Sunday, November 4, 2007

Bliss and/or Pain. My views on Amour

Amour (love between man and woman) has been experienced by most of us. It can be total bliss, making our lives wonderful. Or if unrequited it can be like an incurable disease, a powerful deep pain that won’t go away. It can last for a few months, a few years, or for a lifetime. This love is what novels such as Romeo and Juliet are written about. Most of us at one time or other have experienced this kind of love. This tearing hurt must be let out or the disease will destroy peace of mind and body. Writing about it can ease the pain. This is why love poems are written. (many are put to country songs. LOL) The following are some that I wrote at various times in my life.

Growing Love

My love for you has grown
from a sudden revealing glance;
A touch of eyes .. into a magical force
Which transcends deep through the inner most of me.

My love for you has grown
from an abstract indefinalbe desire.
An inate reflex .. Into an universal regard
that embraces all livlng matter In the Universe.
~~~~
(C) by Margaret Arvanitis
If you pass this on please give me credit.

Softly in Your Mind

Put me softly in your mind
And keep me there the while.
When troubles come, think of me
I will make you smile.

Take me when your dream at night
I’ll chase your fears away.
Oh put me softly in your mind
And use my love today.
~~~~
(C) by Margaret Arvanitis
If you pass this on please give me credit.

Reality

What is reality?
What is dream?
What happens when
the dream becomes
stronger than reality?
Does the dream than
Become real?
And reality becomes
the dream
Soon to fade away.

~~~~
(C) by Margaret Arvanitis
If you pass this on please give me credit.

Home

Home

Home is ------
Your sweet aura surrounding me;
The nearness of you,
Whether in thought
or physical nearness.
A soft gentle feeling of comfort
and protective closeness.
With you I am home.
~~~~~

(C) by Margaret Arvanitis
If you pass this on please give me credit.

Cupid’s Attack

Man of steel with his shield held high.
Nothing will penetrate his armor.
Yet he sends his arrows right and left.
Each one satuated with a love potion
That consumes body and soul
Leaving my armor melted and useless.
I’m open again to his attack. Oh God,
Let the wounds be healed this time
With the sweet salve of true love
Instead of the bitterness of hate.
~~~~~

(C) by Margaret Arvanitis
If you pass this on please give me credit.

Bless this Mess

We all have our down times and even though I was blessed with my
children, life didn't always go the way I dreamed it would. I had this
sign hanging on my wall and decided to write about it, predicting a
happy ending. : )

(The first ten years of marriage)

The sink is full of dishes
My time is slipping by
the telephone is ringing
And the baby starts to cry.
My neighbor wants to visit.
I must be nice, I guess.
All I have time to say is:
Three little words; Bless this Mess.

(The second ten years)

The car is running poorly
I'll have to take it in
My check book doesn't add up
I'm in the red again.
The bills are piling upward.
Sissie demands that party dress.
I look up, softly sigh and say
Three little words; bless this mess!

(The next 10 years)

The house is dark and quiet
And I'm setting here in tears
My husband's found a younger one
To ease his aging fears.
I reach into my soul for comfort
Longing for a sweet caress.
The only prayer I can utter is
Three little words, bless this mess!

(the final years)

The divorce was fast and easy
My flight is coming in
And waiting for me with sweet love
Is a very special friend.
My career is starting nicely.
I'm wearing a designer dress
I smile and say thank you, Lord.
You have finally blessed this mess.
-----

(C)1971 by Margaret C. Arvanitis
Please give credit if you pass this on.

Tomorrow

Children grow up and leave the nest. And the mother bird must cry.


Is it tomorrow yet?
You'd ask me each day
"No little one, it isn't"
I'd laughingly say
And I'd feel quite content
And safe all the same
Because it was a known fact
That tomorrow never came.

When your birthday or Christmas
Was drawing so near
You'd ask me "How soon?"
And I'd say, "Tomorrow, dear."
Then when the day came
I'd smile when you'd say
"What happen to tomorrow
When now is today?"

But one day I awoke
And found that you'd grown.
you were leaving me now
For a world of your own.
The laughter I once knew
turned suddenly to fear
As I realized at last
My tomorrow was now here.
-----

(C)1981 by Margaret C. Arvanitis
Please give credit if you pass this on.

Diversion

With five children there was always cleaning and cooking that had to be done. I would much rather sit and wach my childlren and their friends at play. This was written in protest.

Will you childlren go somewhere else to play.
Away from sight and sound.
I simply must get this house work done today.
It's not that I don't want you around,

But everytime my eyes catch sight of you
I stop and watch a while.
And listen to your words of wisdom,
And admire the way you talk and smile.

Bits of human flesh running every where
"I can run faster than you"
Legs and arms swing out like foals
Running free beneath skies of blue.

Your laughter and noise, beckon me.
You are the tranquilizer for silly fears.
I drink in renewed hope and know
This world will continue for many years.

So Little prophets in need of soap,
Go get in some other mother's way.
There you can run and play your childish games.
I simply must get this housework done today.
-----

(C)1965 by Margaret C. Arvanitis
Please give credit if you pass this on.

Little Boy in White

I was blessed with healthy children. My third son, John D. did break his leg when falling from his bike. While waiting for the doctor to set his leg I saw other children
with more serious illnesses and I jotted down this prayer.

Let me see
Blue jeans and the sight
Of active boys -- not
A little boy in white.

Let me see
The green of out-of-doors,
Trees and grass -- not
White corridors.

Let me see
The grey of dirt and fun,
Not great white lights
to replace the sun.

Let me see
You pink in running flight
Back to health --
Not a little boy in white.

-----

(C)1971 by Margaret C. Arvanitis
Please give credit if you pass this on.

The Climbing Tree

This was written for Patti, the youngest, whose only place to get away from her
teasing brothers and sister was in Aunt Mable's big elm tree next door.


When I'm in the climbing tree
I seem to disappear
When Mom calls me to come in
I pretend I do not hear.

When she comes to find me
She looks both high and low
Until I shout with laughter
When she says, "Where did you go?"

-----

(C)1965 by Margaret C. Arvanitis
Please give credit if you pass this on.

Nick at Twelve

The middle child probably has the hardest time growing up, trying to be his own person with those older to boss him and those younger to tease him. This was written for Nick, my middle child.


There is love somewhere
Beneath the twelve year old
silliness--
The uncouth noises, the egotism
camouflaging the terrible
Self consciences.

And when he's alone it comes out.
Not for his mother
Who at the end of a frustrating day
Forgets for a moment all about love.

Nor for his father
Whose main concern is to buid his son's
Character

His love comes out like a blanket
Covering the old grey cat.
Who demands nothing from him
Except to be petted and
relieved of its winter's coat.
-----

(C)1971 by Margaret C. Arvanitis
Please give credit if you pass this on.

A Young Girl's Dreams

This I wrote for Mary Katherine
as she moped around over her first boyfriend.

She dreams of love;
Tender looks and constant smiles.
She dreams of laughter,
Sweet caress and lover's wiles.

These moonlight kisses
Are essence of love, not desire.
She and her dreams are young
Yet unlit by nature's fire.
-----

(C)1965 by Margaret C. Arvanitis
Please give credit if you pass this on.

Mother's Night OFF

This poem was published in the Omaha World Herald in January of 1965.
As a mother of five children under ten I needed and took a week end break. But this mother couldn't stand to be away from her brood for long.

Ah -- such quietness.
I revel in this strange peace.
For tomorrow turmoil will fall.
Alone this moment
My mind can roam at will
without interruption or call
For a mother's hand
To sooth a catastrophe
Or a mother's kiss to wipe away a tear.
Now I rest my mind,
But only for this evening.
Strange peace -- I need my turmoil near.
~~~~

(C 1965.)
by Margaret C. Arvanitis
Please give credit if you pass this on.