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Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Love's Legal Tender

Andy
Warhol
gauche.

My silly
sweetheart
poems.

Saccharine sweet
and a half-inch deep,
inadequate to convey
fathoms of love at play
every time I think
of you.

Pedestrian and crude,
like fatty fast food,
they clog your heart
with dueling Descartes
as I struggle with the
love I can imagine and
the love I can prove.

I think, therefore exist,
my love is no trick,
no phantom of feverish brain.
No mirage born of heat,
nor soporific feat
of mad philosophic strain.

These poems are
love's legal tender,
the feeble attempt
by my heart to render
payment in full to you,
my beautiful poetic muse.

© Francisco G. Rodriquez, 2012

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Life in a Garbage Can

Walking late afternoon
this beautiful fall season,
I happened across a
trash can full of
late season flies.

The flies buzzed morosely,
as if aware the early frost
soon would terminate their
short lives on the trash heap.

They gathered mournfully
around a blue puddle of
sticky liquid, almost as
though parishioners praying
around sacred wine.

The afternoon sun glinted
on their fragile wings
as they languished in
torpidity inside their
trashy plastic universe.

For a moment,
just a moment,
I understood that
I was seeing our own
world from a god's
perspective.

This beautiful garden
that we call earth
is come close to an oily
trash can, and we the
flies around a sacred
black petroleum wine.

The detrital byproducts
of modern life fill
our lives, our minds,
our bodies and our
sacred spaces with
toxicity and garbage.

Do we, too, exist in
the late afternoon fall sun?
Is our existence also as perilous
as those flies living out their
lives in a garbage can?

© Francisco G. Rodriquez, 2012

Friday, October 21, 2011

Left Unsaid

I am learning so much from you.
It is amazing how much
I never knew.

You taught me that it is
more important to listen
for the things left unsaid.

A glance, a smile,
a quickly dried tear;
a touch, a squeeze,
a half-hidden fear;
those are the unspoken
words I must always hear;
those things, left unsaid,
to your heart are dear.

I love you for all the things
you are too sensitive to say.
I love you for telling me everything
in your quiet, loving way.

A man such as I needs
all the grace he can find,
and a woman like you
should probably never be mine.

But you grace me with your beauty,
you walk where angels fear to tread,
so I accept it as my solemn duty
to understand your words left unsaid.

© Francisco G. Rodriquez, 2012

Rusty Ship of Friends

Life took a toll
on most of my
friendships.

A narrow wife,
a constricted life,
the joy of children,
griefs unbidden,
all of these oxidized
the ship that sailed with
my collection of good
friends.

Now my life approaches
a different phase
in which I have more
freedom than in
younger days.

And that begs
the question
of what next to do,
when you figure out
the hull of your
friend ship has
rusted through?

The answer,
like cancer,
had riddled
my brain.
And the cure
ensures
I will have my
friends again.

Like Noah,
I will find them.
one by one,
and two by two.
I will build a new ship,
fill it with friends
old and new.

No longer resting
on life's ocean floor,
I will salvage my
rusty ship of friends,
haul it back ashore
where we will laugh,
drink wine in the sun,
sharing life's victories
and aright life's wishes
still left undone.

© Francisco G. Rodriquez, 2012

Shall I Wait Forever?

Shall I wait forever
for your answer,
which may be "never"?

Shall I hold my breath
as you consider,
turning blue as death?

Say yes, say yes;
just tell me yes.

I will bring you flowers, and
we will lay abed for hours
wondering how we ever lived
without this lover's gift,
this time to spend alone.

I will play soft music,
mellow, warm and soothing.
We will whisper quiet,
and our passion will run riot
inside our lover's home.

Is that worth the waiting?
Does your heart beat still for me?
Can we stop debating?
Do you finally see?

Say yes, say yes;
just tell me yes.

© Francisco G. Rodriquez, 2012

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Promises

What are promises
but sincere words wrapped
in ribbon of hope?

I try not to make
promises I cannot keep.
I try not to give
assurances I cannot meet.

I want to tell you
everything will be fine.
I want to sell you on
this faulty love of mine.

But this love doesn't come
with any guarantees.
It is like the autumn sun
humbled by a winter breeze.

Do you need promises
that cannot be fulfilled?
Do you seek certainty
that milk will not be spilled?

You are the dairy maid,
you know the prices paid
for love that is hidden,
for love that is forbidden.

So I won’t make promises
that I cannot sustain;
I won't turn I love you
into a glass of cheap champagne.
No other lover, no demon dark
can tempt me away with promises,
of greater love than yours.

I will ask you
to stay with me
to the end,
as my lover,
as my friend.

Let my tongue
play joyfully
around your name
until that glad day when
my words are no more,
and my life has been given
to you with sincerity
wrapped in hope.

© Francisco G. Rodriquez, 2012

Friday, October 14, 2011

Heaven Afoot

My most beautiful friend.

You are heaven afoot,
an angel unwinged
so a devil like me
can hold you for
a moment,
and desire you
for eternity.

Our souls touch
when you but hold
my hand.

When you lay
down with me,
time stops,
and I smile.


© Francisco G. Rodriquez, 2012

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Love Today

Love today
is so confusing.

We all have hurts, regrets,
baggage we don’t want to claim.

I love you is so easy to say,
but so hard to mean.

It comes with questions --
Is it real? Does she mean it?
Why must I ask to be told?

Sometimes love is true
but is trapped inside
a too cautious heart.

Love today,
at this age,
in this age,
is so confusing.

So just wrap your arms around me.
Hold me close, and kiss my cheek.
Let me feel your breath on my face.
That is the comfort I need.

Be my true friend,
and I will hold tightly
to you for always.

Because
love today
is too confusing.


© Francisco G. Rodriquez, 2012

Peace, Be Still

Silence.

Just be still.

Wisdom is found
in the space between
your thoughts,
not in the thoughts
themselves.

Peace.

Be Still.

Just breathe.

Just listen.

Understanding,
at last.

© Francisco G. Rodriquez, 2012

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Ninety Nine and Hot

I remember the first time I saw you
sitting in your chair.
I wanted to say you're beautiful
but I just didn't dare.

I never guessed a woman like you
could love a man like me.
Of all the things I thought I knew,
I thought our love could never be.

I was wrong and I'll say it.
It's my song and I'll play it.

And when you're ninety nine,
and still smoking hot,
and whether you're with me then,
or not,
I'm going to love you
anyway.

I remember the first time I kissed you,
in the cab of your pickup truck,
and when you left I missed you,
and hoped that we would
get to know each other better.

And when it all happened
it was like a dream come true,
I saw the silver fireworks,
just like they say you do.

But then I lost you.
I let you slip away.
And it cost me
a price I couldn't pay.

I was wrong and I'll say it.
It's my song and I'll play it.

And when you're ninety nine,
and still smoking hot,
and even after with me
you are not,
I'm going to love you
anyway.

© Francisco G. Rodriquez, 2012

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Gradients of Love

There is I love you,
madly, passionately,
and you're the
only one.

And then there's
I love you,
you're my daughter
or my son.

Sometimes, I love you
is said in kind support.
Other times I love you
is said in jest, as sport.

Love changes with the gradient,
the incline of the slope,
love changes in a person's heart
from sublime to knotted rope.

You say that you love me still,
but I don't know what it means.
Our love of fiery passion has
mellowed and grown lean.

On love's gentle gradient
I don't know where we stand.
Over our love light radiant
darkness has command.

Maybe your I love you
means a slow goodbye.
Or I love you as a friend now,
and that's all I can supply.

My prayer is for I love you
as only you could say,
and if I find that love again
it will never get away.

© Francisco G. Rodriquez, 2012

Let's Face It

Let's face it...
I need help.

I am mortally
wounded,
emotionally
scarred and
incapable of
trust.

I can hear you say
I love you a million
times, and I still
cannot believe it.
In my mind, I replay
all the times I heard
those words before.

And look how that
turned out.

Perhaps it is because
you are so beautiful.
Maybe I don't think
I am worthy of your
love and affection.

You are out of my league.
You are more than I
could ever imagine
to desire.

Or maybe it's because
of my own past sins
of omission and commision.
Things I did that I am
not proud of, which
haunt me to this day.

Maybe because of those
sins, I feel unforgiven,
undeserving and unlovable.

I really don't know the
answers, after years of
soul searching and
staring at my navel.

So let's face it...
I need help.

The kind of help that
only you can give.
The kind of love that
gives me reason to live.
The kind of help that
shows there is a God
in his heaven smiling
down on me and you.

It is so much to ask.
It is so much to need.
And I understand if you
want to cut out my
heart and laugh as
you watch me bleed.
I have wronged you out
of my own distrust.
I have besmirched you
with my ego made of dust.

Let's face it ...
you're too good to
ever be with me.
And after the hurt I
have caused you,
why would you
ever want to be?

Maybe it's too late
to get back to what
we had before.
Maybe in your heart
you have already
shut the door.

But let's face it ...
without you I have
only half a life,
without you I lose
the will and strength
to fight
life's greater jihad.

Let's just face it ...
without you
there is not
much me
left to even help.

© Francisco G. Rodriquez, 2012

Thursday, October 06, 2011

A Proper Goodbye

Mere words won't do.

Goodbye seems hollow,
not appropriate for what
passed between us.

The highest highs,
the lowest lows,
the deepest sighs,
the fire below;
that's what we had,
that's what we
almost had.

I would be lying if
I said I was not
devastated by it all.
I would be trying
to mislead if I said
I was not sad,
I was not mad
at how it ended.

In our denouement,
this poem is all I am left;
my only way to bid
you a proper goodbye.

Know this.
Love always shines
in the darkest places,
love always finds
the smallest spaces
to grow green again,
to flow streams within
the most parched of hearts.

My wish is that you find
all the love you need,
and that you can forgive me
for this simple screed,
this poem,
this feeble attempt
to tell you a proper
goodbye.

© Francisco G. Rodriquez, 2012

I Held Your Hand, God Holds Your Soul

I promised you
and God
that I would be there
on that fateful day
of your passing.

There were late night
phone calls saying
she's dying now,
come home quick,
this time she's really sick.

I would get there
only to find you
sitting up and breathing,
suffering with pain
the doctors could not explain.

Slowly, yet quickly,
I watched you age,
saw you waste away,
but stubbornly holding on,
even after hope was gone.

In the end it was hospice,
strangers in your house,
injecting you with medicines
that melted you into death,
everyone saying it was for the best.

I sat next to you for hours,
and I held your hand,
saying that I loved you,
hoping you would understand,
even though I knew
you were already gone.

But mom, I never did thank you
for the legacy, the gift of words that flow.
The life that you have given me
and much of what I know.
I visited your grave site just
the other day,and I found myself
crying over words I failed to say.

Your life was a hard one,
and yet you carried through,
held onto your faith
and never questioned who
was your savior,
your lord and your king.

And I can only imagine,
hope and pray,
that now you sit on high and sing,
your songs of joy and praise
at having gained the prize.

I believe that God welcomed you
into the bright glory of his love,
and that he embraced your soul
in His everlasting touch.

And when upon His face
you first gazed
I believe you heard him say
"well done, thou good faithful servant."

© Francisco G. Rodriquez, 2012