Choosing Love
You choose, sometimes to lose
In the game of love
Seldom are there winners
So the sprint begins
Chaste kisses raining
On eager, trembling lips
To soft caresses
Or clasping hands
Walking together everywhere
Passionate loving,
Or heated climax
And thrill of victory
Soon gives way
To defeat at each turn
Words out of cadence
Stumbling club-footed
Tongue always in the way
Wanting to express
What cannot be?
So the race becomes a dance
Dashing becomes spinning
Whirling and catching
As we fall into each other’s arms
Bending gracefully
Then awkwardly we pause
Panting, sweating, waiting
Lose the beat, music dies
A slow death march ensues
And like the ballerina
Twirling in the music box
We start the dance again
Spinning, then winding down
Knowing full well
That it could be
The slow-dance or the fugue,
The last we lovers can endure
Before we separate forever
The race ended, no victory crown
Just regret, endless regret
Julia W. Prentice: A deeply feeling Cancer, Julia still has poetry from teenage years, when words were her salvation. She lives in California with her soulmate and a current furry companion. Former ASL interpreter, a passionate Peer Supporter of persons with mental health challenges, knitter, educator, crafter and singer. She writes like breathing: in ragged gasps, mighty shouts, half-voiced whispers. Always she is compelled to write. Finalist for ‘The Poet’s Billow’ Atlantis Award 2015. Published in the “Temptation Anthology”, “Where Journeys Meet - The Voice of Women’s Poetry” and “Poetry As a Spiritual Practice - Illuminating the Awakened Woman”. You may connect with her via her blog here.
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This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness… Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience. Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Gather
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