Friday, February 11, 2011

I prefer lillies.

.
.

No flowers for your heart, my love, though petal’d stems abound.
No lover to embrace your name or make your name a loving sound.

So rally up the troops of memories, and happy tries;
let’s brace ourselves for yet another onslaught of advice:
That Blessed Day is coming (a day we’ll largely be ignored),
though we stand beside the Fallen on Love’s same o’ercrowded shore.
It is Vict’ry of a diff’rent sort, over battles that we win
simply by enduring twelve more months of Pity’s din:
"Why you’ve not been snapped up yet, I can not pretend to know!”
is a word that precedes silence, awkward stares; unfunny jokes.
Perhaps it’s what you’ve wondered ‘loud, in sage-like wisdom best:
that something’s gone amiss with us, it is our fault; we failed your test.
I mean…there must be something wrong with us, or something not quite right.
Are we too opinionated? Too relaxed? Or too uptight?
Perhaps we analyze too often, or we think not near enough?
I bet we stay inside a lot, or do we brazenly show off?
We are far too independent right? But not enough to last?
Wait- if only we would just depend, we’d find our “second half!”
We’re bitter, feministic, absent-minded, comatose.
We’re messy, sad and desperate…or perhaps we’re none of those?
Please do suggest some more, I say, what faults do we possess?
What have we done to make you look at our lives with unrest?
On second thought, please disregard the charge to box my life
into your tiny corner filled with vanity and strife.
You would do best to give your lips a squeeze (not just your spouse);
don’t judge me if I use this day to clean my quiet house.
Don’t be upset that I get to have tea for one, not two;
that I’m not oft' awoken by a giant, snoring dude.

The single life’s not better, but it is the life I lead.
I lead it with panache and grace, you might want to take heed.
Please don't insist I trust the Lord, then ask what's wrong with me.

For those of you who knew this poem before it here was wrote,
I’ll leave you in your solitude once through this final note;

No flowers for your heart, and no lovers them to bring,
But you have got what’s long been sought: a life that’s worth something.
It sounds quite trite to say it (and with such a Day so near), but
I’ll say it anyway, on the off chance that you’ll hear:

The end is not the matter, nor is a golden ring;
Life is not lived the best at ends, but in its journeying.

© afterthoughtcomposer



6 comments:

bonbon said...

Love it! Would you write this out for me for my Valentines from you? I read it a few times......dude girl you've got such an awesome talent!

Pieter Goossens said...

Oh my, Ashley!

This is brilliant -and you are very right. I feel a strong urge of linking to this post on my facebook. May I?
In dutch your final note would probably sound a lot like this :) -

Geen bloemen voor jou hart en geen liefjes die ze bestellen, maar jij hebt het; zo lang gezocht: een leven waard vertellen.
Het klinkt stom om te zeggen (met zo'n Dag die ons toegloort), maar ik geef het je dan toch maar, kans bestaat dat je 't nog hoort.

't Is niet de top, waar 't al om draait, noch de ring van 't groot jolijt. Het fijnst is niet het einde maar de weg die ertoe leidt.

I'll be in touch soon!

Pieter

afterthoughtcomposer said...

Hey Pieter, definitely you can share it. Im happy to know youre still stopping by!

Bon- thanks for the love as usual!

Land of shimp said...

A little known fact about single people, you spend less on Advil. Oh-why-oh-why could that be? ;-) I'm kidding, obviously, but doesn't that sound as if it should be true?

If you feel like watching movies in your PJs on a Sunday evening, you can. Or dining on rice pudding for a week is also within the realm of being single. No need to consult, debate, or let the committee rule.

When I was younger I was married to a nice enough guy who, it turned out, was not the nice guy for me. Now I'm married to the nice guy for me but in between I had a nice long batch of singletude and there are still days when I miss it.

It's nice to be part of a pair, don't mistake me. What's even nicer? Knowing that regardless, you are whole unto yourself :-)

You visited me a while back and I didn't see the comment until today, so I thought I'd return the favor.

Here's hoping thrifty February leads to stockpiled savings.

Valentine's Day is a goofy holiday regardless of whether you are single, or paired up. Nowhere does there exist a less spontaneous display of affection. "Tell me you love me...under duress!" is hardly the stuff of grand romance.

Mama said...

This is perfectly wonderful. And I've always known that there's nothing wrong with you. So there.

Colleen Taylor said...

"But you have got what’s long been sought: a life that’s worth something."

Dearest Ashley,

Excellent poem. I lived this for several decades. May I never forget how much I often loved being single. And may I never forget how annoying it was to be told I was too "something": too picky, too smart, too this or that or the other. I was waiting, by faith, and trying (though not always successfully) to live faithfully in the sacrament of the present moment.

Bless you, bless you, bless you.