Poetry: The Love Lesson of the Lemming

Here is poem # 29 for the poetry pledge drive - a love poem . . . ? It's about the cliche and ubiquity of 'I love you' but also about not letting that keep you from making the leap of faith for as long as it may last.


The picture is of me skydiving about 6 years ago (I'm the one on the bottom). I thought it suited the imagery.



The Love Lesson of the Lemming

It's been said, it's been said, it's been said!
Who hasn't said it? Everyone you have
Ever met? Your mother? The grocer?
The train wreck? Why do we all clamor
To be the next lemmings, all convinced
We can fly?

But I've felt that rush from the free-
Fall; I know how the lemming feels
Before impact, how time stretches,
How falling is flying, how everything is
Fine if you don't think
It will end.

To read other poems or poetry-related posts on this blog, click here.

Poetry: Along the Dotted Line

Here is poem # 27 for the poetry pledge drive. In this time of recession and pinching pennies, I give you a piece inspired by coupons.

Along the Dotted Line

For his birthday, or Valentine's
Day, or just because
He deserves it, make him

A love coupon book.
Nothing expresses undying
Affection like coupons. (Void
Where prohibited.)

Include some free naughty
Rendezvous - at least a few
Pages' worth. (Not redeemable
For cash value.)

And a get-out-of-the
Dog-house-free page
For those days

You may regret
Having made the book
For him. (Limit one
Per customer.)

He'll appreciate the thought
You put into it - nothing
Like something handmade
To show you care. (Cut

Along the dotted line.)
Perhaps he'll even return
The gesture some day.
(At participating locations
only.)

To read other poems or poetry-related posts on this blog, click here.

Poetry: In Sickness

Here we are, day two of this poetry pledge drive, and it's already getting difficult, . . . but I do have another one for you, inspired, oddly enough, by my husband's recent cold and my recent stomach virus. I know, how romantic. But, hey, if Donne can wax poetical (although admittedly in jest) about a flea to justify lustful intentions (see here), I think I can justify finding inspiration for a love poem in stuffed sinuses and queasy bellies.

In Sickness

When you are sick, you insist

Only fatigue, only claim

A few commonly shared things

As your own – A cup, your lips,

A tissue box – as a way to insulate

Yourself, protecting me,

Buffering me.

When I am sick, you fuss

Over me – a pall washed

Away with loving gestures, exaggerated

As for a child, accepted

As if a child soaking in

Your kindness, making me

Better.

To read other poems or poetry-related posts on this blog, click here.