King Midas

I dub thee King Midas
For it all turns to gold
When graced by your touch
What a sight to behold
His presence astounds me
His countenance, grand
Beauty overflows
At every move of his hand
He is not boastful
Neither flaunty nor proud
Yet in modest perfection
He can silence a crowd
He pours forth his talent
Oh so lavishly
And I become precious
When he touches me
Each pluck is a symphony
Every brushstroke, masterpiece
And each scratch of his pen
Brings us both to our knees
No uncertainty surrounds him
Every action, tried and true
And he calls me Queen Midas
Because, he is gold too
My King, yes my Midas
You turn me to gold
When graced by your touch
I'm your sight to behold

Explanation: Round Two

Up and down, back and forth
That's how I must seem
Why does it look like I say
Things I don't mean?

That's not what I wanted
I want to be real
I want to express
What I really feel

I'm not perfect
Though I try to be
I try to hide flaws
Where no one can see

When people get closer
I push them away
I tell them to go
When I want them to stay

And that's what I did
But I still want you near
This must sound like an excuse
You may not want to hear

But bear with me
I've been through a lot
I'm a work in progress
And its harder than I thought

And it scares me
That I want to let you in
If you give me a chance
I won't do it again

We'll start as friends
And then see it through
Clean slate
We'll just call it "round two"

What Is He Thinking? : Part II

So, what is he thinking?
I could just ask
But then I'd have to get over my past
And shelf my mask
Hmmm... what a task..
Alright fine, mask aside

Will you show me yours
If I show you mine?

Which Way To Go...

There's a place I wanna get to, but I don't know the way. It's a wonderful place though, that's what people say. I'm packed and ready to leave here today, and go. So, does anyone know the way to go?

I'm told when you get there, joy fills your soul. The wonder and majesty is such a sight to behold, with gardens and rivers and beauty untold. So, does anyone know which way to go?

What place is this place, what is its name? This place is called love, nowhere's quite the same. It's a place to go back to again and again but first you must find it. So, does anyone know which way to go?

I've been there before but I've been there alone. It's not quite so lovely when there on your own. I wish someone told me then I would've known. Its dark there when its just you, you spin in circles not knowing what to do. You fret and wonder if "love" is really true. Because alone it's not much fun. Then when you hear its name you're tempted to run, run away from the feeling before its begun, again. Again, yes it happens again, the pain because you can't refrain not once you've been there. Yepp, you go back again. So, does anyone know which way to go?

See, I haven't been there in awhile. It's been quite some time since it stole my smile. And hey, I've forgotten the way, but I pray that starting today I can say, Now! Now is my time. I'll find my way without dollar or dime. Trusting God will provide, I'll rely on Him cuz He's on my side, come high or low tide. Someone'll meet me there. God'll send someone who cares. Someone to share my time with.
So, does anyone know which way to go?

What's in a name?

What's in a name? For a rose by any other name would still smell as sweet. At least that's how the saying goes.. and I for one see the truth in it.

Because you, by any other name, would still make me smile, make me shiver, make me sigh.

You'd still make me laugh, make me wonder, make me dream.

You'd still build me up, hold me close, take my breath away.

You'd still stroke my hair, hold my hands, kiss my lips.

You'd still be my friend, my love, my all.

You'd still make me praise God for you, count each day as a blessing, wish each moment would never end.

You'd still stimulate my mind, stimulate my body, stimulate my soul.

You'd still make me want you, make me need you, make me love you.

You'd still seek me, pursue me, find me.

You'd still push me, encourage me, support me.

You'd still love me, cherish me, never let me go... because even nameless you'd still be you!

So I dedicate this to you.. my rose by any other name.

My Girl Jazmine...

I love this girl! Her songs are so real. The emotions are so raw and on the surface.

She does however ask an interesting question. Why do we love, love when love seems to hate us?

I think I have an answer to that question, to some degree. It's in our nature to seek love. Why? Because it's worth it, supposedly.

As skeptical and cynical as we may be on the subject.. innately we believe that it's worth it in the end. So we seek. In our seeking we (usually) get burned more often than not which is discouraging to say the least. But still we seek.

I am not familiar with the merit of seeking love as I am yet to experience the search being worth it, but I am told that it is. If even for a brief moment in time, the knowledge that you are free to love and be loved is worth it, according to my sources.

I've been in love before, but I've been there alone.. but that's a poem for a different date.

What Is He Thinking?

What is he thinking?
What's on his mind?
These questions I've pondered
Quite a few times.

What is he feeling?
Is he happy or sad?
What has he been through?
What experiences has he had?

Where does he come from?
Where will he go?
Then the question hits me
Why do I want to know?

I never wondered before
Why now of all times?
Why is he suddenly
Present in my mind?

Why do I ponder
On what lies within?
Why do things constantly
Remind me of him?

Why is it so easy to
Look in his direction?
Why do I suddenly
Look for his attention?

I don't have any answers
At least not today
So why doesn't that bother me?
Why is that OK?

Maybe it's 'cause I'm older
Old enough to realize,
Things happen as they're meant to
I can take my time to answer, "why?"

Help Me

How do you tell your heart not to feel? How do you make it cold? Make it numb? How can you train it not to get attached to someone so wonderful, or rather, someone who it sees as wonderful? How can you make it ignore his concern, his caring, his affection?

How can you get it on the same page as your rational mind? How can you convince it how wrong this is for you? How can you stop it from skipping a beat when he says your name? How can you make it forget how it once longed for him? How can you make it realize how much better off it is now that the attachment has been severed? How can you prevent it from thinking of him again? Remembering how good it felt when he let you in, made you part of his world? When you knew you were thought about, cared about, and possibly longed for? How can you make it forget when you can't forget yourself?!

You remember how your breath caught in your throat when he looked at you. You remember that tingle down your spine when he smiled at you. You remember wondering if it was more than a crush, more than infatuation you felt. Wondering if he felt it too. Looking in his eyes believing he did. Refusing to believe he didn't. Stupid! of course he didn't! He would have told you! He would have shown you! He wouldn't have vanished from your life. He wouldn't have slinked into the shadows! Stupid heart, he never loved you! Love? Are you crazy? Why even say the word?? It sickens me that it'd even be conceptualized. Time to put this foolish thing, this heart, away. It never leads to anything but exhausted misery. It runs headlong into fantasy not fact.. emotion not rationality.. and each time loses a bit of itself... So it's over, I'm done, I'm putting it away...


If I only knew how...

Untitled

"Another child of pen and pad... " - Raxxie

So many things I want to tell you,
But I don’t even have the words
So many chances I’ve had to say them
But still they go unheard

So many hours I’ve contemplated
Whether my silence was a curse
So many times I’ve sat wondering
If I’d only make things worse

So many times I’ve gotten closer
To saying how I feel
So many times you’ve probed me wondering
If it were really real

So many ways to say I love you
But no one way can truly describe
So everyday it kills me slowly
That my love, I’m forced to hide

"...a slave to my pen" - Raxxie

...What if?

What if I told you everything? What if I finally let it out after years of hiding and stepping aside and simply being too dumb to admit it before? What if I told you that it’s grown since then? What if I told you that what’s in my heart has deepened and evolved? What if it’s something so big now that I can’t even define it? Can’t even describe it?

What if I were close to you? What if I looked into your eyes? What if it were as it were but this time around I responded differently? What if I didn’t wimp out? What if I were completely, uninhibitedly honest? What if I bore my soul? What if you found out that I loved you too? What if it were all worth the wait? What if I apologized for not telling you sooner? What if you still loved me?

What if I kissed you? Just out of the blue, what if I did? What if that’s all it took? What if you held me? What if you kissed me back? What if everything changed and all was as it should have been all along? What if all that’s standing between our happily ever after, is one stolen moment alone together?

But, what if I’m too late? What if I missed my chance? What if you’re happy without me? What if you don’t still wonder? What if it’s really over? What if I waited too long to realize it? What if I got my epiphany too late? What if it’s pointless now? *sigh* What if?

In My Mind

R.I.P Dear Love Song

What happened to the love song?
Don't you remember a time when a song made you feel something that surpassed the mere physical aspect of relationships? Songs used to have the power to speak words unspoken. To express desires and emotion that couldn't be expressed any other way. Do you remember where you were when you first heard "Back at One?" I do. It was at a grade seven school dance. It was my first slow dance with a boy. Even though I knew him, and we were friends I was nervous, but I sang along with Brian McKnight. Even now, I can't hear the song without it resonating deeply.. See that? When was the last time a song did that to you?

There were songs that applied to our lives, songs we could relate to. Remember "Have you ever?" I know you do. And don't all of us have someone from our past or present that the song applies to? I know I do.

There were songs that were so saturated with raw emotion that if you found yourself in a similar situation could bring you nearly to tears... after my 1st break-up I couldn't even listen to "Missing You." (112).

The notion of the love song has become nearly extinct since the turn of the century. Booty and sex are all that we hear about. Remember when there was a difference between love and sex? Now a days its as if they've become synonymous. its sad. i miss the love song. the love song helped make me who i am today. the love helped shape me. but it seems now that the love song has died. so this is its eulogy... R.I.P dear love song, you will be missed.

The Pigeon and the Peacock

Once upon a time there was a Woman. She thought well of herself, held herself in high regard and in turn was able to think the same of others. She loved the people in her life deeply, and thought of them fondly. She laughed, cried, fell, and got up as we all do.

One day as she carried on with her life, and when she least expected it she caught the eye of two men. Not one, but two. She of course was flattered.

Man-number-one approached her directly, forcefully, and flirtatiously. He made poetic declarations of emotion, and eloquent descriptions of her beauty. He bought her gifts. He took her places. He was affectionate. He was romantic. He sought to sweep her off her feet. He wanted her all to himself. He made it his mission to be exactly what she wanted. She was bedazzled that such a man had found interest in her.

Man-number-two looked on as Man-number-one did all this and was crestfallen. He had no large sums of money. He had no flowery words. He had no exotic destinations. And though he longed to be romantic with the Woman his ideas of romantic gestures paled in comparison to Man-number-one's. So, he gave what he had. He walked her to class. He called her when she was sick. He worried about her. He prayed about her. He stayed up late nights talking to her about nothing and everything. He dreamed about her. He offered a listening ear. He offered a strong arm. He offered a tender heart. He told her things he told no one, all in an effort to have a connection with this Woman. He became her confidant. He became her friend.

One day, Man-number-two sat alone. He was deeply troubled. The Woman hadn't heard from him in a day or so and became worried. She sought him out.
"What's wrong?" She asked when she found him.
"Why are you here?" He replied. "Why aren't you with 'Him'?"
"I was worried about you."
He looked into her eyes and asked her a question that had troubled him for so long.
"Why do you worry yourself with me when you have Him? He gives you everything your heart could desire."
She was shocked at the question but the shock passed as she looked back at him, realizing the depths that the question had surfaced from. Her face softened and she replied.
"He is romantic, He is generous, He is public with his affections. He knows what to say. He knows what to do. He is what most women dream of." She paused. "Then there's you. You brought me soup because I was sick. You held my hand because I was scared. You dried my tears because I couldn't. You walked with me, because alone, I wouldn't. He sees my tears, You know the reason. He gave from his pocket, You gave from your soul. He used flowery words, You said it all without uttering a single one. He shows me what I want to see, You show me what I need to see. He shows affection, but You show me love. You listen. You understand. In your quietness I see you, not the pomp and circumstance but you. Your motives. Your desires."

He couldn't believe what he heard. He'd impressed her without being "impressive." He'd shown Her his worth without putting on a show. He'd given Her what she needed not to win Her over but because He'd been won over. He was the man she loved not because He gave what he had, but because he gave who He was. He bore His soul and She responded. He gave His love and She accepted. Not because He expected a reward but because He loved her too much to do otherwise. The Pigeon beat the Peacock.

A Marriage

The joining of two souls. Becoming one flesh. These are the things that mark the sacred union of marriage. Only a few years ago when I was younger than I am now, I experienced such a union. This is the story of the courtship and marriage of pen and pad.

Each lived happily long before they met, for each had many uses before their love existed. They carried on blissfully unaware that they were both grossly incomplete. For you see when one is on their own, they are ignorant to their lack of wholeness. Just as one cannot miss a dessert without experiencing its taste, once cannot see their own state of unfinishedness without finding their other half. So, on they went, each on their separate ways. The pen doing the writing and the pad receiving the writing of others. Neither making a significant impact. Menial were their tasks, mediocre the products, until one day a third party entered into the equation. Me. Yes I am the narrator of this tale but also am I a character. Even more, I am the catalyst! For if not for my inspiration and introduction their love would never have been ignited.

On a day like any other I sat before the familiar pen and the familiar pad and on a whim suggested they dance. Neither had previously considered the possibility but since neither had any reason to object, they obliged me. What happened next was nothing short of breathtaking! They danced ballads, and epics. They danced sonnets and haikus. They danced stories both long and short. They danced romance and thriller and drama. And as the power of their dance continued to grow they fell madly in love.

That very night they discovered their desire for one another and neither could contain themselves. They were consumed by the flames of their longing and though shy at first, adoration for one another broke down the barriers of their insecurity. The wedding followed suit and the exchange of vows was more beautiful than I could endure. All present shed tears because they danced their commitment to one another.

They danced words of undying, unyielding, unrelenting love. The type of love that survives the test of time and temptation. The type of love that heals wounded hearts & makes men fly on wings of self-worth. The type of love that cannot be bought or sold, lost or found, only given and shared.

The honeymoon was long and deep, and years of blissful weddedness followed. The story however isn’t over. Oh no. For you see, once honeymoon is ended and time passes, the vows given during the wedding grow hazy and are forgotten. The fresh memories of passionate love fade and are lost as life continues on.

Within time, pen and pad became estranged. They forgot the reason for their love. They forgot the products of their love. The flame was quickly going out. They both returned to the menial tasks of their previous lives. Tasks with no beauty or magic. I didn’t know how to help, nor was I aware that help was needed. You see, inspiration, my lover, had eluded me some time prior. But as inspiration and I longed for that which we’d lost we were reunited, and sought to do the same for our dear friends, pen & pad.

We forced them to join us. The music began to play. They both knew the song, inspiration’s song. They began to remember their first introduction to it and all the beauty which ensued. They gazed longingly at one another and began to dance once more.

This is where the story pauses, not ends, but pauses because their dance is still strengthening. My beloved inspiration has saturated them with his song and they dance on. They dance right this moment to you, their audience. This very story you see is the product of their dance, of their marriage, of their love. The story will continue while we, the components, are present. Inspiration to writer (me), and pen to pad.