Saturday, May 30, 2009

From A Mountain Top

I had a mind to write a poem this morning. I found a photo of Corrine that I like. In it she's posing, wide-eyed, broad-smile, a little bit of mischief there.

I was hit with a lightening bolt of inspiration, I suppose. But then, when it came down to it, I found the words wanting. The language left me. And so much as it always does, inspiration evaporated.

It was to be something about my feelings for Corrine, of course. I am unashamedly and unabashedly, sickly-sweetly in love with her. I make no apologies about wearing my feelings for her on my sleeve. And lapel. And chest, arms, legs.

Which is peculiar, considering how these types of public displays used to be so stomach-churning for me. To hear someone talk about another with passion was embarrassing. There was a sort of desperation in it, like they were trying just a little too hard to justify the love, and therefore perhaps it was their way of projecting. That the reality of their relationship was quite the opposite of what was being said.

The truth is, I was inwardly jealous of that level of exorbitant love. I scoffed outwardly. I told myself that no one could realistically feel that much about a person without shining it on just a little.

Just as men are not to cry in public, there was this unwritten rule about romantic utterances.

I don't believe that anymore. It was an attitude I adopted somewhere in my early 20s and deepened every year until it was just part of my mental fabric. Love, but love quietly. Together, alone, but not in front of people.

My poem this morning was to be about my emergence out of this.

How a single person can affect you in such a way that it shakes up your foundation. Tears down walls, perceptions, breaks through and sheds light. Forgotten light.

I'm no poet though, as much as I'd like to be. Those fellows can say in 15 words what it takes 1,000 for me. The good poets can capture the feeling like a photographer freezes a moment, yet seem to speak volumes.

I'm a novelist. Therefore, I MUST speak in volumes and hope that somewhere in the rambling bramble of my thoughts one can spot my MESSAGE.

Which is simple: I love Corrine.

For lots of reasons. Some I've said here in my blog, many I have not. But probably the biggest reason of all is for teaching me that love should be exclaimed often, and loudly, vociferously, without apologies and certainly with passion and conviction.

Because if you feel it, but are afraid that people will hear you, then you shouldn't be allowed to feel it at all.


  1. My love...
    I have told you, you must take a risk to get a reward...YOU ARE MINE!!

    I shout here, and at the top of Streaked...
    Father of 6, writer of novels, lover of one, man of greatness.
    You are mine, and I am yours.

  2. I wandered over from Mrs. 4444's place and am so glad that I did. I'll be back.

  3. Oh my... I read Corrine's comment. You 2 need to get a room!!!

  4. "If you feel it, and are afraid to say it for people may hear shouldn't be allowed to feel it at all."

  5. A room? Had she said she wanted to tear my clothes off and do it right here on my keyboard, then maybe ....

    ... or not

  6. I'm happy for you and for Corrine. I'm guessing the six kids have had an effect on that love as well; did you ever think your heart could swell more than when you look at your family? It's awesome.

    I must say, the poem you left on my blog today was stellar, so you ARE a poet.

    Your comments about poets and how they can say so much reminded me of a book that I started reading this weekend and have loving very much. Maybe it's because I just finished reading a LAME book and THEN picked up All Over but the Shoutin' by Rick Bragg, but wow; this guy can write. Each PARAGRAPH speaks volumes to me. If you've read it, I'd be interested in your opinion. If you haven't, check it out.

  7. I thought I made it clear that you aren't supposed to post on the weekends - I only do the blog reading thing during the week.

    However, since you insisted, I think your love is terrific, no matter how loud and sloppy. You guys deserve it!

  8. That last sentence says it all. Beautiful post for your beloved!