Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I'm not leaving now,
So don't cry, Dear.
Do not fret,
I am still here.

Our time together,
Even in this weather,
Should be cherished,
Should be treasured.

If I leave, I'm stubborn.
If I don't, you're selfish.
I need to start over;
my life is hellish.

I am a blemish
on this planet
of nothing
and everything.

The only thing
that makes me happy,
besides you,
is the rain.

So let the rain pour,
let me smile again.
I leave tomorrow;
We have until then.


Written for my good friend, Jordan.

sounds so simple - be here now
with all the ache and joy

Live for the moment poem. Good and well put.

as john lennon & others have said, Life is what happens while we're busy making other plans.....the element of water, the rain, the tears, seems a natural fit....

An older woman with a headcold stopped
her pastor as he passed her into town—
and she was glad and started to explain
about “That Hobo” she’d just seen asleep
in Main Street Park, beside the fountain bench,
without a tabloid for a blanket since
the press went out of business; she was glad—
alerting God’s authority to sadness
she’d encountered, certain he would wince
and find a fitting shelter for the Mensch.
But he had heard “That Homo” from the deeply
nasal timbre of her headcold’s pain
and left the Sodomite to freeze where down,
not brimstone, but another angel’d dropped.



...as much a call for reformation as...

judih wrote:sounds so simple - be here now
with all the ache and joy

Why can't things just be simple? I live for the moment, in all it's pros and cons.

dadio wrote:Live for the moment poem. Good and well put.

Thank you very much.

joel wrote:An older woman with a headcold stopped
her pastor as he passed her into town—
and she was glad and started to explain
about “That Hobo” she’d just seen asleep
in Main Street Park, beside the fountain bench,
without a tabloid for a blanket since
the press went out of business; she was glad—
alerting God’s authority to sadness
she’d encountered, certain he would wince
and find a fitting shelter for the Mensch.
But he had heard “That Homo” from the deeply
nasal timbre of her headcold’s pain
and left the Sodomite to freeze where down,
not brimstone, but another angel’d dropped.


...as much a call for reformation as...

Misunderstandings can ruin one's entire morning.

If only grief could be so easy
Instead it makes me queasy

To know love is to be lost
Left with only distraught

Whether he is to leave tonight
Or not

I grasp this hair strand rope
Clinging to only hope

That I can discover
This time I will be able to recover