Long Helpfully Poems
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I don't know why
But occasionally as I do from time
to time to inspire inspiration
I found myself spending this
evening going over
And reading some of my earlier poems
I wrote back to me
And I am glad I did as it serves as a
poignant reminder of who I am and was
Because personally I find poetry as
my way and making sense of life
And thankfully I have been brutally
and honest enough and wear them like
a sleeve
So they appear as my own individual
form of therapy and cleansing of my
soul and inner most demons
Which thankfully for me is lucky and
I should consider myself truly blessed
Because without the anonymity that
word's and poetry provide to hide behind
I wouldn't be actually able to tell a single
soul if I had to do it in person
So I guess in a way what I am saying
or admitting to is yes
Quite obviously I am a coward
And a consequence sadly there of
is this
Maybe the only other people in this
world apart from me who actually
may know a little about the real me
Are those here kind folk of you on the
soup who have taken your own precious
valuable time
To listen to and read about some of
my innermost feelings and thoughts
Regarding the story of my life thus far
I’m prepping for school
the unglamorous labour
that builds a future
I like to read people's ‘back to college’ lists - where I can sample what students are buying this year. I find these lists on college-ish websites like ‘Her Campus.’ The number one desire this year is for Apple Air Pods (I certainly love MY AirPod 4s).
We read in silence,
both contented this counted
as togetherness
Beside lists there are surveys on trends.
“Good news,” I announced to Peter, who was sitting next to me, “hot, weird guys are in,” I said it with the satisfaction of someone whose personal choice has been validated by GenZ.
“I still don’t want one,” he says blandly.
Looking at a list of 'questions for your boyfriend,' I asked,
“If you had to change one thing about me, what would it be?”
“Well, you could lose the clothes,” he suggested, helpfully.
No one cares
but I like his hairs
not one more than another
but his left ear
is superior to the other
you heard it here
.
.
A song for this:
Young Folks by Peter Bjorn and John
Three days in - three days of school - and it’s like I never left.
In school, you can get oversaturated with screens. I like books.
They have a sense of permanence, they don’t glare back at you,
and I want something physical I can grip, markup and push off
the bed onto the floor when I get over it.
After three days of class, I’m asking (no one in particular), "Are we there yet?"
I can speed-read if I have a pointer - I use cocktail picks (swizzle sticks?) - you know, the little olive skewers you get in a martini? I have a collection from all over the world.
If I go to a bar and they have nice swizzle sticks, I’ll gather a few up. “What are you DOing,” Karen, (Lisa’s mom) asked me as I scarfed up several from patron’s empty glasses at the elegant, Refinery Rooftop bar in Manhattan.
“I have a TON of reading to do,” I explained, helpfully.
“Don’t even ask,” Lisa shrugged, rolling her eyes, when her mom looked confused.
The trick to speed reading is your eyes (and brain) pickup more than you realize and people tend to pronounce things, in their minds, as they read, which REALLY slows you down. So, you swivel the pointer down the page, following the pointer with your eyes, and Walla!
You can’t do THAT with a computer screen. You need a book, and when you have 2 or 3 hundred pages (or more) a night to read, you can’t just hold your breath and refuse - like a seven-year-old - can you? Seriously, I mean, can we? I’m asking - though it’s probably a little late (senior year).
Now, of course, not just any appetizer toothpick or fruit pick will do - the selection process can be rather byzantine. They must be a certain length, about 2 inches longer than my finger, so my hand doesn’t block the text, and square ones are the easiest to grip. Finally, if they have a little arrow-point on the tip? Well, that’s true love.
The problem is, I can get a little intense when reading and they tend to break. When my roommates hear me exclaim, “God DAMN it!” At 2am. They usually know why.
.
.
A song for this:
Easier Said Than Done by Thee Sacred Souls
Color my day magical, paint my day lavender.
Throw in some glitter, some glitz and some fun.
A day with good friends, who laugh at the right times,
Who know when to hug, and know when you need to cry,
Staying silent, standing helpfully, lovingly by.
Color my day joyful, and enthusiastically prancy.
I know my friends are coming, so I am feeling quite dancy.
Color my day exciting, color my day glittery with acrylics and neon.
Paint it in fun, wholesome and spectacularly freeing and fine.
Color my day.
Paint it lavishly with oranges and purples.
Throw in plenty of pink, of the hottest and happiest hue.
Color my day magical.
Color it marvelous.
Color it wonderful.
Here are my friends.
Let’s paint them,
But save some of the color
For me, as I want to be as magical
As possible. Rainbow me up. Be daring and wild.
You cannot hurt me; I am a rainy-day child.
“Have you ever been in love?” He asked.
“Ugh,” I groaned. “I love tech,” I revealed, “oh, and the Internet,” I confessed, “I LOVE the Internet!”
He looked disappointed. “You know what I mean,” he said.
I sighed. It’s hard to escape the long shadows cast by experiences and expectations.
“Love’s inscrutable!” I said, helpfully.
“Maybe I’ve never been in a relationship long enough for it to be love?” I asked the universe.
He tilted his head as if he were calculating something.
“What IS love anyway?” I asked. “Does love have to be an instant transcendence?”
“This isn’t going well”, I thought, his silence stood out like a curse in a cathedral.
“Let’s go to Dairy Queen!” I suggested, because that ALWAYS makes things better.
“I need an ice cream,” I said, as he looked ready to say something but didn't, “cake.” I finished.
I woke up on a tropical island, mesmerized by ocean wonders:
Abounding with marine life, so awesome
Blessed by God, the Supreme Creator
Colossal bodies of water* function verily well
Delighting mankind with their oceanic roles…
Enabling oxygen production with ease
Freely regulating the Earth system
Graciously transferring heat around the world
Helpfully driving climate and weather conditions…
Influential in the global carbon cycle
Joyously supplying aquatic resources
Kindly providing economic and social services
Lovely home to a lot of biodiversity like coral reefs…
Main reservoir of sea nutrients, minerals and salts
Nurturing atmosphere by decreasing green-house effect
Oceans act as transport means by merchants
Purposeful in trade propelling progress and development…
Quieting distress and qualms midst recreation pursuits
Refreshing, reinvigorating and truly relaxing
Simply satiating sailing satisfaction with serenity
Therapeutic indeed while indulged in nature trip, triumphant…
Useful, profitable while employing millions worldwide
Valuable in food production… that’s obvious
Worthy for menu ingredients midst festive dining
X-factor to population that lives on coastlines
Yes with their health benefits for humans
Zest and zeal they contribute to cultural and spiritual significance!
*Genesis 1:2 And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.
September 16, 2023
1st place, "After the party, I woke up on a tropical island" Poetry Writing Contest; Sponsored by Anoucheka Gangabissoon; judged on 7/30/2024
They came in wild, two little boys, excited to be here.
I am the school counselor, many try to get in.
I accept all who ask and try to every time they ask.
One has asked to have lunch with me several days in a row.
I always say okay, and today I said, “bring a friend”.
He has no sense of direction; he got lost trying to find the cafeteria.
I was surprised, but helpfully helped him find his friend.
They came back all bouncy and happy, excited to play with me.
I had to remind the main child to eat; he was enthusiastic!
He said, “we are wild and crazy guys”.
The other child laughed with glee about that.
They are going to be friends when they are twenty-one.
They are building a base.
I asked if this was an army base.
They thought this was hilarious.
A base to sit and watch tv and stuff.
I hated to see them go back to class.
They were having a delightful time.
I had never seen either of them smile this much.
I am grateful today that I always say yes, remembering why.
Sometimes after Lisa and I do our early-morning 4 mile run (we treadmill in the basement fitness center if it’s under 43 degrees), I come back and lie on my bed, for just for a moment. This morning it was just as the sun broke over the horizon and a pink light crawled across my ceiling, highlighting every imperfection, like craters and mountains on some distant, barren planet. My Apple watch went chikle-inkle-lnkle. Ok, Time to start the day.
Later…
Leong got a new ‘Girls Life’ magazine, those always seem packed with the latest scientific info.
“Studies suggest that you and your deepest friends may share the same blood types!” Leong read aloud.
“I’m O-negative,” she announced, “What blood type are you?” She asked me.
“Red,” I revealed (I am, after all, pre-med).
“DElicious reddd,” Lisa updogged in a Bela Lugosi vampire voice.
“Americans are never serious,” Leong whinged, her voice rising and falling on the last syllables.
“That’s what makes us what we are today,” Lisa asserted, “a slowly, steadily, declining superpower.”
“We could join the military after Yale,” I suggested helpfully, “I bet they’d make us officers.”
“Oh sure, I hear the army’s making men out women these days” Lisa agreed.
“Sounds messy,” I said, wincing.”
.
.
Webster: Whinge: “to complain fretfully."
I’m learning a lot, dating Peter. For instance, I have a whole new awareness of how clueless older Americans, like people in their mid-twenties, are about things in the modern world.
I think Peter’s learning things too. Like the other night, I was 30 minutes late because I was gluing little, glittering rhinestones to my eyebrows. Was he mad? Yes, we had a little drama, but that’s just because he hasn’t learned to respect my lifestyle choices.
“Don’t be mawkish Peter,” I softly advised him, while fixing the caller of his shirt, “look, let's just pretend that we squabbled over this, and I won?” I suggested, helpfully. “It’ll save us time and WOW, we’re running late, OK? Seeing some small, lingering irritation, I promised, “We can still makeup later.”
The rhinestones looked spectacular, I got a LOT of compliments and in the end, I think he liked them. You know, sometimes I’ll catch him looking at me, like the moon or something, like I’m out of reach.
Guys are so.. (Searching for a word).
.
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mawkish = exaggeratedly or childishly over-emotional.