There's quite a collection, and some of it is really bad ("I'm sitting next to the fire, but I'm shivering, and I can't tell if it's the fault of the open door or my numb heart"). I am throwing out any bit of ego I might have had to share these next few gems with you, but it's worth it for the laugher I know I'm bringing to the world.
I. Water Stain (absolutely the worst poem ever written)
There is a water stain on my ceiling
It just showed up one day
Or did it?
When I saw it
I wasn't sure
If it had just appeared
Or if it had been there all along and only just been noticed
The building manager says
That once it is dry up there between
And the floor above
He'll tear it all out and replace it
But I don't see how one could tear out
Only a little ceiling (or floor)
And wall (since it dripped down)
Without making a terrible mess
Funny thing, but just after noticing the stain
I found myself noticing you, who just showed up one day
Or did you?
Perhaps you were there all along
Either way, I like you better than the stain
And hope you'll stay
Long after the ceiling that is my upstairs neighbor's floor
Gets a makeover
I'm not sure what that was...
The one-night stand
The phone calls
But I do know that I enjoyed it
And that I haven't giggled like that
On the phone
As I walk down the street
In a very long time
So thank you
"A companion," she said, "is all I want
someone to laugh with and talk with anytime"
"An on-call cuddler," I suggested
And she laughed and agreed
And though we're thousands of miles away
All of the sudden, we feel so close
Together in our alone-ness
And as I hold the phone to my ear
A thousand miles away, I hear a sob
And from a thousand miles away, I extend my arms
And wrap them around her
And the distance between us disappears
and for a moment
we are not alone
Once there was a girl, who I will call "Bird"
(for that is what I called her, actually)
And I loved her
(for she was my friend)
And that girl is all grown up
(well mostly, anyway)
And I still call her "Bird" and I still love her
(for she is still my friend)
You burned yourself tonight
I heard the crash and yelp
from my seat on the couch
And I jumped up and ran to the kitchen
To see you with your finger under the cold running water
And then I went and sat back down
For there was nothing I could do but watch
And I was pretty sure you didn't want an audience
But I do know that the dessert which you are making
(and for which you sacrificed the use of your finger for the next week)
Is going to be quite tasty.
I love fiercely
I live scared
What am I scared of?
That someone might love me fiercely back?
Or that he won't?