Friday, May 22, 2009

Poetry Friday

First a contest announcement: click your way over to my buddy, Ms. KM Walton, for a chance to win free, original, personalized, super-creative business cards (or invitations, or what-have-you) from Uniquely Noted. Of course, you'll be competing against me, so, if you can handle that kind of heat -- better bring your A-game.

This contest just happens to perfectly coincide with my first ever crack at 'Poetry Friday', a creative phenomenon that's sweeping the blogosphere like a California brush fire. Thank you, Kelly, for spilling a little gasoline on me, (and then casually discarding a cigarette butt.*) When I figure out where you can find this week's host of Poetry Friday, this here sentence will become an actual link.

A few things you should know:

1. My wonderful little wife has gone out of town for three days
2. I miss her when she's gone.
3. So my first poem is kind of a love thing, which I writed.
4. If you make fun me, I will spam your blog with links to Viagra advertisements.
5. Did I mention my poetry's not all that good?

Disclaimer: It's true. I'm not much of a poet. In fact, I keep all of my poetry hidden. Because of the almost certain death-blow which shall swiftly descend upon my already flagging 'street-cred'.

All right. Enough with the apologetic preambles. Here it is: a love poem from a doofus.


Waiting to Sleep
by Ray Veen

It is dim and I am waiting
for you to come to bed.
I see you in the bright
brushing, foaming spitting,
hair pulled back strict, looking
at your reflection through thick glasses,
seeing no makeup, seeing a tired face,
seeing what I cherish.

In the bedroom.

You unhook your bra but keep your t-shirt and panties on.
A toned abdomen beneath sagging skin that reminds me
of my treasured ones.

‘Have I told her yet today, how beautiful she is?’

You slip in and press close
as if desperate, but you are simply tired.
There is half a bed beyond you.
And sometimes I complain about that.

Secretly I adore it.

Our bodies welded lengthwise in nothing more spectacular than imminent rest but
we are one in it – as in all things.

I trace your shape.
Like I always do.
Firm and smooth then a bony knob.
A soft dip.
Then, ribs.
And then I stop.
Because I know you hate to be tickled.

I cup you.
Strap you in iron.
I press our minds side-to-side
unwinding, ready to sleep.
Comfort swells
from beneath and beyond and within

and we can sleep.


*Ms. Polark's tobacco use and/or nicotine addiction can neither be confirmed nor denied.


Keri Mikulski said...

Very sweet.. Awe...

Do you give your wife the poems??

Anonymous said...

You got me a little excited when you said I strap you in Iron... :)

I was thinking you might have left out an important part about zipper masks or ball gags.

If it were my poem, I would have added something about monk cloaks that were cut off at the waist.

Great work.


shortensweet said...

Aww, that's very sweet and very well written and very Ray like.

Good job :)

Debra Lynn Shelton said...

Ray, I'm truly blown away. You are such a talented writer and your deep love for your wife is both precious and extraordinary. The day my husband wrote something like this would be the day I could die a totally happy and satisfied woman. Thanks for sharing this. I hope you win!

Serena Woods said...

wow. really, wow. :)

Ray Veen said...

Keri -- Actually she has an earlier version of this printed over a 5 X 7 of us. It hangs in her little cytology workroom.

M -- 'Preciate the enthusiasm. I don't get the monk robes thing, though.

Shorty -- Thanks. And thanks again for not calling me a dork.

Debra -- You are so sweet. I'd say even nicer things about you, but this post is supposed to be about Cindy.

Serena -- Glad you liked it. You should resurrect your blog and post some of your poetry. You know, cuz it's 'poetry Friday' and all.

K. M. Walton said...

Slap that baby onto some fancy paper and you've got yourself an annivesary gift. I'm serious.

K. M. Walton said...

Oh yea, and thanks for entering my little conteast :)

K. M. Walton said...

darnit, I mean conTEST.

VeeFlower said...

I am not allowed to comment because moms aren't supposed to know this stuff about their kids. (Hah! Now I know!) Great work.

HUBBYMAN said...


Anita said...

I love this!

Personally, I'm horrible at poetry. And I try, I really do.

Anonymous said...

Yeah, and I'm bad at budgeting, but it still has a place in my life.

All disclaimers aside, though

nice poem

Danielle said...

Very nice! I'm not big into poetry, but I liked :)

colbymarshall said...

Aw, sweet!

Sarah J Clark said...

Absolutely precious. I think I love your wife now too.

Ray Veen said...

Km -- I know you were mainly looking for 'funny', but I hope you won't hold 'romance' against me. Remember -- no wins ever.

Vee -- We don't do anything you wouldn't approve of. This poem is merely about going to sleep with the one you love.

Hubby -- But yours rhyme. I know from my song-writing endeavors that expressing yourself in verse in no easy thing.

Anita -- Whether our poetry is good or not, just making the attempt makes our prose skills sharper, wouldn't you agree?

Blackbird -- Too funny. I'd add lawnmowing to that list.

Danielle -- Thanks. So, do you not even write poetry in secret?

Colby -- Garsh, thanks. I need to get over to Colby-world, I think. It's been a while.

Sarah -- I believe my wife is rather fond of you too. In a lurking kind of way. Maybe I can get her to write a poem for you, though.

Kelly Polark said...

V- I didn't know you had it in you! Very sweet, well written poem. Your wife will tear up when she reads it!
And by the way, I've never smoked a cigarette (or anything else for that matter) in my life!
Hope you continue popping in on Poetry Friday (which I skipped last week!). Well done!

Ray Veen said...

Heh, turns out I'm the one with the nicotine addiction. In a very ironic way, I'm trying to quit today.

Jewel Allen said...

Very nice, Ray.

I want to start writing songs, which means I need to start writing poetry.

It's funny how writing something as short as a few stanzas seems harder than writing a book.

Monica said...

that is a truly beautiful poem, Ray. I mean that with all sincerity. It makes me wish that i had someone in my life who thought of me in enough consecutive seconds to put something like that together.

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