a new one by Jean
I have a bone
to pick with you.
I heard you died.
You shoulda called.
I woulda been there.
I woulda told you
again
how much I love you.
I woulda asked
again
how much do you love me.
we knew
we know
the answers.
It woulda been nice
to hear it
again.
I missed your leaving.
Please don't do it
again.
A post from Jean; originally published 8/23 on "Pondering" (see Jean's site)
Y'all do check out her web site as well as NAD, don't you?
There is only one first time.
Mine was in college when I was 21.
It began at a frat party. No doubt drinking was involved.
Back then I was an even cheaper drunk than I am now.
One bottle of Stroh's got me a nice buzz. Second bottle
got me drunk-ish. If there was a third bottle, I needed help
getting back to my dorm room to find the bathroom.
'Cuz I was gonna puke.
aaanyway…lots of the details are missing from memory but
here is the gist:
Somehow, he and I ended up at his apartment off-campus.
Foreplay? What's that?
I don't remember clothes coming off but they did, somehow.
I honestly had no idea what was going to happen.
It happened quickly. It was disappointing because the only thing
I felt was a sharp pain. Cherry popped.
When he was done he said, "You are taking the pill, right?"
When I stuttered, "uh, no." His eyes got very large and he said,
"I'll walk you back to your dorm."
I had trouble keeping up because he was walking so fast.
I never saw him again.
The next "encounter" I had was much nicer. That man knew what
he was doing and helped me learn the right way. Believe it or not,
the nice man and I are still friends 50+ years later.
To Storm Murray, if you're still out there, I hope you got better with practice.
I know I did.
Continue reading →Posted by Jean on her site: https://beauvoirglass.blogspot.com/
Also - proof she's in the right place coming here ....
:) :) :)
Continue reading →First published by Jean, Jan 24, 2007
No promise of
sense or sanity.
Life expectancy of either.
Saturate with what
good is now.
Dissect, digest what
dark may bring again.
Away with that which creeps
and hopes to hide
jeweled bits of learning.
Know, remind (self)
good is greater here.
I am more.
More than troubles.
More than grief
and error.
Heartbeat does continue
pulsing life and
joy and dreams.
If beat should skip
then pause, reflect.
Breathe deep.
Breathe deep.
Continue…
A post by Jean
How many marbles
are we supposed to have?
A handful?
A headful?
A mouthful?
I can't find mine.
Anywhere.
Not in the closet.
Not under the bed.
Not out on the sidewalk
where I played with them last.
Did they roll away
or did you hide them?
It's your fault
I lost them.
It's your fault
I'm sad.
You don't have to admit it.
I know what I know.
Playtime is over.
You need to go.
Published by Jean June 28, 2025
or do I?
you're not the first
who wants me
to stay hidden
in the shadows
only come when called
but don't call you.
If what you
already have
is so good
why am I here?
What's really missing from
where you are?
Think about it
and let me know
the next time you call.
published by Jean October 9, 2011
it's been days and days.
many
many
more than one day.
so many days that
memory did forget
any other days that
were not as this day.
gray
dull
listless, lifeless,
soundless swirl.
blending endlessly
each day
into
every day.
some day
begins.
no day
ends.
but, wish I had.
Published by Jean August 6, 2007
Found it in a book called Kiss Me Like A Stranger by Gene Wilder.
"After A While" by Veronica A. Shoffstall
After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand and chaining a soul
and you learn that
love doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't always mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child
and you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn that even sunshine burns
if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure,
that you really are strong
and you really do have worth.
and you learn
and you learn
with every good-bye you learn.
good stuff, eh?
Continue reading →Published by Jean August 30, 2007
It isn't about the flowers. Or any other gift.
It's about the effort.
It's about letting her know you value her.
Slow dance with her... in the kitchen, on the porch.
Even if you can't dance you can hold her tenderly
and sway with the music. Then tell her she smells nice.
Even if she isn't wearing perfume.
Tell her she's pretty when she isn't dressed up.
Leave a note on her pillow. Write, "I love you."
Bring her a flower when there is no special occasion.
Don't take it for granted that she knows how you feel
just because you're still around.
She wants to hear it. She wants to see it.
Do you like her laugh, her eyes, her hair, her legs?
Tell her.
If you don't love her enough to keep letting her know it...
leave.
Break her heart once, not every day for the rest of her life.
