A Matter Of Opinion

Some folks might say you’re “picky.” Well, it’s one such word they’d use …

and that depends entirely on who’s expressing views.

“Persnickety,” “particular,” “fastidious,” or such,

can all be used to say that, well, perhaps you care too much.

And though I see how “anal” might describe your special zeal,

this girl prefers “meticulous,” which lends a different feel.

Dear, I need words with loving connotations to give praise.

Assiduous intentness manifests in sexy ways,

and there’s no doubt about it. You get everything just right.

You’ve got the perfect technique down; you demonstrate each night.

So I don’t mind you taking time and wanting things just so,

(yes, even when it’s good enough, and I wish we could go).

I know that when it’s my turn, you will take your time the same,

and that gives rise to ecstasy that makes me call your name.

So, fussy and punctilious are compliments, indeed.

You’re vigilant, self-disciplined, and know just what I need.

You’re ever-s0-0bservant, and your work is so precise.

Bravissimo, sweet man! Your eye for detail’s really nice.

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Growing Old

I want to be with you forever.

I plan to grow old by your side.

 We’ll go on adventures together,

both leaving no option untried.

Someday, we may have matching canes,

or blend all our food into soup.

We’ll talk, on the porch, of our pains,

and snog, even though we booth droop.

Then one day, when I need a scooter,

we’ll add on a special sidecar

so I may ride close to my suitor,

not caring if we look bizarre.

I welcome the wrinkles and gray,

wait up for the dentures and flab,

don’t mind if you need a toupée,

or stop for an afternoon nap.

As long as I’m with you, life’s great.

There’s no place that I’d rather be.

You’ll always be my perfect date,

at twenty-six or ninety-three.

I Heart My Geek

Thanks for being just the geek I need to save the day,

whether it’s a question of my keyboard or display,

or another program that won’t load or open files.

You will come and fix it while you flash your dazzling smiles.

It might be an installation, or a network thing,

or turn into an upgrade, like the crash last month would bring.

Thanks to you, my hard drive dying wasn’t all that bad,

crushing its effectiveness at making this girl sad.

Right away you had me up and going in a pinch

using a small doo-dad that was no more than an inch.

Running Linux from a thumb drive kept me going strong,

helping me participate in NaNo all month long.

When I got my ’puter back, she’s better than before,

lots of room to grow, with most of what I lost restored.

Having tech support on site all hours is such a plus.

You come, investigate, and fix, but never make a fuss.

I’m so glad a super-nerd comes home to me each night,

seeing to my heart and any tech-related plight.

Here’s to you, my one and only favoritest of nerds!

I aim to pay you back, immortalizing you with words.

That Thing You Do

You’ve learned to do some brilliant things for me.

You try whatever goofy stuff I like …

evincing you’re my loyal devotee

by spending time on what it is I hype.

The fact that you’re resolved to pet my hair

stands out among them all, for it’s the best.

It causes me to go limp in midair,

to flop, immobilized, down on your chest.

I’ll stay there for as long as you’ll allow,

and bask in every stroke that you impart,

your fingers brushing gently on my brow;

the chills send warmth that travels to my heart.

You make a point to fit it in your day,

a kindness my love hopes it doth repay.

Home

While you were gone, I tried filling my time;

I wrote out the ways that I missed you (in rhyme).

I sought out my friends for some coffee and talk.

I even tried taking a cat for a walk.

And, feeling our house was the best place to be,

to stay when you’re ever so far ’way from me,

I rushed on back to this place we have made,

and did feel relief by your likeness conveyed.

Now that you’re here, though, the difference is stark,

so much so that I feel the need to remark:

I was still homesick, although I was home,

as much as if I had continued to roam.

It’s just a house, even with all your things.

The feel of a home is what your presence brings.

The Long and Winding Road

This is the longest drive I’ve had to make in quite a while.

Can’t wait till you arrive with your endearing, goofy smile!

It’s forty minutes to the airport gate and your embrace,

my eyes anticipating the “I’m home!” look on your face.

The long and winding road I take to get from here to there

feels longer every second, I’m most painfully aware.

’T’will, too, be hard to last the journey back here to our house,

for it has been too long since I have held you, darling spouse.

So, I will want to stop off at a hotel right away,

and consummate our love again ASAP, without delay.

Once we are home, two cats compete, and cry to feel your touch,

when mostly though, they slept, and didn’t ask where you were much.

Both of them plus me makes three; of arms, you’ve only two.

So pet me till I’m satisfied. Pet them when I am through …

for I, unlike our kitties, felt a genuine heartache.

I missed you every moment, while asleep, and while awake.

I dreamed of lying with you in our bedroom, in your nook,

of how you stroke my hair through several chapters of your book,

of knowing you are “home,” although you leave to go to work.

Just having you in town prevents the urge to go berserk.

When you are home, our life resumes the way it’s supposed to be,

with you beneath our roof, imparting cherished love to me.

Let’s skip the long and winding road and stop off for a spell,

extinguishing the fire that your sole touch was meant to quell.

Missing You

 

I tried the best distraction I could, visiting with friends …

to give myself some company until your journey ends.

I needed something marvelous to entertain my brain,

to keep my heart from bursting as I slowly go insane.

Although those friends are tried and true, I missed you just as much.

We talked of gods and man, the state of life, the world, and such.

No matter what the subject, though, my thoughts would turn to you,

no substitute available to last the two weeks through.

I sit and count the moments till you’re in my arms again,

here, soaking up the atmosphere we’ve conjured in our den.

I learned that while you’re gone, our home is where I want to be,

within the walls that witness all our witty repartee.

Your smell is in a bottle; I can douse myself each day,

and walk around imagining you offered me a spray.

The book you last were reading’s on the nightstand by our bed.

I use the same shampoo you use to groom your golden head.

And though a saucer’s never ’neath my cup of morning joe,

I think it’s cute you use one, so I do, too, when you go.

I have our family albums, and our portraits on the wall.

I wait with bated breath until the next time that you call.

I clear my afternoon to Skype and hear about your trip,

and know that when you say “a crisp,” you really mean a chip.

I long for it to be the time to go get in the car,

to fetch you from the airport once you’ve landed from afar,

to bring you home and lock the door and throw away the key,

and keep you right where you belong, alongside l’il ol’ me.

A Happy Ending

We women so love to wed our man’s potential,

the power of “could” the most sought-out credential.

The person affianced, in large, inferential,

my choice, at the time, had not seemed providential.

All marriage, by nature, is experimental;

who’s there at the altar is merely tangential.

By now we’ve advanced through a time frame essential

to label your love flow my way nigh torrential,

your treatment of my beating heart deferential,

your goals, which change with mine, our shared differential,

your husbandly ways of the flesh quintessential,

the thirst for life shown in your works influential …

my love for you still leaps in bounds exponential.

D-Day

Hollow words float to the sky in retreat,

tails out of reach so I can’t grab a hold.

Actions are heavy and strong like concrete,

their presence a value far greater than gold.

You say you’re willing, as though that’s enough,

counting on me to not force you to prove.

D-Day is here, sir. I’m calling your bluff.

Man up and show me, or pack up and move.

Rush

The empty corridor awaits the rush,

still basking in its momentary peace,

serene, immersed in solitary hush,

that pregnant pause which grew until obese.

The door swings on its loudly creaking hinge,

all silence swallowed shockingly at once,

definitively shattering my binge,

the first to break the solitude in months.

Activity awakens deep inside,

relentlessly withstanding all the noise,

exposing what defiance failed to hide,

illuminating all as love deploys.

My heart is now an open book at last,

relinquishing resistance to the past.

Bury The Hatchet

We never will agree on the events that once took place.

By now, all we can do is start again and work from here.

Let’s both quit acting like we’re in a nuclear weapons race,

each purposely provoking, every action more severe.

There’s not a one of us who hasn’t someone else to blame,

pretending like our own mistakes are pure and innocent,

when really, in the end, our motivations were the same,

for none can claim so righteously he’s only good intent.

Let’s bury deep the hatchet and then move on with our lives.

We’ll share only the joyous and hold back our tongues in rage,

for when we look beyond, we see resilient love survives;

it still remains accessible, and pays the ideal wage.

adrenaline

heart racing

eyes red

throbbing center

throbbing head

toes curling

feet flexed

tension now

tension next

fists forming

blood boils

crippling fight

crippling toils

living raw

love burned

nothing gained

nothing learned

Awakening

I’d like to say there’s anything I’d do,

no length to which I wouldn’t ever go,

no epic tale of woe I’d not go through,

no gesture graced with love that I’d not show.

I’ll rescue you from structures pitched with flames,

I’ll carry you at times when you can’t walk,

defend you when you when your foe unjustly blames,

and listen to you when you need to talk.

But I will not stand idly by and watch,

nor keep inside my words which bear the truth.

You’ve kicked your self-destruction up a notch;

no longer is this folly of your youth.

I’d die for you … that’s all I have to give.

But one thing I can’t do for you is live.

Acid Rain

The tension flows freely and fills up the room,

condensing like dark clouds that bully the sky,

with clustering pustules that fester and bloom …

those unanswered questions about how and why.

Expanding balloons grow enormous and pop,

broadcasting a mist over all in their wake,

refusing to wilt, as their poison, they drop,

corroding facades, and exposing the fake.

Acidic remarks lash harsh stripes on the wall …

transmogrify love into caustic defeat.

They crush good intentions to dust where they fall,

ensuring destruction is swift and complete.

Stripes become solids, their coverage increasing.

Resentments pile high, exponential in growth.

Permanent statements– they live without ceasing–

obliterate all that was precious to both.

Freeze Frame

I’ve never seen you look so sexy as you do right now,

your sweet blond locks combed back with not one hair that’s out of place,

the signs of effort showing in the lines that grace your brow,

the sideways glance that’s hinting at the smile upon your face.

The muscles in your arms are taut, and ripple as you flex,

as they would do if anyone would use them as you are.

The light from o’er your head has caught your eyes’ soft hazel flecks,

illuminating, on your cheek, your fifth grade gym class scar.

If I could freeze this moment, I’d relive it everyday.

I’d take it out and cheer myself if I am feeling blue.

Of all the special characters that you, at times, portray,

the one that washes dishes makes me want to say, ‘I do.’

All Those Things We Never Said

Let’s say all those things we never said.

Let’s sit down and talk until we’re done.

Let’s rewrite our history instead.

Let’s pretend our lives have just begun.

All those things we never said are here,

all those things we owe the other’s heart.

All those things we held back are so clear.

All those things demand that we re-start.

Let’s carve out new paths that intersect.

Let’s embark on journeys as a pair.

Let’s embrace those feelings we neglect.

Let’s no longer hide the love we share.

When We Kiss

I so love the way you still look at me when we two kiss,

’cause each time we do, there’s a wonder alive in your eyes,

as though no lips brushing on yours ever felt quite like this,

as though I intoxicate, giving you fabulous highs.

I think of a child with his presents when Christmas time comes,

your face lit, so grateful to find, such a treasure, you own.

The whole cake is not what you run for; you relish the crumbs,

like tasting my kiss is the greatest one pleasure you’ve known.

It makes me so tickled to know my lips bring you such joy,

that they are the cause of the grin you display on your face,

which shines through your manliness, showing your sweet little boy

who’s spent all his life searching for my warm kiss and embrace.

Splat

goats-173940_640

*picture courtesy of PeterDargatz on pixabay.com

I’ve never observed you before with that look in your eyes,

your hair at attention, the veins bulging thick on your neck.

It took me a minute to comprehend, for me to realize

that you threw the punch that had put him face-down on the deck!

I promise you we were just talking; it’s not how it looked.

But still, it’s a compliment, you so protective and stressed.

I know that if he’d laid a finger, his goose would be cooked.

You sure made your point. He’s aware it’s for you that I’m dressed.

I’ve never before had a man start a fight for my hand,

and now that one has, there’s no need to repeat all this fuss.

You let me know that when it counts, my man will take a stand

and fight to ensure we two live our lives out as an “us.”

Pretzels

Pretzels

Image

What I Love About You

blue-166916_640*

   There are so many things I love about you, my sweet dear.

After much deliberation, my results are here.

I love that you delight in learning new things everyday.

You actively seek knowledge, and to you, it counts as play.

I love that you don’t ever mind admitting you don’ t know.

Through your quest to find the answer, I can see you grow.

You teach yourself such complicated things just from a book,

the kind, that for the author, a live teacher’s what it took.

When you make your mind up and decide to learn a skill,

you display such monumental focus and strong will.

When you learn to hone a craft, you’re always so damned brave.

Every bruise and scrape you get is dismissed with a wave.

I can’t count how many times I’ve seen you take a fall.

You get right back up and then again, you do it all.

I love the way you quickly fell in love with having cats.

I love the way you think I’m extra cute when I wear hats.

I love the way you give the things I love an honest chance.

I love that when we’re cooking we break into song and dance.

I love the way you know when you should scowl and say, “That bitch!”

I love the way you scratch my back when I can’t reach an itch.

Living with you means I always have great tech support.

I love the way that you don’t care at all ’bout watching sports.

I love the way you pet my hair each time we watch TV.

I love the way your very favorite hobby’s always me.

I love you never caring there’re no Anglos ’round for blocks.

I even love the way you wear your flip-flops with your socks.

I love all your encouragement to make me sit and write,

and that you love my cooking, and you tell me every night.

I love the way you pump my gas, no matter rain or shine.

I love the way you knew that I’d be yours and you’d be mine.

I love the way you love the chance to try a different food.

I love how you still treat me like when I was first pursued.

I love that you’ll come home tonight and take me in your arms,

exposing me in full to your sweet scent and manly charms.

I love that you’ll get up again as dawn announces day,

and work such long hours to provide and bring home hard-earned pay.

All the things I love about you, I could never write,

no matter if I never stopped and worked all day and night…

’cause there’s just no end to all the things I love ’bout you.

Through my words and poetry, I’ll see what I can do.

*photo courtesy of PDPics on pixabay.com

 

Enough

I’ve often seen a raindrop weave its way down window glass,

building speed and growing fast in size,

picking up the others as it wends its weary way,

down to earth it falls from darkened skies.

I’ve often seen a rainbow bring the promise of the sun,

its energy so vibrant and alive…

showing light waves’ majesty in all their glory, true,

witnessing how nature’s colors thrive.

I’ve often seen the sunrise usher in a brand new day,

spreading warmth across my face and land,

getting the world moving as they take on what may come,

both things they do and do not understand…

If I live I know I’ll see these more times than a few.

I know I can always ask for more,

see another rainbow after counting raindrops fall,

and feel the sunrise heat my very core.

I’ve never seen you sleeping after giving you delight.

I haven’t held you, kissed away your tears,

I haven’t had the nerve to tell you what I really want:

to be yours as we wile away the years.

If I could do these things, I’d give back all my raindrops now.

I’d throw away my rainbow for your love.

I’d banish my warm sunrise, and I’d get my heat from you.

Your love for me would surely be enough.

Up The Drive

When up the drive my lover’s car does pull,

emerging from his door I see him stand.

The limits of my heart are far past full.

His lunch box and his coat are in his hand.

I run so I can meet him at the door.

I’m always eager for his loving kiss.

He’s everything I want in life and more.

Now in our house, his love I no more miss.

He works all day to give me what he can.

I’m here for him to make his evening right.

I’m ever grateful this is my sweet man.

I’ll sleep embraced by him throughout the night.

And every time his car comes up the drive,

it keeps the love inside my heart alive.

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