Life Through The Eyes of Stacy

Many think that a poem isn't a poem unless it's set to rhyme. I will tell you different.. but all that in another time. I am full of words, some big and small. Some are tiny syllables and some are mighty tall. It is what I'm trying to say and not always what I said.... So read carefully and I'll effect your very head. The world is full of love, hope and pain, but at the sun's goodnight when all that falls is rain we must reach within and find the places where words and music fill the empty and lonely spaces. Words are gifts, rhymed or not... and in the silence of truth they are all that is a good, life's proof.

I can see now in the ugly and honest light of day that I was never in love with him. Or am I? I do love him,  yes...like a friend...I suppose. I Love him, sure... Like an abused puppy who loves a man because he loves her~ because I know somewhere deep inside that someone as useless as me should take hold of whatever love I can get. ....because I truly feel too ugly inside and out to deserve love. Pull the shades, blacken out the light. Damn it, I cannot stand the sunlight... He would sit here in the dark with me as long as I like but urge me into the light eventually. But my breath does not hitch and catch at his sight nor does my heart or stomach or toes feel anything that love poems romanticize about. Is it him?  Is it  possible that he is simply but very sadly not the one ? Or is is me? Me.... Am I too broken to put together enough of myself to love another human being? Me,  as selfish as the wind doing what it might and too damaged to kno...

I'm afraid to do well, to write a masterpiece because if I do~ by chance or luck~ where will it end? Next I'd be expected another and another and more until so many words will be pulsating in my head. I wonder often, what would come of me? If I were a labeled a poet or a writer of any kind would I change? Already I try  harder, dig deeper for something wise that doesn't belong to my brain. Being me,  I write about love, death, beauty of the world and angst. What more can I borrow from this world... this tiny world that I've comforted around myself. I guess I'll have to venture out... see the sights and taste the cuisines to ever give more. Until that bravery comes to me I'll write about what's in my little ole head  and hope it gives you or even myself, a feeling of familiarity... of hope. Copyright © 2013 Stacy J. French~Roosa

I adore you from afar.... Like a tree overseeing the ocean, I watch you wave and roll away. I remember your words... Like pictures, they take a place in my memory book. I turn through the pages. I see your face in those snapshots but time is melting away the details of your face and even real in~hand pictures can't put back what is lost. What are the last words you spoke? To me? What was the last thought that came to your mind? Did you know it was over? I didn't get to say goodbye. ....I will never say those words or hear them from you.   Copyright © 2013 Stacy J. French~Roosa

Imagine, after a life of not being understood~ 20 plus years of feeling only halfheartedly loved you finally meet your best friend. She was always there but it took your own growth and seeing the other side of what she had endured to realize she was the friend you needed. You talked to her about everything and she shared her own worst fears and heartache along with her happiness. Then one day the call came~ In one moment your best friend is gone. She's breathed her last "I love you"~ Words you never got to hear. You wonder how long  she laid there dying alone. Alone without anyone. That haunts you more than anything. You buried her in her most favorite dress. Her beauty transcended even death's grasp. As you watched them close her casket she was all at once gone... And so went your faith, your belief that loving her would keep her healthy and that being a good person would bring long lives to all you love. Gone was her smile, her heart a...

All the love songs speak of a Love  that is created in Heaven with more distance than the stars and strength of the sun shining. The music, the words~  The emotions incited sway and dance  with such timed and controlled rhythm. It's so exciting and perfect there  in that song world with no room for reality. I get caught up in the words.  I find myself daydreaming  about that Love that songwriters feed us... Over and over they play until they no longer mean anything. If I love you it may not be a Love story written in books or caught in the melody of a song,  but I love you with all of me... and I abandon all hope of living without you. ...Still, the thought occurs to me~ Love is only as grand  or as boring  as we make it... I could show you more the love that is trapped in my heart for you. I could hold your hand more, linger in our kiss longer and stare into your eyes  until those damn love songs are not...