Missing you …

missing youSomehow I knew that guy I met New Year’s day would inspire poetry. I just didn’t think it would take this long to manifest. But I guess absence makes the heart grow fonder … or is that distressed? I sometimes forget.

At first, I thought it would be his unique artistic photographs that would inspire the words to flow. I kept a few on my hard drive for inspiration. I look at them and feel the words just beyond the veil, like a caterpillar locked insides its chrysalis, not quite ready to be a butterfly.

But then life got in the way of us getting to know each other better and I began to miss the company I hadn’t quite developed. Strange how that works out, eh?

And so, as I took a break from a task this evening that I didn’t want to be doing anyway, the words started to flow … and this is the result. What do you think?

[divider]

You can listen as I read the poem, or read it on your own.
 

 
A video version is posted below.
 
Missing you …
 
Even now you run through my mind
I try to think of something else
But thoughts of you always drift back
Wafting through my memory
Your smile
The cadence of your voice
The smell of your skin
The touch of your kiss
The experience of you and me together
The more than occasional “nasty” thought
 
Yes, thoughts of you run through my mind
Like bubbles floating free of a bubble bath
Like a creek flowing through the woods
Like fingers through my hair
 
Strange how so short a time is needed
For someone to become a piece of you
A piece of your heart
Leaving a cherished mark
Like a locket with a precious loved one’s photo
A lock of a newborn’s hair,
Tucked carefully away in the baby book
A pebble found while walking on the beach with someone special
 
The question is …
Do I let those thoughts flow?
Or do I resist them?
Perhaps I should tell you about them?
Maybe share them with others?
Do I hold onto them like pearls on my great-grandmother’s necklace?
Or let them go like dry sand through my fingers?
 
Yes, even now thoughts of you run through my mind
And I am grateful for the memories
 

Similar Posts

  • Solitaire

    Written July 25, 1987. She sits there eating stick pretzels as if they were cigarettes. She holds them between her pointing and middle finger. She brings them up to her mouth and takes a bite. She rolls the bite teasingly with her tongue as she stares at her imaginary opponent. In her mind she plays…

  • The Death of a Crush

    This poem was written sometime during the 1986-1987 school year. A fleeting glance A longing look quickly hidden no one will ever know no one should ever know Hidden feelings rip and rend in frustration emotional spasms tightly kept veiled Should anyone find out trap door opens in the heart as a futile escape from…

  • The Box

    Written in 1985. I’m in a box. I’ve been here a long time. There’s no way out. All eight corners are the same. All six sides have been scrutinized. I stare in hopes that I might see something new. Maybe there are pores with minute creatures living inside. If I look long enough maybe I…

  • Color Experiments

    On June 6, 1981, my diary entry consisted of nothing but poetry. Here is a series i did about color. Yellow Yellow is bright and cheery It never seems dreary Yellow is the sun Yellow is the morning Yellow wakes me up to a new day And by the way Yellow is adoring Red Red…

  • Release

    This poem, an English class assignment when I was a Junior in High School, was eventually published, at the cost of $35, in the American Poetry Anthology 1986 — my first published poem. It was written in 1983. A tear is a bird set free from its cage of sorrow. The wolf’s lonely cry in…

4 Comments

  1. You know, its interesting that although this poem was inspired by one person, it applies to many. It is in my nature to care about people, even if I’ve known them for a very short time. And so, I’m doomed (or is that blessed?) to miss an extraordinary number of people from my life. Maybe not all at one time or all of the time … but individually, at moments most poignant, like a stitch in one’s side that hurts only when you move just so.

  2. While this poem was initially inspired by one person … I felt impelled to write it because of him … for the sake of art, I’ve taken poetic license and written it about an amalgam of men from my life.

Comments are closed.