geeksusie

Hey all,
Things are slowly getting better here. I think we are very near a settlement with my insurance company. I am hoping to get the full amount of the loss. The weather has been totally awesome around here for the past week too. So I am in a much brighter mood. I just can't wait until things get back to normal and I am out on my own again with Kelli.
This is the start of my favorite part of the year. I have always loved Fall. When it starts getting chilly at night and the leaves change. Going to all of the farm fairs, spending time in old New England towns. It has always seemed so romantic to me. We are planning on spending Columbus Day weekend in York, Maine this year. Right by the Nubble Lighthouse. I love it so much! I can't wait.
Tomorrow is my dad's birthday, so I will be hanging out with him all day. I know he will never read this, but Happy Birthday Pops! lol
Well, since I am much more cheerful lately I will not be venting today. I hate being pissed at the world, but somedays I just get so frustrated with it. Since I am not writing much here today I will treat you to two of my more verbose poems. I hope you enjoy.

The Dance

The dance of eyes,
much like the business of reading smiles
in a room full of first encounters, is no sure gamble.
Friendliness and flirtation appear interchangeable
so often they should be advertised as well as our names
and placed on two sides of a quarter.
The odds no better than any other question staked on faith,
my nerves no less rattled waiting for an unbiased answer.
Heads, I ask her out and tails I save face.

Our eyes meet for more than a second
and it's all I can think about for a week.
I think you are beautiful, but cannot speak.
I'm pretty sure some casual banter would help as practice or perquisite
if only I could both walk and move my lips.
If only you weren't so busy and tall and built up like celebrity in my head.
If only I weren't stunted by an inferiority complex and underweight,
I could enact one of various smooth operations I've imagined like a perfect date.

Your eyes catch mine and time appears to slow or pause
for some interpretation that never shows.
Are you thinking what I'm thinking? Is it possible after so long?
I haven't been right more than once in the last ten years,
why would you be any different than the last Kate, Sam or Deanna?
Maybe you're only meant for mind play
since I have exhausted the rest of my fantasies like a good song.
You could be what I deserve and I could be what you need,
but my percentage of error is higher than the possibility of either.

If only you weren't looking back from time to time,
I could have been tired of this by now,
moved on to another subject like an attention deficit.
But your eyes are there, surprised as mine,
unexpected and almost squinting as if trying to solve or figure out.
I think you're intrigued by the way our eyes meet like a riddle,
but unable to investigate further because it's not the right time or place.
I'm scared that you suspect I'm weird or socially inept
because I am, a little.
But also because I've been so misunderstood
and it is so rare to find someone on the same wavelength.

When love at first sight is such a stretch,
I reach for the existence of an unspoken recognition.
There has to be a way to explain the way eyes become so fixed
to a stranger like well known features mistaken from a distance.
I first saw you at a grocery store
I remember most of what you were wearing, your hair and smile
but what grabbed me and wouldn't let my line of vision waver,
were your eyes, blue but maybe green, in any case exceptionally kind and un-shy.
I don't know why I stared, why I still repeatedly glance
like you are something I already know
but cannot begin to answer.

There are people I see every day
that I don't feel the need to analyze.
Strangers with pretty eyes and gorgeous faces to match
that I do not engage or spend all hours trying to understand or see again.
Why are you so different, why are you so difficult to forget?
I want to know but cannot ask.
Instead I'm making mixed CD's meant to prolong a feeling
that most likely is not reciprocated
and replaying seconds of menial interactions
like a high school touchdown on tape.

I guess it's the chance that's so intoxicating,
the possibilities confusing minuscule with monstrous
like flirtatious and friendly.
My heart is a dry vessel and so easily excited,
I really wish your eyes were not so inviting.
So blue and sometimes so green, always exceptionally kind and often un-shy,
if only I were not so afraid of being wrong,
I would ask why.

greeting the morning

the little frog sits on the round flat lily leaf, gently undulating
watching the water rings expand and pan out .....
sunrise glistens 'tween the hills, and suffuses the rising mist
the intermittent song of the small bird sings out
water laps the lake surface ever so gently
the peace of the waking morning introducing the day
while the little frog sits gloating in the sun
mesmerized with warmth
the light twinkles across the gently flowing water
there is an increasing invitation to join in this day
but, in beginning in stripping yourself of doing, and
in the rotund laughing Buddha's style just 'be'
with stillness, sit in the moment
and let the day take shape around you
let the birth of the day caress your senses
like the frog, let the sun honor your body
let the warmth spread throughout your being, until it permeates your mind
feel your soul breathe in this energy of peace
let the content and peaceful smile crease your relaxed face
watch the shadows slowly move across the land
and the waft of the breeze entice the leaves
feel your expansion, as you experience holding each outer form and happening as part of yourself,
knowing too, each form holds you within itself
the macrocosm and the microcosm
and then that little frog opens his eyes and sees you, and
in that moment, his world has changed
and the day moves forward
but, the morning's blessing never forgotten.