we loved, we were parted.
But I took something of her with me.
And she kept something of me with her.
Because our Love is song
a beautiful song, unspoiled by lyrics
and though distance separates us
my heart sings that song constantly
Our Love is a poem
a beautiful poem unruined by words
and though time has parted us
her soul recites that poem daily
You see, a song is not the music
a brings about a certain feeling
but a certain feeling that brings about the music
A poem is not the words that gave birth to an emotion
but the emotion out of which the words grew
Distance is but a grain of sand
upon the shores of space
time is only a finger on the hand of duration
And Love is a bridge that traverses the universe
from one end to the other
joining all together
from the book: Some Gentle Moving Thing
by james c. floyd jr.
Once upon a time there was a frog that changed into a handsome prince when kissed by a beautiful princess with an hourglass shape and a three-hundred dollar weave. The beautiful princess fell madly in love with the handsome prince, but here our story only begins. You see she (the beautiful princess) was in love with him (the kissed-frog-turned-handsome-prince), but he was still very much inclined toward frogs. Whenever they made love he always insisted it be in the royal bathtub, and afterward he would just light up a smoke, lean back and go, “Ribbit ribbit ribbit.” This made the beautiful princess very sad.
So she went to the royal alchemist and ordered him to change her into a frog so the handsome prince would pay more attention to her. The royal alchemist went to a shelf, took several jars of powder, mixed them together, poured some Gator Aid and some Mountain Dew on top, stirred it up, popped it in a microwave on high for three minutes, and gave it to her to drink. It smelled like a five day old Bick Mack that had been hidden under a funky armpit too long. She held her nose and gulped it down. As she swooned, she heard the alchemist say, “Who dat say who dat when I say who dat?” Then she farted and changed into a large green frog. The large green frog said, “Ribbit ribbit ribit…ribbit rib…bit,” which is frog for, “Gee I didn’t think you could do it. Thanks. Got’ta go now. See ya.” And she hurried off to meet the handsome prince and tell him the good news.
But as she hopped along the palace corridor the court jester caught her, and gained some points with the palace cook, by allowing the palace cook to gain some points with the king, by serving the king’s favorite dish: fried frog legs with collard greens hot water cornbread, and French fries on the side.
But our story doesn’t end here. One evening, in the woods down by the royal pond, the queen cornered the handsome prince and said, “Hey babe let’s hook up.” He told her he’d rather be with a frog. And she had him committed to Middle Tennessee Mental Health Psychiatric Hospital for an indefinite period of time.
And the moral of this story is: WHEN IT COMES TO LOVE, JUST BE YOURSELF.
here we’ll lie, equal
God does not consider the
price of a tombstone
Maternal little stirrings
deep within the core
cause mothers’hearts to swell
With pride for the ludicrous
avatars they bore
Love hate right wrong
stem from an illusion
beneith whose surface
their roots entwine
It’s a reasonable conclusion
in human nature’s way
all animals that kill only for food
are savage beast of prey
Grandfather lay on his bed; a strong sturdy bed. But soon it will be stored in the attic or donated to the Salvation Army.
Grandfather was once strong and sturdy like the bed, but now…a week frail casualty of time in the last stage of life whose loved ones have come to…gather ’round: Some like vultures some like doves, some birds are birds of prey when it’s the about-to-die they hover above.
When grandfather was a little boy he found a seed inside a rock that had cracked open. He planted that seed in a special secret place. And as he did so he knew with all the wonder and imagination of his fallow youth that one day he would come back to that special place, and there would be growing a beautiful golden tree, a magic tree, with soft downy feathers for leaves, and sparkling crystal fruit hanging low just waiting to be picked; each capable of making a wish come true.
But as time passed the seed was forgotten. And the tree was pushed further and further behind other, more important things. Seasons revolved spinning warm summer suns that bathed the place where the seed had been planted, and sweet spring showers that fed the sapling as it grew. And the little boy became young man, adult, middle aged, grandfather.
Now, as winter’s snow overlays, he remembers! And that’s all it takes to be there, in that special place, at the tree. The old bed squeaks as grandfather reaches out, touches a fruit, and the little boy plucks it.
One of the birds chirp….They all chirp.
gap-tooth Jacks grin
at golden teardrops that dance
in crisp cool breeze