Tag Archives: relationships

Desert Seven

Israel, born Jacob, lived in desert heat,
Where at the well he and Rachel did meet.
I sit in sauna heat, thoughts turned to him.
Surely his heart filled with vigor and vim,
As he bargained for Rachel as his bride;
Seven years work, then she'd be at his side.
Fast-forward to appointed wedding day,
Israel finds out too late: he was betrayed.
Leah now his wife; Laban struck new deal:
Another seven for Rachel's hand for real.
Israel now juggles wife and idea:
Courting Rachel while married to Leah.
The solution for Israel was simplex;
The execution by hearts made complex.

Copyright ©️ 2024 H.K. Longmore

Retraction

A simple question asked,
Not a complicated answer,
But with distance now tasked,
He'd rather die slowly of cancer.
Emotional and physical withdrawal,
With no opportunity to discuss,
He'd rather chaw on uncooked chawal
Than watch spoken words repercuss.
Copyright ©️ 2024 H.K. Longmore

Not In

"Are you doing okay?" she asked with caring eyes.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I gave the oft repeated lies.
It was neither the place nor time,
To get into my sorrow, to make saline rivers sublime.
I'll tell the truth, should she again ask, 
When we're homeward bound.
I'll tell her of how sometimes, behind my mask,
I feel I don't belong, I shouldn't be around.
Or perchance I'll let her choose:
Does she want the strong façade
Or the vulnerable truths?
The tender heart, or full bravade?
I won't say something she uttered was the trigger.
But she didn't ask, so I'll stand by my rigor.

Copyright ©️ 2024 H.K. Longmore

Video

Healing From Dismissive Avoidant Future Faking

Someone near and dear has been going through the process of healing after a breakup with a dismissive avoidant, and shared this with me (after I shared other videos of this YouTube-r with her). Just in case any of you might benefit from this video, I’m reposting it here.

Dismissive Avoidant Future Faking

Vacant Echoes

Adductors: his vacant stare sees right past
But sees just short of bench where sits some lass
As she works her core, so through to her core
His eyes pierce as some demigod of lore.
Intrigued, she wonders what his eyes might see, 
But his eyes see nothing to bring him vim,
Just another human at the same gym.
Drenched in pensive fluid: wooden bench's salt sea;
Patiently replaying past episodes,
His focus lost in the past—Heaven's odes—
Sees another young woman in his mind:
Dark hair, middle part, bun or tail behind.
Unspoken echoes cloud the mind, her face
Unseen in vacant echoes of the night.

Author’s note: this takes some bits and pieces from an unpublished poem that evolved over the course of about a year. One version of that poem took a dark turn after six or seven stanzas. One version was too much of a “when you know what you don’t know” situation. The most recent version of that poem doesn’t end as hopefully as I would like, though I think it does capture the sentiment of “things are falling apart, no matter what I try to do to hold them together,” or, “this is not how I pictured things would be a year ago” with an unstated “can we go back a year and get a do-over?” I generally liked that poem, but it was maybe too personal, and in some minds, lacking context, could be seriously misunderstood. So, I’ve opted to canabalize that one in favor of other art.

My first attempt at this poem, on the other hand, was the inspiration for Trashed.

Copyright © 2024 H.K. Longmore

Beach Wreck

Author’s note: I initially titled this “#4” because it was the fourth of my “sauna sonnet” series, and I was trying to develop a habit of writing sonnets in the sauna during my post-strength-training sauna sessions. Lest some future historian discover my poetry and chide me for such an unimaginative title, I decided to give it a different name.

Across the distance of days long and dark,
And through fields littered with chords from our past,
Solace seek in knowledge, high water mark,
Try to make joy brought by your grand smiles last.
But it's been so long, the miles fade away,
White sands pass o'er the wings of time, beach-wrecked.
Waves at my feet mock recall of that day,
Digital palms lessen rip tide's effect.
I do not fear the shame of going back,
Nor the possibility I yet lack,
But if I see your face never again
I'll let sands trade sanity for bliss,
Dreaming always of that last parting kiss
We never had, through one lifetime or ten.

Copyright ©️ 2024 H.K. Longmore

Hanging On Too Long

Sentimental doesn't do it justice,
It lacks the depth of hope unrelenting.
Delusional doesn't account, just this
Doubt for which I'm constantly repenting.
Hope springs eternal, but muddied waters
Are wont to flow from a well nigh to dry.
The flame, of hope, of love, burns far hotter
Though it be quenched by eyes too dry to cry.
Yet in holding on too long, I may lose:
I may not see missed opportunity;
May not catch meaning of your fleeting glance;
Until it's too late, and time seals my fate—
But I'll hope and pray that you may perchance
On rethought, let Cupid's arrow find mate.

Copyright ©️ 2024 H.K. Longmore

Saline Rivers, Fresh Tides

"Come and play with us!' His fellows called out.
"Come dance with us!" Peers tried to remove doubt.
He put up no fuss, nor yet did he yield.
They knew not the reason future revealed.
Me, now, options weighed, I'd like to have played;
I'd like to have leapt and danced through the glade.
But, uncomfortable in my own skin,
I had saline rivers to cross.
For the victor is the field,
But also for the beaten down.
Both, one day, will wear a crown.
And know ye that I ye kin?
I float no better on fresh tides than salty currents;
My welcomings of the same, recurrent.

Copyright ©️ 2024 H.K. Longmore

Statistically Significant

Author’s note; I wrote this a while back, but decided enough time has passed, that it was time to dust it off and put it out in the visible universe.

Apart so long,
His heart began
A mournful song,
For his tears to gan.

Desire to see her
Once again, intensifies;
Until similar features
Trick his eyes:

Others, he knows,
Are not her,
Yet seem for a moment
They could be.

These hold his gaze
Until at last
He is satisfied
They are too dissimilar.

But it seems
The greater his longing,
The less similar
Another must look;

At what degree of dissimilarity
Will his eyes cease their tricks?
What is the threshold to keep them
Statistically significant?

©2023 H.K. Longmore

Closed-Captioning

Movie fantastic:
Watching real life unfolding,
Senses enlivened.
An unwanted change;
Video signal goes blank,
Audio remains.
Still captivating, 
Listening to audio:
Movie fantastic.
Video returns:
Brief interludes side by side;
Pulse quickens and skips.
Signal cut again,
Audio also is lost;
Movie fantastic.
Now closed-captioning
Only signal that remains.
Relationship strained?
With no video,
No audio, still I'm sure:
Movie fantastic.

© 2022 H.K. Longmore

Iago: Ambushed

Dark the night sky,
Fell, the foul zephyr.
Brackish black water
Broken by two beady eyes.

Iago has returned.

Creeping up the coast,
He seeks to insert himself
Where least welcome is his self;
They’d prefer him to roast.

He hears a patrol
Coming down the lane,
Hides among barrels of petrol;
They’ll not have his mane.

The patrol stops,
Blocking his intended path.
To avoid the cops
He’ll have to subdue his wrath,

And take an alternate route.
Sneaking down a back alley,
He has no time to dally;
When bright lights remove all doubt:

He’s been followed.

Spinning ’round,
He sees the patrol closed in behind;
In front lie the hounds,
He sees he is confined.

“Welcome to my table,”
Greets the queen,
Gesturing to that of fable,
Round and now white and green.

Ambushed.

At the Siege Perilous,
Sits formidable foe:
Sir Galahad looks ready to row.
Iago takes a seat, voice querulous.

“At this table, all you have to say is heard by all,”
the queen instructs.
Iago’s face falls:
This rule his scheming obstructs.

“You are now cursed to always meet at this table,
Every time you set foot upon our shores.
Think not that you are able
To remove this curse from your core.”

His vitriol laid bare,
He tells the reasons
For despair;
But it’s not his season.

“So you have naught but speculation
To lay before this confabulation?
Each of your points in turn countered?”
The queen sees his plan has foundered.

“Then you are dismissed,
Thank your for your time.
Now back into the brine,
Return to the abyss.

You’ll not be missed.”

©2021 H.K. Longmore

Iago, An Interlude

Wounded, I limp back from the shore
Where Iago and I dueled a week before.
Though I see no scabs nor scars,
Infection festers under my skin.

Simple suggestion,
Not banshee wail,
Was his effective weapon.
What cure is there for my ail?

I sought an answer from the sea,
But there was no reply.
I requested knowledge
From the rolling hills,

An answer faint
Floated away on the breeze.
The city streets I pounded,
Pleading for release,

But it was temporary,
Ill effects of Iago’s dart,
Wolf pack of lies
Still closing in around my heart.

There are labors to perform,
So I gather my strength;
Wounds mention but not at length,
Mostly I ignore.

Floating o’er the ether,
Slipping through the speakers,
Dulcet sounds envelop the space.

No siren song luring away,
No piper’s call to come and play;
No healing light in which to bathe.
Naught but work and banter.

Yet it’s what I needed,
It seeps inside;
Finds the wolves,
Turns the tide.

I’m ninety percent there
But the day is done;
I try again the city streets.
Still no cure, but I quicken my pace.

Almost home, bits become current,
Current transduced into a familiar song;
Strength taken from the bridge:

But if you’ve got the angst or you’ve got the ardor
You might faint from the fight but you’re gonna find it
For every challenge could have paradise behind it

Blues Traveler, Stand

Elation finds me
And takes away
The remaining tinge;
My skin feels whole again.

© 2021 H.K. Longmore