Part 1: Love is like...

Love is like spaghetti.

You twirl it around your fork

Like a ballerina solo,
And when you lift it from your plate,
Red spots appear on your white polo.

Spaghetti is so disgustingly messy.
In one hand a fork, another a spoon,
Looking 'cross the table at your lover,
A slurping, sucking, idiotic baboon.

Spaghetti is the worst of all
It's frustrating like emotions.
Slipping and sliding and never cooperating
Causing all sorts of commotions.

But when you manage to cram a bite

Into your gaping gob

It's always so rich and soothing

And worth looking like a slob.

It's like conjouring old memories

When you need a quick fix

And people will always go back to it

No matter what's in the mix.

Love is so much like spaghetti

It frustrates you til you turn blue

But once you get to savour it

It'll always be there for you.

She left the door to her heart open

She left the door to her heart open,
welcoming visitors and guests to stay,
but an angry southern wind rushed in
dashing 'round the house
knocking over stacks of feelings
and buckets of tears.

She cowered in the corner
Waiting for the wind to finish rustling through her thoughts,
Flipping over wishes
Smashing dreams
Revealing an ugly, brutal
truth.

Just as the wind came in
away it blows,
leaving a massive, interwoven mess.
She peeped around the corner
checking for any slight rustle
from a friendly creature.

One candle stayed alight,
hoping to catch her wavering, watering gaze,
and guide her back to a small window
into the deepest part of herself,
where, stowed willy nilly,
small reminders of herself lay
shining and golden.

GREAT Expectations

"Sweep my off my feet!" says she,

"I dream of racing moonbeams,
of sailing along a silent sea,
of drinking from coconuts b'neath a palm tree;
with you, and only you,
holding my hand,
stroking my hair,
taking in the tropical air.

"I see us running
laughing,
playing,
making sweeter love than birds and bees;
I see us getting lost in cobbled streets
of our love in Paris.

"Why do you not reach beyond the stars,
Past the present to never ending bliss?
Why can't you care for me
more than a dove cares for its mate?
Why aren't you more passionate
than a wolf as he romances the moon?
O, why don't you love me
like Romeo loved Juliet?"

"I'm sorry, " says he,
his eyes sparkling in emerald green
"But I think your patriarchal notions of what should be
are ridiculously obscene."

Cliche down?

They always tell you to live life to the fullest

Like there's no tomorrow

Because you only live once

And you're young, and meant to make mistakes.

They say that you should take chances

That you should spread your wings and fly

That you should reach for the stars

Because life is fleeting and precious and you don't want to regret anything.

Maybe they're right

Maybe we take for granted our time here

Maybe we are too self-conscious, too thrifty, too blind

To the amazing world in front of us.

But maybe I like to fret over the small things sometimes.

Maybe I worry and scrimp and save and keep caution close

Because my life and the people in it matter

Maybe I play by my own rules.

I say it's okay to get tied up in knots

If you know how to loosen them now and again.

I say I will care for you and respect you and be honest and maybe even love you

Because you matter more to me than they do.

Thanks.

Chocolate Gold coins

Richness is

A handful of chocolate gold coins

Shared between two best friends 

Sitting on the floor 

Swapping stories of their secret crushes.

A whirlwind of ideas

Swirling, spinning, dancing

To the well tuned orchestra

That is your mind.

A love shared

In secret doorways or the plazas of Spain

Where sparks fly from eye to eye

Igniting the air with raw passion.

A firm hug

That aims, not to rid you of sorrow

But at least soak up your tears

Until you've no more.

A chocolate gold coin split in two

Because someone dropped their last on the floor

And you would rather share what you have

Than lose a precious future.

Shallows

Early in the afternoon,
When the tide glides out and the breeze is light,
A snail and a hermit crab linger
In a small pool amongst the baby sea grass.

Today they are knocking shell upon shell,
A battle to see whose will shatter first;
The victor looking on
As the homeless one is fried by the sun.

Slow and steady the tiny
Click-clack of shell on shell
Is deafening in the shallow pool,
But lost in the noise beyond.

The snail stubbornly stands firm
Waiting for blow upon blow
Until it gathers it strength and
Slams the thin-legged crab.

Though it may topple under the weight of its shell,
The hermit crab has but one speed,
And would rather ruin its home
Than concede to the likes of a snail.

On and on the battle rages,
Even as thin cracks appear in both shells;
They crash and clash, gnashing and thrashing
When, at last, they are left bare.

Tiny pieces of shell are accepted by the sea
As the tide rushes into the rocks.
The snail and the hermit crab trudge off, homeless;
Though their hearts are one.

Baby Steps

Tiptoeing down the endless boardwalk
being careful not to trod on open spaces
is exhausting work.

The dirt road may be dusty and gritty
But there is a freedom
in being able to jump and run without fearing cracks in the road.

There is beauty in having both.
One foot on the boardwalk, one on the road
Seeing the path, but not knowing the end.

Perhaps it is a dance, a balance of both
And those who chose one or the other are fortunate
To be so sure in the needs of their feet.