comfort that envelopes and protects?
or is it simply the absence of fear?

Playin' at Being in Love

been sittin' waitin' and wishin' so long
i wonder if i've settled for make believe
like a black and white photo
of the impish little boy in a gray suitcoat,
sleeves swallowing up his hands,
she's in a petti-coated dress,
that the mind paints in bright yellow
with a parasol and a grin
just playin' at being in love

you sure feel real when we're talkin'
and your voice fills my head
and you say all those right things
droppin' hints 'bout forever
and it's my cheeks gettin' painted
all blush like the blossoms that
young casanova thrust at that sweet girl

but when the phone disconnects
the distance spreads out wide
and settles over me, thick, down, quilted
impractical love affair long on miles,
short on together, us, we, couple
full of hope, maybe, someday, later, when, if
almost like bein' alone and
just playin' at being in love

Gift of Silence

you are my sunshine

my only sunshine

you make me happy

when skies are gray.....

and you say you can't finish our song

but you hint

one day

someday

maybe

soon

you will sing it to the end

allusions and inferences

are your native tongue

don't spin webs with your tongue

with me

don't lead me down

winding word trails

i crave straight paths

well lit and marked

lay bare a dozen ugly truths

before feeding me a single pretty little lie

and if you can't, if you shouldn't, if you musn't

mention anything               yet

don't say anything

nothing at all

give me the gift

of silence

laying blame

your fault                                                                                                               my fault
the phone's ringing                                              sparks a craving to feast on your voice
your words, jewels and blossoms,                   trigger the ferocious speed of my pulse
as you wish                              twangs my heart, stops my breath, and brings on chills
sweet songs with secret meanings                          run on repeat, a constant serenade
the calendar- July 4,  Labor Day, Sept '16,       07/11/15,12/14/16- is a weighty thing
the things that were, are,                       and will be dance nightly through my dreams
                                                                                     

Idolatry

How many poems can I write about longing?
How many veiled references to secret affection?
How many ciphered love letters?

Been awhile since my last synthesized love affair.
Even longer since I played with the idol of poetry.
O, do you ever encourage me.

I know that I'm not yet allowed to say much.
So I write and write and write and spill it all.
Spinning grandeur from hope and maybes?

Maybe, but I justify and rationalize and say
At least I'm not mailing perfumed letters.
At least I'm not breathing hints on Facebook.

Am I hoping you'll find them all?
Anticipating the day you google my name
Decrypt, break code, interpret freely?

I'm playing with the fire that the spark
of my words could ignite in an instant
the one that will eventually escape

burning us both?

Word Choice

                                                                I almost blurted out
                                                        over lingering goodbyes
                                        words tripping over each other
                                        those few little velvety words
                                            for a shot of effervescence to satisfy
                            the just-a-little-further yearn
                      but I know better by now, o yes
 then to just hastily, clumsily toss words up
                                                                       
          and.                                                           
                  let.                                                              
                        them.                                        
                                   fall.                                   
                                           where.                          
                                                        they.                
                                                                 may.

Once Upon a Time

once upon a time

 there was a princess

  and she dropped her golden ball

   into a pond

    isn't that how the story goes?

     once upon a time

      a manipulative amphibian

       an opportunistic frog

        offered help

       in exchange for a kiss

      once upon a time,

     so the story goes

    the princess agreed

   the frog fetched the ball

  a kiss was exchanged

 and the slimy creature

was transformed into

 a prince, a PRINCE

  that's how the story goes

   not one to believe in fairy tales

    i taught my daughters young

     not to trust in

      once upon a time

       don't kiss the creature

        jump into the pond

       and grab your own damn ball

      frogs, my dears,

     never ever never

    turn into princes,

   that's how my story goes

  and there have been lots and lots

 dozens of frogs i've met

i meet them all the time

 offering favors galore

  in exchange for kisses

   and i haven't given them away

    those precious kisses

     i've held them tight

      that's been how my story goes

       until i met a new one and 

        he's a prince, a PRINCE

       if i had a golden ball

      i'd throw it deep into

     the first lake i found

    and cry just like

   once upon a time

  i'd offer up all those kisses

 i've been saving up for years

trade them all for a

 little golden ball

  or a handful of wild daisies

   or a promise

    but this prince

     doesn't require kisses

      won't even trade in kisses

       not at all

        that's how this story goes

The List

Dear Just a Friend,
    I have a checklist
          Two pages longs
               Full of qualifications and qualities
                    That I've made a requirement
My list has just kept
     Getting longer and longer
          With each person who hasn't been
               What you already are
                    Too specific, too demanding
My list has only kept
     Me from second dates
          From dreaming of Hap'ly
               From saying yes
                    From entertaining maybes
I have been told
     To trash the list
          To reshape my expectation
               To lower my standards
                    Or to accept just being          alone
Without trying, you
     Keep checking off my boxes.
          Frightened I've started
               Looking for flaws
                    Searching for gaps 
I tried to cross you off
     Scratch out the possibility
          Erase the maybe
               But my list wouldn't let me
                    Mark out your name
                 
                 
                 

Free Time

Free Time

This is the worst possible thing
A cancellation
Two hours free
Nowhere to be
Nothing to do
Can't go home
Nothing left 
But to sit in a parking lot
And dream of you
Already re-read our texts
And all the texts
To my girlfriends 
Bragging 'bout you
Already re-read your
Facebook feed
Re-read our emails
Sent you three texts
And dreamt of tomorrow
Nothing left to do
'Cept write about you

Undone

Undone

There are things I'm not allowed to say

Things that must be left unspoken

Want you, need you, love you, please, now

So many things I can't say

There are things I'm not allowed to do

Things that must be left undone

Rush you, pressure you, press you, kiss you

So many things I can't do

There are things I'm not allowed to dream

Things that must be left un-thought

Forever, hap'ly ever after

So many thoughts I can't stop

There are so many things I shouldn't write

Things that should be left unwritten

Poetry, words, metaphors, hope

Spilling out of my pen

Though I know they shouldn't

You've got me undone