My love is like something read of in books Some “How To” guidance for love-struck wretches It’s all affirmations and leering looks And deeply moving character sketches
Now that we finally have set a date, I can admit some things I’d form’rly hid Like what was really in that wooden crate And why you should’ve stayed whereat I bid.
You see some things are best left to surprise Unprepared was I for their unveiling But now it’s time to open up your eyes To reveal to you my one true failing:
to wit:
I own every book by Orson Scott Card And to me he trumps the immortal bard.
posted
I wrote this for a poetry class in the summer of 1999. I didn’t know I’d written it for Bob until last month when he told me that he thinks homemade hummus is “a turn on.” So tonight I dug through file drawers and found the portfolio from the class and this poem:
I'm Pounding Beans Into Paste Becasue I Love You
I know you've had an awful time today I wanted to do something nice for you, And homemade hummus isn't hard to make Except it looks and smells like doggie doo. I swore I'd never, ever cook a legume, Until I fell for you I kept that vow, I hate to think what laughter I'd encounter, If my first Home Ec teacher saw me now.
I think your favorite food is so disgusting, Tasteless and grainy, yet it's mushy too, Except this love that's tugging on my heartstrings, I can't think why I ever married you. I loathe the fact that you have dreadful taste, But since I love you I pound beans to paste.
Her head was aching, fit to beat the band She forgot to warm the water in the font The screaming baby, baptised by her hand Was thinking, "This just isn't what I want! His feet burned in the barren Texas sand As he tried to weed the fiercely dug-in plant. By shrubbery he had become unmanned And cried as if he were a cold infant. Her arms were white, his face was very tanned Her vegetation green while his was scant. These latitudes they lived in were not planned They longed for wedding vows she would incant. For April, coming faster, they would scream When both their worlds would melt into one dream.
[ November 13, 2004, 09:44 AM: Message edited by: Elizabeth ]
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posted
Bob pointed out that he has now written six love poems for me since we started dating, and the only one I’ve written for him I wrote before I’d ever met him. So:
For Bob
I didn’t know I’d been dreaming of you Oh wait a minute – I hadn’t. I didn’t know I was waiting for you Oh wait a minute – I wasn’t. I should have been, but who could have guessed that someone so perfect existed? Until that night when we both confessed and the truth was no longer resisted. I love you, I love you, and I’m longing for you I’ll go nuts in a week more without you You swept in, and we laughed, and you’ve stolen my heart And if you don’t move to Iowa in the next seven days I swear I’m going to fly down next Sunday and drag you here myself.
posted
D is for destiny that's how it all starts with good taste in books and similar mind A is for arrow that pierces their hearts (the cursor I mean not the pointy-end kind). N is for nutcase, cause puns make us so: you think that it's odd, a match most erroneous yet A is for art, eye-lens Picasso; madess and brilliance arrive silmultaneous. B is for bills for the phone calls that try, to cross many miles, for voices feel dearer O is for overjoyed, the marriage is nigh, a party for all, I wish I was nearer. B is for both, together as one, for ever and ever, a love not outdone.
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You know, I don’t think when Bob invited you all to post your own poems that he meant they had to all be about us.
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posted
Bob and Dana, Sorry, but it was too easy to write a sonnet about you. I just got this image of the two of you, one in Iowa, one in Texas, just waiting and daydreaming until your big day. And I thought of how sad Bob was when he got a divorce, compared to how happy is now. But the thing that made it all so beautiful was thinking of the line: "I'm pounding beans into paste because I love you." Now that is a couple destined to be together, because it sounded SO Bob, yet so dkw, but certainly like no one else.
I just want to make it clear that my image of the two of you was undefined. I had to add in cold baptisms and crying yard workers to make it rhyme. ha ha.