The Day After Interval

I thought I’d wake up feeling like I hit a brick wall at 100mph, especially since I didn’t hurt after getting up from blogging yesterday.  I only felt like I ran into at a slow run, but it had nothing to do with the interval training.  I finished Lyrics By Sting last night and as I was reading the last few sets of lyrics, I had some phrases turning in my head.  As soon as I put the book down, I picked up pen and paper and started writing with those phrases in mind.  I was brushing my teeth before 1am and another phrase hit me, so I came back out to my chair and made some edits.  I should note that I had edited quite a bit before attempting to go to bed.  But, this one was stuck in my head and I knew I wouldn’t get to sleep without getting it out or I’d forget by morning.

Here is a draft of it.


One day I woke to find

Him moping at my desk.

I ask, “What is wrong?”

Unprepared for his response.

He found my well-crafted memories of you.

My thoughts of you.

My love for you.

My mourning of you.

Some people have pictures.

Some people have letters.

Some people keep trinkets.

Memories are all I have of you.

Jealous of the depth of feeling,

The imprint left on my heart,

He feared I’d walk out on him

If ever I found you again.

He did not understand

I locked you away for a purpose

With those memories

And you posed no threat.

Forever after you were between us

As he worked overtime only to prove

He was ruled by his fears

And he could never hold a candle to you.

In the end he rued the day

He unearthed my memories

Reminding me of my worth,

That I deserved better.

Some people have pictures.

Some people keep trinkets.

But all I have is the result of my craft.

All I have are these memories of you.

Sorry, I can’t figure out how to make my stanzas single spaced.  I’ll figure it one day.  Anyway, that was my foray back in my poetry after years of lack of inspiration.  As good as I was feeling when I was blogging yesterday, I felt even better after I wrote that poem. Yes, it’s simplistic.  Some of mine are and it was fitting as the men in the poem were simple.  Not stupid simple.

I’ve done my No Excuses Work Out (NEWO) for today, Sting is playing on my iTunes, laundry is going, and I have an hour and half before I need to get on stream to deejay.  Do I take a stab at maybe another poem?  Work on my book?  Or do dishes?  Ah, dishes…