My soul cries out
Wherever thou may be
Kiss my heart
That I may feel thy love
Father divine
I fall at thy feet
An empty vessel –
Use me
For thy will
Tag poetry
A Gentleman
I climbed onto the bus, hoping to score at least one seat for myself, because I was alone and only need one. But all the seats were going fast, filling up in front of me, and they were all men for some strange reason. And all the men took a seat, and I arrived at the back after the very last seat was taken. So I placed my bag on the floor in front of me, and prepared myself to stand. A long journey home. And then kindly, a man stood up and offered me his seat, insisting even after he saw my hesitation. And after hearing how TrumpFace would be groping women because he can, I smiled and said thanks. In a world of equality on one hand and objectification on the other, it is still old-fashioned lovely to be offered a seat by a random gentleman on a bus.
Spider and the Fly
The word flattery reminds me of this fable by Mary Howitt 1829. Truth then, and it’s happened to me before. Typical predator / prey, all the fun is in the chase. And the capture and discard.
“Will you walk into my parlour?” said the Spider to the Fly,
‘Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,
And I’ve a many curious things to show when you are there.”
“Oh no, no,” said the little Fly, “to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair
-can ne’er come down again.”
“I’m sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;
Will you rest upon my little bed?” said the Spider to the Fly.
“There are pretty curtains drawn around; the sheets are fine and thin,
And if you like to rest awhile, I’ll snugly tuck you in!”
“Oh no, no,” said the little Fly, “for I’ve often heard it said,
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!”
Said the cunning Spider to the Fly, “Dear friend what can I do,
To prove the warm affection I ‘ve always felt for you?
I have within my pantry, good store of all that’s nice;
I’m sure you’re very welcome — will you please to take a slice?”
“Oh no, no,” said the little Fly, “kind Sir, that cannot be,
I’ve heard what’s in your pantry, and I do not wish to see!”
“Sweet creature!” said the Spider, “you’re witty and you’re wise,
How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!
I’ve a little looking-glass upon my parlour shelf,
If you’ll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself.”
“I thank you, gentle sir,” she said, “for what you ‘re pleased to say,
And bidding you good morning now, I’ll call another day.”
The Spider turned him round about, and went into his den,
For well he knew the silly Fly would soon come back again:
So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner sly,
And set his table ready, to dine upon the Fly.
Then he came out to his door again, and merrily did sing,
“Come hither, hither, pretty Fly, with the pearl and silver wing;
Your robes are green and purple — there’s a crest upon your head;
Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead!”
Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little Fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue —
Thinking only of her crested head — poor foolish thing!
At last,
Up jumped the cunning Spider, and fiercely held her fast.
He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,
Within his little parlour — but she ne’er came out again!
And now dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne’er give heed:
Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly.”
Flattery

Flattery
Sweeps me off my feet
Spins me around
And makes my heart beat
Flattery
So false and yet so sweet
Smiles at me before
Scorching me in its fire’s heat
I don’t care anymore
Like me
Or don’t
Talk to me
Or don’t
Include me
Or don’t
Kiss me
Or don’t
Call me
Or don’t
Love me
Or don’t
I don’t care anymore
Silent Treatment
The silence is deafening
As I extend an unwelcome hand
Side by side we remain together
But distinctly apart
No Dramas
I saw my hero of old yesterday
He asked me
How are you?
I replied
I am good thanks
And smiled
How are you?
Remorse
I didn’t realize
What I had said until it was said
Until I saw the shock in your eyes
The pain in your words
The hurt in your voice
If I could take it back
If I could reverse time
If I could unsay thoughtless words
If I could think before I speak
If I could do all those things
I would do it
Empty Bubbles

Delicate dreams
Fragile and free
Float on air
In their vulnerability
And when all is quiet
I realize
All I’ve ever done
Is blow empty bubbles
To no one there
Naked Soul
Words have power
I see it every day
Building up and
Breaking down
It forces either way
Words have power
This I know
For what is typed
And what is said
Reveals the naked soul

