A Quaint Poem

For some reason I got to thinking about "first times". My wife is out of town, so I was just thinking about her. First dates, "first time" together, first kiss, first fight ... you get the picture. Well, my wife is also an English teacher. So I got to thinking about teenagers' first times.
So for some reason in my twisted mind, this is what I came up with.. no more preamble.

It was my first time, there was such elation,
Oh, damn, pre-mature-ejac-u-lation.
The shame, the embarrassment, oh the distress,
Not to mention, the warm sticky mess.
My cheeks were hot and burning,
My partner left unsated and yearning.
This was my first time, it was only just a fling,
But at least everyone knows that I'm a sure thing.
I'm sure this will get all over the school,
There goes my chance to ever be cool.

Again, you can blame Brandy for this one too.

The Inevitable Dust Problem

Well, with the advent of Spring, comes more daylight.. daylight that I can actually use, because it's after I get off work. So, imagine.. being able to do stuff outside... after work, because there is still daylight. Sorry, you'll have to give me a moment here... I get so emotional about this. As you may have noticed from the other posts, I'm working on restoring a truck. I have most of the shop supplies I need, (not major tools.. like a plasma cutter, oxy acetaline setup, pin welder, stud puller... etc...) but there is one thing I almost always forget to pick up when I'm out at the autoparts store. Dusk masks. If you have ever used a grinder, a sander, a cut off wheel, or even a paint can, you know this one undeniable truth. Any dust, mist, vapor, particle will end up inside your nose, turning your boogers into an almost concrete-like substance. It makes for interesting shapes, colors, and textures. I'll give you a moment here to digest.... I know you are asking yourself.. "Why"? Blame Brandy, she wanted me to post something tonight. I said I really didn't have anything, and she said make something up. So that is what I came up with tonight. Enjoy, and have a yummy dinner.

Time or Money

Those of you who have ever restored a vehicle know there are 2 things required (Not counting skill as the 3rd), time, and money. I am now at that stage... have been really the whole time. I am waiting for money to buy the stainless steel, allen-head engine bolt kit, for my engine. While I am waiting I decided to do a couple things I've had on the back burner for a while. Shave the drip rails on the cab of my truck, and shave my front bumper. I have the knowledge, and the skill, it doesn't cost any money, and I have the time while the truck sits in the garage waiting for the engine bolts. For those of you who don't know, drip rails on the cab of the truck are an invitation for rust along the cab seams, so shaving is almost a must, not to mention it gives a nice, clean look. Shaved front bumpers get rid of the unsightly bolt heads from the mounting bolts. Once chromed, also gives a nice, clean look. So while I wait for my air compressor to fill up, I figured I'd update this blog. Wish me luck, any of you familiar with a cut off wheel, and a grinder know about flying slag. And I know what you're thinking, of course I'm wearing protective gear. Yeah... right.

Grief and Loss

Okay boys and girls... and others. This one is about loss, get your tissues ready.

No one know why, there usually are no reasons,
But death is a passing, much like the seasons,
It's a shame it happens to people we know,
Yet death is a part of life; we all have to go,
It's not goodbye, but a parting of ways,
An agreement to meet again, in future days,
To meet each other in a better place,
To be greeted upon arrival by a familiar face,
Remember, grandpa will always be in your heart,
Not even death can keep the two of you apart.

I originally wrote this for my Grandmother... and myself, to deal with the loss of my Grandfather. I have since shared it with family to deal with the loss of that Grandmother, my
other Grandfather, and several friends along the way. Feel free to use it, or share it with a friend dealing with grief. It has is broke in, well worn, and has a nice comforting feel to it. Death is natural, grief is expected, temper it with all the good memories you have, or it will tear you apart.

Setting the record straight

Just so you guys out there (if there are any of you reading these; no comments or emails to prove it. *hint hint*) don't get the wrong impression of me, or as my friend Brandy says, to keep you from pegging me down and classifying me easily, here is another poem I wrote. You will notice it doesn't have the same mood to it. It was written at a low point in my life.


There is a large price you pay keeping to yourself,
It's hard to get your emotions back off the shelf,
Confusion, heartache, sorrow, and pain,
Meaningless relationships without any gain,
You yearn and strive for something more,
But all you find is some cheap whore,
There's no such thing as romance, you don't need luck,
The women of the nineties, all they want is a fuck,
A word to the wise, a note about protection,
Make sure that you wrap that erection,
So those of you out there fucking at will,
Don't be surprised when later, you turn up ill.

You can probably tell from the "feel" of the poem, that it is mine, but you will not a big mood change from the previous ones. I write at different times, mostly to put my thoughts in order. Raging thoughts can be caused by joy, pain, sadness, loss... writng lets me ponder over my feelings, and having to put them in order, with a rhyme scheme makes me go over the feelings over and over... helps me process and get things straight.

Darkness

Okay guys and gals, and others that tune in to read my rants, raves, and ramblings. You may find a common theme here between this poem and the last. Surpise, same girl, same writer (me) and same situation.

For me, darkness holds a special place,
It casts intricate shadows across your face,
Darkness is more special with the moon above,
During those times I can truly express my love,
Night is a time when dreams are most real,
Through those dreams we see how we feel,
Your dreams last night I could tell were sweet,
As I sat on your bed and tickled your feet,
Last night, I placed a kiss on your cheek,
And that simple act made me feel weak,
Because my love for you is a consuming flame,
And not some immature childish game,
You looked so gorgeous and peaceful last night asleep,
In my heart that one image I know I'll always keep,
I sat on your bed for hours last night,
The reason, just to keep you in my sight.

Looking back at these poems, and the memories they bring, it's amazing the two of us were never physically intimate. We did seem to spend a lot of time alone.... in bed.... at night.... if I were the man I am now instead of the boy I was then... who knows. Natural progression and all, i guess.

Pubescent Lust

This is a poem I wrote when I was a teenager... I wrote it for my first true love. My first almost-adult-love. Looking back it isn't all that bad. I have a few pre-pubescent poems that make me shudder or cringe.

He tells her his love while she's half-asleep,
Heartfelt items he was supposed to keep,
In the quiet, dark hours of the night,
With her in his arms and within his sight,
With half-whispered words, too soft for her to hear,
While he strokes her cheek and tells them to her ear,
With the smell of her perfumed hair in his nose,
He still thinks she's too sexy for her clothes, (Reference to the song I'm too sexy for my...)
Moments of tenderness,
A gentle caress,
Those things he does to show her his care,
If she's awake he'd never tell, he wouldn't dare,
He can see her at night in his dreams,
And his love has no bounds or seams,
Either asleep or awake she always looks fine,
For him, her love is better than any wine,
He tries to comfort her whenever she's down,
It almost kills him to see her frown,
When he's worried about her, he gets nothing done,
For him, forever and always, she's the only one.

This was "The One" or at least I wanted her to be. Like I said, my first real non-puppydog love. We stayed High School sweethearts, we learned alot about ourselves, and then we both went off to college and learned a whole lot more, just not from each other, (we broke up before going off to the same college) but that, my friends, as they say, is another story.