Poetry2ponder's Blog

“I wouldn’t mind” by Trevor Witt

I wouldn’t mind
Your sweat on me,
Your steamy body,
Dripping, exhausted, hot,
Overheated, overworked,
Like a broke down car,
I would go under your hood,
Feel around your engine,
And get you revved up again.

I don’t mind,
Getting greasy, dirty,
Oiled up, like a motor,
I need to keep my pistons moving,
Need to keep moving, up and down,
The curves of your road, hugging tight,
Holding on, during those turns,
So we don’t roll off the cliff.

I don’t mind
Laying with you,
In a field of grass,
On a sheet or a towel,
Beneath trees and sunlight,
A light sweat between us,
As we cuddle in the park.

I don’t mind,
If you don’t mind.

“I am a poem” by Trevor Witt

I should be napping-
But I am writing a poem.
Should be eating,
But I am writing a poem,
Should be dreaming,
But I am writing my dream,
Choreographing my lucidity,
Dancing with dramatic phrasing,
Falling down on insufficient diction,
My poor word choice, being a blunt sword,
I don’t die, but my ego is bruised.

I should be napping,
Should be looking for new jobs,
Should be making more money,
Should try programming again,
Should wake up to reality,
Poetry is not going to be my golden goose.

I should be sleeping,
But I have become a poem,
Phone and pen and notebook and guitar,
By my side, these friends are my instruments,
By which I convey my meaning,
Diving into the dark abyss,
Where I am nothing, except for the sounds,
The symbols and syllables, the rhythm,
The sometimes rhyming, sometimes scheming,
Mischievous, dark alley, black cat,
Hocus pocus, voodoo jazz.

I should be napping,
But I am a poem.

“I had to walk the dog” by Trevor Witt

I had to walk the dog.
It was seven thirty PM.
Thought I heard a gunshot.
He got scared.
I tried to tell him,
It would be okay.
It was distant.

I had to walk the dog.
Then another one.
He was scared.
Tried to run back inside.
I wouldn’t let him,
Holding onto his leash.
Then…
I gave in.
The poor kid was scared.

But I had to walk him.
So I went out later,
Carrying him around the corner,
To the comfort of dirt and plants,
Beyond the asphalt alley,
Beyond the concrete jungle sidewalk,
To the freedom of exploration.
He smelled other dogs’ urine amidst the bushes.
And he remembered who he was — a dog.

The little boy was scared,
Of loud noises, there was nothing he could do,
PTSD from yelling matches, sounds of shots,
Memories of bullies throwing small rocks,
Scared after reading about war,
Afraid it would come to him.

Then I told him,
You are Everything, my son,
You are me, and I will always be,
I will always be with you,
And we are the stars and the wind,
And the werewolves howling at the moon.

We are the Imagination of G-d,
Do not fear, dear child,
I am with you.

I had to walk with G-d.

“Luna” by Trevor Witt

Luna,
I love you to the moon,
Friendly, furry,
Curious and joyful,
You light up our hearts.
Thank you for your kisses.

“You have to be a Cubs fan” by Trevor Witt

You have to be a Cubs fan,

In life, optimism is key,
Believing you could win,
Once every hundred years.

Even if there is a 99% chance you will lose,
Your mindset is something you can always choose.
You can decide to have fun,
Be determined to smile,
Rest when the day is done,
But go that extra mile.

The game is not over until the last out,
In the bottom of the ninth, have no doubt,
Things can change in a few seconds,
The swing of the bat can bring change beckoning.

Work hard, until the very end,
The final inning is around the bend.
Every day, make sure to give it your all.
Be grateful you are able to play ball.

And when your final out should come,
Remember where you come from.

Home is always where you start,

Practice, practice, practice.
Play with grit and with heart.

Win or lose, the Cubs are a lovable team,
Win or lose, you deserve to follow your dream.

“The guilt (To crawl)” by Trevor Witt

The guilt, for no reason, comes easily,
It’s my fault, and I am a failure,
I don’t know how to fix it,
To be less oblivious, to be less of a nudge,
To be less helpful, less clingy,
I am like my mother – feeling sad,
Sorry for trying to assist,
It doesn’t make sense,
But I also feel like my dad,
Like I can’t be fixed,
There is something inherently wrong,
With me,
With me, I feel like I am so fucked up,
But I am human,
And I am who I am,
And that is okay.

And I am putting words to this craziness –
That maybe everyone feels,
Or maybe it’s only me,
And I should not speak for my parents.

I want to be better,
But I will never be perfect,
The struggle is ongoing,
Between unrealistic perfectionism,
And realistic, pessimistic optimism.

I can learn,
I learned to crawl.
I can learn again.

“A burrito hug” by Trevor Witt

I saw a girl in the park today
Who looked just like you from behind,
I couldn’t bear to see her face,
Walked a ways away,
If it was you, I did not want to know,
I am moving forward, not stopping,
Never looking back, not since you left,
After I moved with you four times,
For more than five years, we lived together —
A lifetime ago, when I was still a boy —
Now that naive heart is dead,
Crushed under the weight of abandonment,
Shriveled like a raisin,
Not fit for joyous wine.

I am a shadow of an echo of myself,
But maybe that’s all I could be
When attached to you,
I was always by your side,
Never wanted to leave.

Now I am a footprint in the sand,
And you are riding waves,
While the water washes me away.

And I cried seeing that girl in the park
With her dog and her phone,
Happy like you in the breeze,
And I grew angry – bitter, like burnt coffee –

And I ate my burrito,
For lunch and dinner, at 5:30,
After my 10:30 cookie breakfast,
And I thought of carne asada burritos with you,
And grief burritos at Chipotle,
And it was delicious like San Diego,
And I was angry, and happy, and sad,
All at once, and that burrito felt like a hug,

And now I am crying,
And I got salsa in my eye,
Wiping away my tears,
But I find it funny,
And I start laughing
Because it doesn’t hurt as bad as it did that day,

It feels good to cry,
Especially after a burrito hug.