Womb. A poem.

I sit and watch
(I watch and stand)
Here in my
Womb (away from womb)

Where I am safe
(And sound)
Away from the anxiety
Of a thousand eyes (empty)

Black dog (by my side)
Guards me (warily)
'You won't get away'
He growls (with a smile)

My bed (wood and cotton, both lounge and bunk, sit and sleep, sleep and sit)
My weights (heavy metal bars and plates, engaging muscle, stamina and pain)
Guitars (mahogany, maple, rosewood, steel, tremolo and vibrato, liquid notes)
My books (precious sanity, shelves of glorious imagination untamed, unleashed)
Bible (faith, hope, love, commitment, wonder, toil, sanctification)
Laptop (lifeblood, link to the world wide network of lost, hungry, lonely souls,
fed on a steady voltage diet of creation, allusion, and self deprecation)

Here I sleep soundly
(Yet fitfully)
Waking up far too early
(And yet far too late)

Writing
And building dreams
(Within dreams)
Of immaterial reality

Here I live and breathe
(Dying inside)
Here in my
Womb (away from womb)

 

Another poem. So much for me saying I don't write poetry. It's almost all I've done this week. I think I've got a bit of a knack for it.

 

Like poetry? I'm starting to more and more. Here's a link to some more samples of mine – https://stevestillstanding.com/category/poetry/.

Online Dating Fail – Strike 3!

(I walk in the door, despondent after my latest online date.

“So, what was she like?” says Beta Max, reclining on the lounge with Xbox controller in one hand and beer can in the other.

“She looked like my ex-wife,” I say. “And was just as opinionated.”

He purses his lips. “Ooh, not good.”

“No. I’m a bit over it, actually.” I plonk on the lounge next to him, watch Beta Max despatch a few enemy soldiers in the latest Call of Duty game. Engrossed in the on-screen carnage, fingers and thumbs tapping away on the controller buttons, he doesn’t take his eyes off the TV screen. “What is it I always say?”

We speak simultaneously: “Plenty more fish in the sea.”

Alpha Girl enters at that moment. “Blew it again, did you?” she says.

I look back, resignedly, at her. “No, not this time.”

“Well, you know what Beta Max says…”

“Don’t say it-”

Beta Max and Alpha Girl in tandem this time, a huge and devious smile on Beta Max’s face: “Plenty more fish in the sea.”)

 

My second face-to-face date (and third woman I’ve spoken to*). Not so bad. Had a nice meal. Company was okay. Looking like my ex-wife was not a positive point.

Why is it that people don’t look like the photos they put online? Is it because they use old photos, when they were better looking, thinner, had different hair, before they got old and before they got the skin grafts? Yes, my photos are a few years old, but I still look basically the same (except for a few more grey hairs in my goatee and my hairline receding slightly…okay, maybe I shouldn’t be complaining about anyone else).

It is a bit unfair though. I know we shouldn’t judge people based on their looks alone, but isn’t that what first impressions are all about? If the datee puts a misleading photo (or photos) on their online dating profile, aren’t they enticing the unwary would-be dater into a trap, of sorts? The meeting is going to be a surprise, if the dater recognises them at all. Maybe they’re hoping their sterling conversational skills will save the day. After all, looks aren’t everything, right?

Maybe I’m complaining for the sake of complaining. I’m disillusioned and I’ve only met three women so far. I’m sure there will be more. Hopefully not as misleading as the first few.

Back to the coal face. Once more unto the breach. Plenty more fish in the sea (Ugh!).

 

(“Maybe you should hang out at the supermarket,” says Alpha Girl.

“You think I’ll be more successful at meeting women there?” I say.

“No, but I’d see a lot less of you.”)

 

*To find out how that one went, click here. To find out how the second one went, click here. To avoid my whinging altogether, click here for some poetry.      

The Veil of Love. A Haiku Trilogy.

The Veil of Love (a Haiku Trilogy)

Blind

Two make lust make love
Their empty hearts clamouring  
Blindly revealed

Veil

Their fears awakened
A corruption internal
The red veil lifted

Apogee

Point of no return
A course correction applied
Zero apogee

 

This came to me this morning. I love Haiku – it’s simple 5/7/5-syllable structure is challenging, but allows one to speak volumes with its brevity.

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