Friday, February 12, 2010

Love is in the air and there's a spring in my step!

My husband Anthony doing the most romantic thing in the world: building me a house.
In one of my favorite movies, Elf, Will Farrell runs around yelling, "I'm in love, I'm in love, and I don't care who knows it!"

That is how I feel about my husband.

I love to write love poetry about him and for him, but I am not usually happy with how it turns out.

It seems like, unless you're the person in love, nobody else really wants to read too much love poetry about someone else's relationship. It's like watching the high schoolers I teach make out in the hallway. It's revolting, and it makes you want to hit them or break them up with a firehose.

All that being said, my mother asked if I would post a love poem for Valentines Day, so here's one of mine that I was pretty happy with.

I submitted this poem to a local poetry competition put on by the writers association here in the Kern Valley. They didn't really give me any feedback at all, except to tell me that I hadn't won and to return it to me.

I don't think they cared for my style too much. The poems that did win the contest were all done in a very Romantic Period style, which is NOT my thing at all. It's very beautiful, don't get me wrong, but I like poems with just a little bite to them. So here is my version of a love poem.

Bad Trade (For Anthony)

Why do you take care of me?
Why do you want to spend time with me?
I am not always graceful, or always witty.
I am not tall or slender, and my hair is not always so well-done.
There are times when I am very selfish.
I have mountains to climb and countries to visit, and worlds to conquer and people to meet and dreams to chase and stages to act on and books to write and songs to sing and things to paint and—(really, I could go on and on)---
Yet, you know all this.
And you say, “fit me in wherever you can.”
And you lavish me with time and gifts, and concern for my well-being.
And you say, “this, this time you spend with me, is enough. I just want you to be happy.”
And I believe you--
But I am warning you- it’s a bad trade.


  1. I think you're too hard on yourself.

    Love, Your mother.

  2. I think that poem was good..I am not a writer myself (except when my children were young i used to write stories just for them)..but i do believe it is very hard to get things published, there was an elderly man at our church some years ago..he used to write & try to get his works published from a very early age..he finally managed it at 76 !!..but he had lots of fun telling stories to his own children, and grandchildren..dont giev up Sandre Rose.