Hi Mom,
Finally found that poem. It was in another blog. Here it is, pretty heavy stuff...
Love you!
---Dave.
==============================
"18plus4"
A beauty deep in her core.
Of energy and spirit so rarely found before.
But the long ago cost of being had forged a shape to her heart.
Her pain and its rage unrelenting, my love she unthinking ripped apart.
She won't fight fair, her rage reddens the air.
It leaves an ever widening chasm as it tears.
Staining slowly crimson red on all our years.
One tiny scratch, and then Another.
Drip. Drip - Strong am I, the anger to withstand.
But the blood falls thick on rich dark soil.
Drip. Drip - Difficult are her demons to disband.
After far too long the earth begins to spoil.
Drip. Drip - More frequent now,
while the tears of my soul keep asking why.
And the strength of my love fades now each day into the sky.
Drip. Drip.
Finally the blood claims its cost.
18 plus 4. A lifetime is lost,
Death by a million tiny scratches.
No longer this cold crimson pain willing to sustain.
I'm taking my dirt now to go find warm, healing rain.
"18plus4"
A beauty deep in her core.
Of energy and spirit so rarely found before.
But the long ago cost of being had forged a shape to her heart.
Her pain and its rage unrelenting, my love she unthinking ripped apart.
She won't fight fair, her rage reddens the air.
It leaves an ever widening chasm as it tears.
Staining slowly crimson red on all our years.
One tiny scratch, and then Another.
Drip. Drip - Strong am I, the anger to withstand.
But the blood falls thick on rich dark soil.
Drip. Drip - Difficult are her demons to disband.
After far too long the earth begins to spoil.
Drip. Drip - More frequent now,
while the tears of my soul keep asking why.
And the strength of my love fades now each day into the sky.
Drip. Drip.
Finally the blood claims its cost.
18 plus 4. A lifetime is lost,
Death by a million tiny scratches.
No longer this cold crimson pain willing to sustain.
I'm taking my dirt now to go find warm, healing rain.
--- Here are a couple more I wrote up during that same amazing year ---
==============================
"Zombie Lovers"
Dead People.
Zombie Lovers.
Emotional Infants.
I loved.
18+4. I counselled and yet still bled.
So OK.
18+4. I learned and knew Enough had been said.
I know I'm not the only one out there.
She is waiting too, somewhere.
I wait.
Oh this is so nice and so unexpected.
But I can see my heart just isn't interested.
I wait.
She is waiting too, somewhere.
Another shows me how to grow,
And yet even I can tell, oh Hell no.
I wait.
She is waiting too, somewhere.
Another and I lose my head,
but she's unclear and full of dread.
And it's 18+4 all over again.
It hurts but I'm grateful for the pain.
And still I return to the wait.
There's another now,
My soul opens and I know it isn't too late.
This time I know what to say,
And so the romance we play.
She smiles. Her smile is so bright.
And as we talk her soul feels so light.
No zombie lover who can't escape the game.
She takes my hand, while I'm thinking the same.
Yes. Finally this is completely sane.
Another shows me how to grow,
And yet even I can tell, oh Hell no.
I wait.
She is waiting too, somewhere.
Another and I lose my head,
but she's unclear and full of dread.
And it's 18+4 all over again.
It hurts but I'm grateful for the pain.
And still I return to the wait.
There's another now,
My soul opens and I know it isn't too late.
This time I know what to say,
And so the romance we play.
She smiles. Her smile is so bright.
And as we talk her soul feels so light.
No zombie lover who can't escape the game.
She takes my hand, while I'm thinking the same.
Yes. Finally this is completely sane.
==============================
"A Glimpse of Something Bright"
Time...
...time
She came into sight, a glimpse of something bright.
A smile in the air. Transfixed, I had to stare.
Casual warmth we spoke, it felt sweet, my soul awoke....time
She came into sight, a glimpse of something bright.
A smile in the air. Transfixed, I had to stare.
Her soul shined, Her shimmer did blind.
Love.
I felt life hum, saying the best is yet to come.
==========================================
"Something Bright"
I say Hi.
You turn smile and say Hey.
You open your mind to me.
I drink it deep.
We catch a glimpse of something bright.
We take a walk.
We eat
We dance
We talk.
You take my hand.
I say I love you.
You turn smile and say Hey.
You open your mind to me.
I drink it deep.
We catch a glimpse of something bright.
We take a walk.
We eat
We dance
We talk.
You take my hand.
I say I love you.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
On Wed, Jul 18, 2012 at 12:15 PM, Dr. Lisa Earle wrote:
Thank you for sharing....these are deep, sensitive, beautiful, sometimes heart breaking words...I think I understand....
Did you write all of them in 2010 or a bit before? ...so much truth in poetry - what a medium to use innermost emotions....
As I told you, I think you have surely a way with words, quite a gift! Use it and count your blessings!
Love you, MOM
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
On Wed, Jul 18, 2012 at 12:38 PM, Dr. Lisa Earle wrote:
...I also wanted to add, I am so grateful that you had your work to sustain you during that rough period...
How about some more poetry about your happy present and future? Or is most poetry written in times of need and hope?
Also, if you could, please send me a link to some of you blogs you might want to share with me! Would love to read it...
Love, MOM
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
On Wed, Jul 18, 2012 at 2:11 PM, Dave R wrote:
That is a good question. I looked back into the blog to find when I posted those writings. They are all dated the same day - August, 2010.
These writings were not each composed at any 1 sitting. They evolved over a few days, weeks, and even months. So the August 2010 date is clearly simply when I posted them to the blog so as to not lose them.
I believe I wrote them originally back in the mid to late 2008 time frame.
You know, a friend of mine once made an interesting statement regarding meaningful writing and poetry.
He was living in NYC at the time (moved from S.FL where we worked together). He was dating my friend Zari Sussman.
Eric Chacon. Really smart and deep thinking kinda guy, I liked him quite a bit.
Well, we were sitting in a coffee shop in the City one evening, just he and I, and chatting about various interesting and deep things, as usual.
He was a techie like me, but has always wanted to be a writer. Now I don't remember his exact words, but the basic gist of it was this: He came to NYC to find heart-wrenching life experiences, in the hopes that he would become a better writer.
Quite a statement.
So I definitely found that being in the middle of pain and anguish was a huge huge huge inspiration to composition.
Happy times not so much. So, other than these few on the opening of my relationship with Pammie, I've not written anything further that's worthwhile.
So I would conclude that yes, poetry is mostly associated with need and hope.
My most entertaining blog is this one:
http://
Others include:
http://daveandpamela.blogspot.
and
http://mommavienna.blogspot.
I think you should have permissions to see all of these. Let me know if you don't.
Love you!
---Dave.
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