The First Man to Woo Me with His Words

During my high school career I day-dreamed a lot, and remember very little other than the moments of regret. Once I tried to impress a guy by belting out that I got the latest “Deanna Carter” CD for Christmas. I’d hoped my attempt would have him realize that I too liked country music and therefore we would have a powerful connection, somehow. Unfortunately, it was ill timed and his 3 friends turned to stare at me with bewilderment. He was 3 years my senior, and not only did I blow my chances with him, but I set myself up for recurrent embarrassment every time I made eye contact with anyone from the class of ‘97.  He was my “boyfriend” for 2 weeks during the prior summer, so my time had already come and gone anyway. 

Regardless of my social status, it was clear during those years that I became a hopeless romantic. A pivotal moment in my younger life was during my Creative Writing class. My teacher, her face I don’t remember, had limbs like a Tim Burton character and smelled of vodka, moth balls, and cats. She was, however, encouraging of my writing abilities which had a great impact on me in comparison to my English teacher who once told me my poem of a ship-at-sea was worthless. I really couldn’t see how even the football players in the class wrote something better than me, but he also didn’t have the image of them crushing beer cans on their foreheads from the weekend prior. I decided at that point that I wasn’t going to try to do well in that class. I think I skipped it for most of that semester.

During my favorite Creative Writing class I came across a poet during a specific assignment. At that time I didn’t know it would alter the way I viewed writing. The authors name was Rod McKuen, and the first book I picked up was titled Stanyan Streets and Other Sorrows. His words spoke directly to my romanticism married with my teenage hopelessness. Oh the hardships of a teenager! 

I feel safe, powerful, and untouchable in the world of language and the assembling of vocabulary. Credit is due to the poetaster who conveyed writing is whatever you want to make it. I was unleashed! 

Every once in a while I’ll happen upon a poem of Rod McKuen, and sometimes I’ll read my own and find a direct influence from the man who’d woo me from the pages of his works. While perusing through a few of my writings from this last year I came across several that I will share with you, but first a taste from the poems of a man I'd learned of in high school:

Comfort

If we could do it

              all again

motorbike

    through Roman cities

in the rain

watch the cats chase lizards

                         in the forum

and drink bad wine

from mouth to mouth

I probably would try

to love you harder than I did

I probably would smile a smile 

much better than the ones

                              you knew

for I was just rehearsing then

imagining what easily might happen

                  in years to come.

It is not just you I love

(or even Roman rain)

or all the time you rattled

                        on my window

after twelve o'clock.

I love the smell of rooms-

where you have been

the foreign touch 

of things I never knew

until you came along.

I even love your enemies 

because they drive you

to my arms

            for comfort.

Some of my recent: 

The Awaited Journey

Where will I follow you too?

Into tomorrow and all through the day

up the mountain and during the belay. 

I've got a world picked out for you.

Let's head down roads leading to nights 

filled with fires 

and daylight naps 

in fields filled with wild grass 

and noisy bugs 

where ponds lay still and streams trickle over hillsides. 

I'm ok with dirty finger nails and unwashed jeans 

as long as we're sorrounded by mountains 

and filled with the air they supply. 

I'm a mountain girl, mountain boy.

And I'm ready to trek the world 100 times over. 

B Street

I’ve vanished from my body 

I’m lost in your eyes 

and imagine where they’ve ventured too in your lifetime. 

Your mouth distracts me from the words you’re saying  

I can’t hear you. 

What woman hasn’t been mesmerized by you? 

I can’t form a thought that doesn’t have to do with touching you 

Withholding myself seems  pointless 

the resistance slowly weakens me. 

Your skin glows as warm as Bora Bora beaches 

and I’m certain your cheek bones would cradle perfectly in the cup of my hands. 

The canvas that presents 

your lips, nose, and eyes 

beckons me to explore it 

with all of my being. 

The temperature around my heart has slowly risen 

and I’m certain you can tell something is up 

by the way I have to intently focus on your eyes

still I can’t hear a word you're saying. 

I want to be close to you 

with no intention 

but to feel you’re very existence next to me. 

What have you been saying? 

What have I been saying? 

Have I said anything? 

Do you know what you’ve been saying? 

Are we both experiencing this together? 

Wow, your smile.
You’d turn my world upside down 

if you’d intended one only for me. 

There’s no place I wouldn’t want to go with you. 

This experience has my thoughts running in different directions 

I'm as light and unpredictable as the air surrounding 

after this heavy rain.  

I can feel what it would be like 

for my lips to graze near yours

and I’m in a whirlwind. 

My mouth has gone dry

I lick my lips

I lick them again. 

I bite them as they’re swelling. 

Who are you that you do this to me? 

What spell is this? 

I never want to walk away from you

and though I know we won't kiss goodbye 

I’d love to look at you 

for 

a 

few 

more 

moments. 

I now understand the endearment "honey." 

You are honey to my eyes and lips. 

I’m salivating at the possibility of tasting you one day. 

For now, that's all. Enjoy the words and go love on someone who gives you the permission to graze their lips with yours.

Xox,

Sarah