Wednesday, December 20, 2006

A poem that came to me


Victory
Copyright 2006 The Token Hippie

We stand facing one another, two warriors glaring
across the kitchen table battlefield.
Your barb has found its mark and I steady myself
with fingers gripping pitted pine surface

My calculated retort is the arrow in my bow,
poison-tipped and designed to harm.
I prepare to release for maximum effect,
feeling tension on a tongue eager to let fly.

And then, nothing. I drop my gaze
in a universal sign of surrender and look past you -
past your set jaw, past your squared shoulder
to where children play, unaware, outside.

How did this happen? How did I lose my taste for battle?
I think it is because as the child of warriors
I remember well watching them exchange fire
until, becoming impervious to arrows,
they switched to stones - the only thing
that could bruise battle-scarred facades.

They lobbed so many that the pile became a wall between them.
At night they retreated from the fight and mulled it over;
in separate camps, separate beds they plotted how
to better bludgeon those tender marks next time around.

We are not there yet. We can still feel the arrows. There is hope.
Raising my hand I unconsciously put it to my breast,
feeling for the wound. I look down,
half-expecting to see scarlet stains on white fingertips.

And then you are there, your regret
a reassuring mantle around my shoulders,
your desperate hug a tight tourniquet
that stops the flow of pain.

Let’s be done with war, we say,
for the sake of the alliance
for the sake of the prince and the princess
for the sake of love

The kiss that seals the treaty is so much sweeter
to the mouth than bitter words
and so much stronger

19 comments:

thimscool said...

OK. Now I really want to know what happened at the drunken office party.

Just kidding.

Good poem. I'm glad it worked out for you.

Morgan said...

Ha!

It had nothing to do with the drunken office party. In fact, the poem is acutally about a disagreement from some time back.

But I guess the experience was burned in my brain I just woke up at 3 a.m. this morning with this poem in my head and wrote it down.

Now, seeing that this is the second time you've mentioned the drunken office party, I will tell you that it was great fun.

This year's bash was heald at a karaoke lounge. Most of my co-workers were there from the newspaper as well as the bar regulars.

I've never karaoked but have always wanted to. So I decided to break my karoke cherry in a big way by singing the Divinyl's "I Touch Myself." I actually did a good job and earned not only a dollar tip but a tall cowboy stalker.

Larry referenced my performance, and the cowboy for several days afterwards but finally got over it. (However, I am now disallowed to go into any place with a karaoke machine without his being with me.)

It was fun. Perhaps a bit too much fun which is why the annual drunken office party only comes around once a year.

CJ said...

Nice poem. I found it happy and sad. I've read your blog for some time now and as the end of the year draws near I hope you won't mind if I thank you for what you've done here. The pictures, stories, opinions and poems always make it interesting. I never know what to expect from you Morgan but I always know it will be good. Merry Christmas, doll.

Morgan said...

Thank you so much, CJ. You almost made me cry. I'm so fortunate to have the small but wonderful group of visitors who come here to read, comment or debate. I've learned a lot from all of you and appreciate the off-list relationships I've been able to form with some.
I hope you also have a great holiday.

Andrea said...

It was a nice poem, and I don't usually enjoy poetry. And that party sounded fun!
Hope you have a very jolly Christmas weekend, Morgan:)

Anonymous said...

How lovely and poingant. And please allow me to second what CJ said. I truly enjoy reading here.
Happy Holiday season to you and yours
God Bless You,
Margaret

Bobbb - Citizen of Earth said...

Very nice Morgan
3 am poetry
It’s odd that you post it now

For I have just posted a 3 am poem myself
It’s a song actually
Coincidence?

Actually the incident occurred at 3 am
And the song appeared as I tried to write her a letter about it
She has that effect on me – turning my words into songs…

I liked your kitchen battlefield imagery
Intimacy intertwined with conflict
Fantasy with everyday reality

We so often argue about nothing
Familiarity breeds contempt?

But it also breeds stability, and trust
I for one was glad to see a truce

Morgan said...

Thanks, Andrea! I hope you have a good holiday as well!

Bobb, I'll get over and check your post tomorrow. That is quite a coincidence. My poems always come to me in the wee hours. I'm not sure why. But it's nice to get inspiration, even if we have to crawl out of bed to jot it down.

Happy holidays to you!

Shrubbery said...

This shit doesn't rhyme!

You're no poet, and I know it, your words are clumsy
I can show it, so others know it, you're the no rhymin' hippie
Morgan spews words that chew on imaginary strings
Shrub is shrewd and never lewd and can make the keyboard sing
Shrub is grand even without hands and everyone sighs
I start the band that chimes this errand that bids each all goodbye

Damn I'm good! Hey Morg, MERRY CHRISTMAS to you & yours. Be safe, see ya on the flip side. Love ya girlie yo.

Morgan said...

Shrub,

My writing tends to bumble,
your assessment keeps me humble
I'm sorry that my poem did not rhyme
But you're still my favorite fellow
when you stop by to bellow
I hope you have an awesome Christmas time.

Love you too, buddy. Here's wishing you a great holiday and an awesome New Year.

Sterculian Rhetoric said...

The Autumn

the geraniums are struggling now
like our love
the stoat lies squashed
flattened as our summer dreams

the sun rises like an egg
one of those watery ones
it has no heat
nay, not now

incessant rains have washed me clean
of optimism
while in her flooded burrow
the coney waits

clenched bite of weasel
sends her to the surface
full fur flying in a blur
sharp-eyed harrier has its tea

if we watered them
fed them nitrates
they would flourish
once again

with fragrant sighs and whispered murmurs
you give me hope, for the spring
give us a kiss you stupid prick
is what you say.

Bobbb - Citizen of Earth said...

Merry Christmas Morgan!

Happy holidays to you and your precious family

Lots of love and big hugs for all of you

Yes I've been into the eggnog
But this greeting is sincere

MmmmmWA!~

thimscool said...

Yes, Morgan. I second Bobbb's yuletide greetings.

Merry Christmas to you and all who read here. Here's to a prosperous and felicitous new year too! [Hic]

That Cleaning Lady said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
That Cleaning Lady said...

I second all those thanks's to you for sharing pics and stories of Octavia and Joe and the kids and Larry and all those beautiful shots of animals and flora and fauna. I appreciate much more the spiders and birds and hippies of the world thanks to you!! Happy New Year and I look forward every time to reading your blogs and the great comments ensued.
I'd like to know too how Shrub can type so well without hands?? Must be quite the nose-typists huh? Wow, color me amazed. I enjoy Bobb and CJ and timscool too. You draw the poet out in so many, I hope some day you'll write a blog book... =-)

Sterculian Rhetoric said...

I'd say merry christmas too if I meant it. But I don't so I won't.
Feel free to have one anyway. I'm doing battle with some paramecia right now so I do not see why anyone else should have a good time.
Kisses.

El Borak said...

Merry Christmas, Morgan. May God continue to bless you in the coming new year!

Morgan said...

Bobb, Thimscool, Cleaning Lady: Thanks so much for the warm holiday wishes.

I'd planned to post something festive but have just been too busy the last few days to do so. I've had a fabulous Christmas and hope you all have as well.

SR, your poem was lyrical and weird. The two of you should be proud of yourselves. That last line was profanely exquisite. And no need to explain; unlike Bill O'Reilly's vision of America, no one here is required to wish anyone a Merry Christmas. Just be yourselves.

Now sit tight and if all goes well I'll have a Drunken Owl story to tell you tomorrow.

Morgan said...

El Borak, I am remiss in my Dispensing of Holiday Greetings. I left you out.

So, Happy Holidays to You! I hope your Christmas was Most Excellent and your New Year Exceeds Expectations!