Thursday, January 29, 2009

Babies Make Things Shorter

I've been writing more poetry since I got pregnant. I haven't suddenly become more abstract or sentimental, but I do have less time. So . . . novel writing has become short moments while feeding the baby or while he's napping, and brainstorming has turned to verse.

Here are a few that I've been working on recently. There is music that accompanies the lullaby--ask Randy and he'll sing it for you. That being said, I may have to tweak some of the verse to make the music fit. The last selection is something I actually wrote a while ago in a poetry class, but I ran across it the other day and it made me smile. Feel free to add any (constructive) criticism, as I am not part of any writing groups at the moment and could use any feedback available. (That means you, Krystal!)

Bavarian Winter

Looking back now
I see two people standing there
holding hands in the rain.
It's hard to know now
whether we were coming, going
meeting once more to try again
or parting

I only remember a vague uneasiness
a chill in the street lamp, settling over
the pavement and me and you--

But your hands were warm
like the last long evenings of summer
or the times when we laughed
over all the stupid games we played
in the kitchen, over steaming pots
and pasta

I don't remember how or when
things changed
Just the seasons of wind and ice
and too late springs
the long lazy summers apart
but still we waited.

Holding hands on other streets
in other mists
Your hands warming mine
Laughter caught in the damp air
around our faces

Wesley's Song

hands so small
eyes so bright
you hold my heart
as I hold you tight

I would protect you
from every harm
cuddle you close
through every storm

So sleep my love, till
with the dawn above
the sun will shine through
the warmth of my love

Small awkward smiles
rain down on me
The sweetest rewards
are given for free

Darkness will come
but you need not fear
I will be there
to dry every tear

So sleep my love, till
with the dawn above
the sun will shine through
the warmth of my love

My Sexy Little German Man

"Bring a little German home with you,"
He said, with a wry smile
And eyes that laughed at his own jest
The over-used joke between us was not so funny
Anymore, but merely one more way to say
I love you.
I pictured comical hats and lederhosen
On a miniature man
Waiting on some cobblestone boulevard
Hip jutted out, eyes scanning the street
Like some elfin hooker, looking for a date
With me.
When I came home that night, I forgot
To bring the German--
What I brought instead was half-Italian,
One quarter Irish, an eighth French
And all mine.
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