Tuesday, September 27, 2011


The raven scanned the ground below for the gift he'd long-ago lost.  It seemed like a lifetime since he'd seen it, that beautiful gift that he meant to give to her.  But it was gone. Lost forever in the thickly-wooded places where he'd hidden his heart.  Probably for the best, anyway. She'd burned their hideaway, smashing every window with  a hammer before lighting the fire herself. He sat quietly on the familiar branch, looking down at the bare patch that used to be the yard in which he'd hidden treasures.  He jumped from branch to branch, settled in on the familiar places, and tried to remember the place he'd called home.  Then he saw them, flitting in the wind, caught in the pine boughs high up off the ground.  He leapt, half-flying to them, and gathered one up in his beak.  Tears welled in his eyes as he took wing and soared away, a tattered plum scrap helping him remember the night sky...

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Life is Good

I saw the stars and heard the angels
While I waited for a sign
I felt the brush and hoped again
For a chance that she'd be mine

Weaving through a Summer's day
Or dancing in the snow
My heart it leapt and sung aloud
When again her smile glowed

Those beaming eyes, those ruby lips
Waiting for the day
When we could again just be in love
Somehow, Somewhere, Some way

Love then old, now new again
We knew that we would try
And as we laughed at hidden jokes
We agree that we gotta fly

<3 You

Seeing Red

She is beautiful
And she is kind

She is sweet
Her heart is mine

She is skilled
And she is bright

She holds my hand
In darkest night

She helps me sleep
When eyes won't close

She calms my soul
Inspires prose

She watches over
My slumbering heart

Holding it sweetly
Creating art

With starry love
Her eyes do shine

So lucky I am
To call her mine

For Gina.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Twisting by the Pool

Polyamory  \ˌpä-lē-ˈa-mə-rē\
The state or practice of having more than one open romantic relationship at a time
I wonder how many people would be happier if they were able to move freely from one relationship to another? Rather than having divorce after divorce, and homes broken into splintered camps for the sake of whatever nonsensical paradigm holds us fast, I wonder if being free to love would change the world? I'm pretty sure it would, since I know that it made a huge difference in MY life, although accepting that this was actually a real alternative was very difficult at first.  Let's be honest here, I mean how does this even seem like a possibility?  In a society so monogamous and enslaved to a paradigm where we consider our hearts property, it sounds wrong  to consider loving another if they make you happy. But it is a real choice.  The "And" rather than the "Or" when dealing with love...being able to honestly say "I love you" to more than just a single person and meaning it completely.  It's freeing, and I think that in this world of ever-failing marriages, having an alternative is a good thing. Holding someone close to you, but not smothering them or expecting them to change for you.  Letting them be who they are as you love them.

Finding what we need in others is damned nice.  Finding comfort, understanding, passion, creativity, or sometimes even just a hand to hold... these things we crave emotionally... it is wonderful and rewarding.  To have this with more than one person is truly amazing. Especially when it is in a Polyamorous situation rather than some back-alley thing - Openly, honestly, and completely above boards. And being Poly does not mean sex with everyone you see.  Quite the contrary, actually.  It's about the relationship more than anything else. It's about finding emotionally rewarding situations and being free and open enough to take advantage of them.  And it is most certainly not a new name for swinging.  It's about love, and caring.  It's about kindness and joy.  It's about listening and being heard. And it is SO wonderful. It is adding rather than replacing.  Realizing that it is possible, and wonderful, to love many is, itself, liberating, but being honest and open with all involved can be scary as hell, and has the potential to hurt no matter the intention.  It happens, and it gets dealt with, and we move on.  Those discussions are sometimes not for the weak of heart, but you really find out who you are.

As Harlan Ellison wrote: "Why does he tell us this?"  I tell you this so you understand.  I tell you this so my life can be open and free, without the need for excuses.  This is who I am.  I am not ashamed of it, I am not going to suddenly wake up tomorrow and be cured.  This is part of my wiring.  It has taken me a long time to not only accept this, but to even discover that this can be a very wonderful thing.  Something else I have learned is that there is plenty of love to go around. 



Something I didn't mention, but should talk about, is about how it is incredibly rewarding to be so trusted and loved in this way.  I will be the first to tell you that it most certainly is a considerable amount of work. More work than I have ever put into any relationship.  But it truly is worth it.  To feel this close, this cared about, and to be able to care for others so much, well...it's fantastic.  One of the emotional wonders of the human experience. 


Monday, September 5, 2011

Waffles with Chuck

     Plates clank in the air as the steaming coffee warms my lips.  I sit, watching her from across the room, chatting with the gentleman in front of her with grace and beauty, her head tipping back and forth, as she responded to his conversational advances.  She smiles that smile and my heart breaks into a sprint for just a beat or two. That smile.  The way she flips her hair to open her face up and expose the glowing skin to the daytime.  The gentleman showed his own smile to her, one well worn and toothy.  A smile that has charmed so many hearts over so long a life.  He reached out for her hand, and she took it with care, and heartfelt warmth.  He slowed a bit, grasped her hand in return, and I saw him melt some.

     The waitress returned, a butterfly to the flowers of their mugs, filling them with fresh, hot liquid.  They released their grasp, added cream and sweetener, and sipped delicately, smiles still firmly in place. They continued their conversation, both talking in turn, and listening intently to each other, interjecting words as they were needed.  I sat back, twirled my bowler on the chair next to me, and drank from my own cooling cup. My own server flitted by, refilling, and continuing on her way. I smiled at her, catching her eye and eliciting a smile. I laughed inside as I turned back to watch the kindness pour from that beautiful woman just a few tables away, her red hair spilling out from under her hat, her eyes bright as she conversed with a man twice her age.  She looked away for a moment, seemed to check some unseen clock and wiped her mouth with the napkin folded neatly in her lap.  They rose together, moved to greet one another, and embraced.  His hand moved from her shoulders, slowly down her back, coming to rest just over the top of her skirt. It moved with care and compassion, as her hands moved over his shoulders, criss-crossing as he leaned in to kiss her cheek.  They parted, their hands being the last contact point between them.  He took his seat as he watched her go, finishing his coffee and slowly wiping his lips. 

     I got up, dropped enough cash on the table to cover the bill and the tip, picked up my bowler, and crossed the room.  I snaked my way to his table, and paused over his shoulder. He smiled up at me, and spoke to me.
 "Nice hat," the old man said quietly.
"Thanks.  You played well last night"
"We did, thanks.  Something I can do for you, young man?"
"Oh.. no.  I saw her dancing last night with you.  She's beautiful"
"Red? Yeah.  She's something.  Heart of gold, too."
"I bet.  That was quite a smile."
"Are you kidding me?  It's a damn shame."
I started, feeling as though that was a strange thing to say. "Huh? Why?"
"Boy, that girl is in love."


Thursday, September 1, 2011


When the veil falls upon our weary eyes, all that remains is the shell that carried our soul through this lifetime, and memories of how we lived.  Some people live so boisterously that their impressions are laid upon the face of the earth itself, and others live so meekly that one has to investigate the nuances of the historic recorded to find even the smallest trace of their existence, often through their influence on other more noticeable events.  Somewhere in the middle lie the rest of us.

Strength is one of the many characteristics that we remember. Strength of character, strength of will, strength of personality, or the strength of our faith.  When things are difficult, and lives become serious challenges, it is our strength that finds us able to stand up and function, able to be there for others, or be the one others turn to in order to find inspiration for their own weary souls.  It carries us through the darkness and back out into the glorious sunlight when we can finally find a quiet corner and expose our weakness, through tears or writing or nervous habits.  It is our strength that allows us to brave those moments and see ourselves as we really are - Beautiful spirits traveling through a journey like no other.

I knew Joan only peripherally, though she had been a part of my family's life since I was a very young man.  I saw her casually at various holidays, birthday parties, and other milestone family events. I heard stories of her over the years, and I watched her children from afar.  As the twilight fell, I sat by her bedside and hopefully brought her some comfort before the sun finally set.  I spoke to her, as perhaps I should have so many years ago, but did not.  And I listened to her. The silence spoke volumes.  Even in so late an hour, her strength carried her beating heart into the night far beyond expectations of others. 

Beating the odds, succeeding where others expected failure, resisting.  These things indicate the strength of Joan's character. She was a strong woman, providing a home for her children and expecting more from them than perhaps they did of themselves. I wonder to myself what they will remember most of her after forgiveness and understanding fall upon their years. I wonder if they will recognize and appreciate her strength?

I offer you my heartfelt wishes that your memories are filled with gratitude and your hearts remember the lessons she taught. I am here, with you all, celebrating Joan's life, and being glad to have been in it no matter how small a part I played.  I hold your hands, to perhaps give you some strength, and to help you remember that she will always be a part of you.

Merry Meet
Merry Part
Merry Meet Again.                                                                        

Written for Joan Robillard and Family.  We laid her to rest as she wished today, honoring her faith and her memory. 
To all of her family, I DO offer my heart, my hand, and my shoulder.

Her Obituary