If We Were Having Coffee

A huge thank you to Willow for asking me to coffee today. Friday’s haiku about coffee and cookies give her the perfect opportunity to invite me to try her weekly post titled, “If We Were Having Coffee”. I’ve often found her poetry challenging my reality, as she often writes about the tough stuff life can dish out, and I thank her for it. Willow’s lovely photos over coffee express her day to day travels in a charming way, and prove how blessed she truly is to enjoy a full life, so stop by and say HI soon.

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The photo that brought us here

I’m not entirely sure how this works, but I believe I hand out coffee and cake, while you listen to me ramble on about my world a bit. You have no idea how much anxiety I have just thinking about talking about myself. We should start with conversing over my anxiety, but this isn’t a therapy session. Well, actually, isn’t coffee with friends sorta like that? I mean, don’t we normally end up offering each other advice over a cup of coffee? Only problem is that I prefer to be the one giving the advice. I pride myself on how well I deflect. Okay, I’m just digging myself a hole here, so let’s get started.

If we were having coffee: I’d have cleaned my kitchen, if this was our first visit together at my place, and I’d have probably made a brown sugar coffee cake with bing cherries. Since we’re friends you have this amazing ability to go on and on about how lovely my chickens are placed about the room, how great the coffee smells and how delicious the cake looks, which is all so stickin’ cute of you. I’ll explain that chickens and pitchers remind me of home, my parents and my great grandmother, Elsie, so I keep them here so I feel a little closer to home.

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I’ll turn sixteen shades of red, while sitting through your praises, I’ll try and thank you as quickly as possible and turn the subject to you with a comment like, ” Wait, didn’t you go to the doctor yesterday? Tell me how that went…”

If we were having coffee: I’d offer plenty of creamers, sugars and milk.You’d tell me I was tough for drinking it black and I’d tell you not really. Taking my coffee black is all I know. My grandparents drank, and still do drink, their coffee black, as does my father, so I didn’t see a world with creamer until I was in my twenties. I wanted to be part of the conversations the adults had growing up, so I asked for coffee when it was being offered and took it as it was served. Figuring I was so much like them that I would like the flavor as is, and I do. The red Folgers can was the coffee can I grew up seeing. I love seeing that can of coffee today, even if I’ve moved on to other brands.

If we were having coffee:
You’d ask me how my writing was going and I’d brush it off. Sayin’ oh pretty good. You’d have to be the friend to push me through that comment and expect more in return, if you really wanted to know. I know you’re the friend who does want to hear, so I offer a bit more. I’m having some trouble with a few characters and even more of an issue with expressing myself. Explaining also, that I have no time to focus on what I need to get done. Writing becomes a hobby during the school year and I miss it terribly. Boo hoo…

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Pretend Audrey Tear

If we were having coffee: I’d show you a few pictures that I took and would like to use, but probably won’t, as the lighting was terrible and the background unforgiving. However, it is such a cool place to visit here in Houston. This is Discovery Green and the sculptor, Jorge Marin, has an exhibit currently gracing our grounds and it truly is exceptional work. Click on his name if you’d like additional information.
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If we were having coffee:
I’d offer that Dad was doing really well with his chemo treatments. The doctors fixed his allergic reaction to the medicine beforehand, so this month’s appointment went well. He seems to be in good spirits, too. I’m so proud of my dad. My sisters went with him and kept him company for two days during his second round of medicine. I should have been there, too. Only makes sense that I would be, as I’m the oldest daughter. I have loads of guilt about that…I struggle with being so far away from them. I don’t suppose that’ll ever get any easier to deal with, so let’s change the subject.

If we were having coffee:
I’d say church was nice this morning. I served through the service, but I don’t mind. I’ll catch the video online later. Some mornings I find fellowship with other woman more important than sitting through service. Our conversations can so easily turn from pleasantries to important life discussions quickly. I’ve become more intuitive through the years and grasp onto those moments when I can. I truly do find such peace in helping women and more than anything offering my ear as a listening tool is where I’m best suited.

If we were having coffee:
I’d offer you a ride along today, as I have plans downtown. Here’s hoping today is a better picture taking day.

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Houston, Texas

If we were having coffee: I would ask you if you would like another cuppa, or another cake. If we were having Coffee Original idea from http://parttimemonster.wordpress.com/

Discovery

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Anticipating success,
I’d bring you here,
Sit you down,
Then ask you to relax.
Calmly,
I’d teach,
Your hand,
How to be,
Near me.
Inhaling,
Slowly guiding,
Finger tips,
Towards the place,
I’ve needed,
You to respond to,
And grown tired of,
Waiting for…
Exhaling,
At your touch,
As your fingers,
Slowly weave,
With mine.
Sighing,
Allowing you,
To explore,
My warmth,
By finally,
Holding hands.

Next Time

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Simple poetry,
My prayer, floating free,
Shall work harder,
And stand well enough,
In hopes,
To receive you,
Next time…

A huge thank you to my blogging loyals today, yesterday and tomorrow. Y’all truly make my day with your consistent support. I couldn’t write poetry without you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!

I appreciate your understanding, if you haven’t seen me around your blog. Life has been a bit out of sorts. Look for me soon. I love y’all!

Whisper Into My Ear

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My
Darling,
A magical
Offering of
Attentiveness
My delectation
Even for a fantasy
September’s ending
Or is it just beginning
Wrapped here with you
Trusting in your feathers
Chest against soft breasts
Leaning for conversation
Whispering into my ears
About peace and worry
Relating, so perfectly
Our reactions blush
Soft fleshy quiver
Your smile sighs
Lips closer still
Landing upon
Fairest skin
Delicately
Kissing
A red
Ear

Undesirable Request

Silence is the result of what you’ve requested
Requested and desired are two different directions
Directions are explicit commands I submit to freely
Freely is how I materialize for you in your dreams
Dreams are the light during my darkest time
Time is all I’ve ever asked for, bashfully
Bashfully is the only way I know how
How is the question that will continue a circle
Circle is the shape for the ring of promise
Promise is the agreement of pinky fingers
Fingers grasp tightly, an act of true love
Love rarely survives the quiescient sound of being dismissed
Dismissed hearts will never answer to silence
*****
I enjoyed trying this style originally found on Benjamin’s blog: The Breakdown of Taboo – Leftovers. Thank you, Benjamin, for the permission to give this poetic form a try.

Real Quick

I’m an intelligent woman. I haven’t a degree in Information Technology, nor do I want one, but I have received an honorary degree from Cyberspace this past year. Okay, that’s a lie. Bold faced lie, but I should have received one. I’m pretty impressed with my abilities to rock some of this ITGeek stuff all by myself. (Yes, I made up a name. I like the name. Geek’s are awesome.) *flexing her muscles* I’m currently swooning over those with a bit more IT ability than I. ITGeekDates.net may not be a website yet, but I’m willing to create it. No, I’m not. Another lie. Worse than the last one. Can you imagine the drinking involved if I tried to do that? Seriously…

I just want to be able to manage this website, I so eagerly pay for each year, without becoming a complete and utter drunk. Seriously, I just want to write. I don’t want to sit here for days (okay maybe hours, probably minutes, before beginning this post) trying to figure out why WordPress is attaching any ol’ picture it wants onto my poem and shooting it on over to my Google+ profile. Honestly, it’s been about two hours. Sad, I know. Miserably, challenged in a few areas. This should and sounds like an easy fix.

Now, as much as I enjoyed receiving the Miracle Blogger Award, somehow it doesn’t send the right message when attached to a lost love poem. Ahhhh!!!! I don’t want white or gray hairs on my head and I’ve gotten a few by clicking buttons this evening.

I have this pain in my right temple and tequila isn’t helping it one bit. Anyway, if you don’t hear from me tomorrow it’s because I’ve passed out on my laptop, my phone or on my desk in front of the Apple. Don’t laugh if the lime juice has attached the lime slice to my cheek. Kindly, shake my shoulder and move along. Thanks.

Gotta run, my glass is empty and I’m headed back to the WordPress Help Center. I cannot promise that I won’t start hitting on people, if I don’t get this figured out soon. 🙂

 

Your Turtles

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“Well, I think you’re brave, Dear.”

“We’ve been through this before, Audrey, I’m always brave.”

“Then why are you denying me eye contact? It seems to me that you’re nervous.”

“I’m not nervous!”

“You look nervous, as you fling that mud through the air, you know.”

“Yes, well, that could be because you keep bringing up tomorrow, Ma’am,” he replies, while standing up.

“Calling me names won’t help you sort your mind. What are you doing digging in the mud, anyway? ”

“Would you like a pie in the face,” he threatens, as mud goes flying through the air. Landing near her feet.

“I think you’re worried about a pie in your face, quite frankly,” she yelps, while she dances over two and three steps.

“I am not! What I’m doing is fishing, you see…”

“Yes, you are, Mister. Fishing? Umm, that’s mud. Just mud. Only mud.”

“Fix it!”

“I can’t fix it. This moment was meant to be, I believe.”

“What if I mess up horridly?”

“What if you do? It won’t change a thing. I’ll still be here, Darling.”

“Why?”

“Well, because I want to be, and you were here supporting me when no one else was, probably, so that makes us…us. You haven’t missed a single moment of mine. How many horrid moments did you encourage me through, Sir?”

“I can’t think of one, actually. No such moments for you.”

“There’s been plenty, ya Goof. Move over, please. What kind of fish are we looking for in here?” She questions, as her hands begin digging.

“Turtles.”

“Turtles?”

“Turtles…”

“…if you’re looking for turtles, then I’m looking for turtles.”

“There won’t be any turtles, I fear.”

“There will always be turtles…”