WHO KNEW? » poetry

I got your back.

veronicaromm — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 20:24:35 +0000

I got your back.

You’ve got mine.

Don’t listen to the haters,

We’re doing just fine.

Voices, looks

And exaggeration.

What they say means nothing,

Just causes needless aggravation.

Believe in you and me.

Now is what we have,

No one can tell us

What it ought to be.

Our only concern

Should be loving each other.

Enjoying the gift

Of the love of another.

Posted in blog, happiness, life, love, people, personal, poetry, relationships, writing Tagged: love, poetry, relatiohsips, web blog, writing

About a Friend

veronicaromm — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 13:33:12 +0000

From the archives:
This is the most popular of all my poems for the past year so here once again About a Friend.

Yes this is personal and yes it is true.
It is my experience that I am sharing with you.

We were so close like sisters people said.
Closer than that we were, it was over your head.

A bond that sparked instantaneously much like new romance.
Of course those that insinuated such did not follow the dance.

Give give, take take, it all seemed so equal at first.
No shadow of doubt, we would never be cursed.

Hours and days were spent sharing the past.
The laughter and tears were flowing and vast.

Each told of old sorrows and pain we had endured.
Consoling each other, we were each others cure.

We had found one another, knew it was different this time.
The ying to her yang, the partner to our crime.

We turned heads and made people wonder.
Quite a few tried to quiet the thunder.

This gave us our strength, like forces of nature together.
She and I against the world, no storm we couldn’t weather.

Life would charge in and test our power.
Tempted and taunted to see who would cower.

We prevailed time after time, year after year.
We drew lines for others that were perfectly clear.

Then one day it happened, the first of the clues.
A weakness exposed and a hint of a ruse.

“Not us I thought, this was not our path.”
Rips in the fabric, hidden agendas, you do the math.

And with just as much power as we united.
Truth had snuck in though reluctant and uninvited.

The face I began to recognize was that of a stranger.
I saw it clearly and knew of the danger.

I had heard the voice before and I remember I had shuddered.
Those combative words thrust at me she had finally uttered.

The loss was tremendous the grief devastating.
I now understood the line between loving and hating.

I missed her so, wishing for a branch or simply a leaf.
Yet not until I let her go was their any relief.

Why today of all days to write this for all to see?
Perhaps, maybe it means I can at last be free.

Posted in best friends, poetry, relationships, true stories, web blog, women, writing Tagged: blog, loss, poetry, relationships

The long distance kiss.

veronicaromm — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 11:44:17 +0000

She blew him a kiss
It was shaped like her lips
He caught it with pride
For it had made quite a trip.

Over the cities
And the great sea.
A wondrous voyage
It had turned out to be.

So once it arrived
It was placed with great care
On the forehead belonging
To a most royal heir.

He smiled as he felt it
Rush through his veins.
This kiss that brought with it
The cure for his pains.

Posted in photo, poetry, writing Tagged: art, poetry, web blog, writing

Anger unmanaged

veronicaromm — Wed, 18 Feb 2009 05:59:48 +0000

anger and fear, rage, hatred, revolting.
in one second sparks ignite nothing in its trajectory safe.
words sputter through clenched teeth, raised voices, prickly tongues.
jabs, slices, punches inflicting maximum pain.
no rational thought, respect, or love.
deeply planted wounds seep with fresh blood.
a storm so out of control demanding attention.
no cure once blinded by the rush.
it spins through each cell and fiber.
hoping, trying to regain control as the venom attacks the soul.
breathing steadies, pulse no longer blaring.
around, tossed in the rubble is the evidence the damage done.
despicable words spoken replay on the tape.
left standing amidst intolerable shame.

Posted in abuse, anger, grief, pain, personal, poetry, web blog, writing Tagged: anger, blog, fear, life, people, poetry, relationships, web blog

History lesson

veronicaromm — Wed, 19 Nov 2008 20:37:27 +0000

History serves to inform and prepare. In order to learn we must be acutely aware.

When all has been tried, nothing being a mystery,

How are we expected to appreciate history?

The most brilliant minds that came before us.

The teachers, our heroes, and always the infamous.

Einstein, Tesla and Salvador Dali,

Allowing every sense to make a decision

Never lose sight of your personal vision.

Will it ever be equal?

We don’t need anymore sequels.

Why so politically correct?

Say what you mean you’ll earn more respect.

The police shoot first, with little concern.

When will these bullies actually learn?

What are the new taboos?

Doesn’t anyone have a thing to lose?

Posted in blog, poetry, thoughts, writing Tagged: people, poetry, questions, society, web blog, writing

Blogger appreciation day.

veronicaromm — Mon, 10 Nov 2008 13:33:09 +0000

I thought it was time to show some love and appreciation to some of the wonderful people (and their blogs) whom I have met this past year on-line. This is a list of diverse sites and authors, each so unique and creative. I would highly recommend stopping by their sites, I believe there is something for everyone . In no particular order let me acknowledge some fellow bloggers and friends. Thank you all.

Zestycook by Cory

Billy the blogging poet

The year of the chick by Romi

Robert’s Linknotes (rjj on SU)

Midlife Bachelor by Greg

The happiest blog on earth by Terence

Posted in authors, blog, people, poetry, relationships, thoughts, web blog, writing Tagged: bloggers, blogs, food blog, people, poetry, writing

With open eyes.

veronicaromm — Sat, 08 Nov 2008 19:27:00 +0000

May it be a holiday.

New Year’s Eve or your Birthday.

Halloween, Mother’s Day or graduation.

All of them deserve a celebration.

Dress up in a beaded gown.

A tailored suit won’t let you down.

Wear the colors of the season.

Some days you don’t need a reason.

Any day can be a joyous surprise .

Once you open up your eyes.

Posted in blog, love, poetry, relationships, thoughts, web blog, writing Tagged: happiness, love, poetry, relationships, web blog, writing

Duet

veronicaromm — Sat, 01 Nov 2008 15:32:58 +0000

Blowing Back Her Kisses
If I could write for her a symphony

would it stand the test of time?

If I wrote for her the perfect poem

would it have the perfect rhyme?

Would I come to miss her tender kiss

if she blew each kiss my way?

And if I were to run to her

would she hope that I would stay?

My Response

If I wrote the perfect words.

And said the perfect things?

Would they make him stop writing these,

and all the joy they bring?

Could I ever speak a thoughtless phrase,

and risk hurting him dear?

Am I worthy of the compliments?

This is my only fear.

Posted in authors, blog, people, poetry, relationships, thoughts, web blog, writing Tagged: people, poetry, relationships, web blog, writing

The Colors of Love.

veronicaromm — Fri, 31 Oct 2008 16:08:35 +0000

The fresh green of the grass.

Your touch on my skin.

Our limbs entwined on the park lawn

as the breeze blows around us.

Hearts are dancing again.

The crisp blue of the water.

Your touch on my skin.

Waves crashing around us.

It is love we’ve been granted and

We have both given in.

The leaves falling yellow, orange, and red.

Wanting your touch on my skin.

I am chilled, dry to the bone,

Where have you been?

The red roaring fire.

Feeling your touch on my skin.

Snow falling outside the window

while you’re keeping me warm,

Yet now only in this dream.

Posted in blog, poetry, relationships, writing Tagged: poetry, relationships, thoughts, web blog

Hormonal Rant

veronicaromm — Sat, 25 Oct 2008 03:29:12 +0000

I hate my thighs!

There is nothing on TV!

It’s too cold outside!

I need new clothes!

Traffic sucks!

I’m hungry!

I miss my friends!

I need a vacation!

My stomach is so flabby!

I can’t wear a bikini now!

Men are arrogant babies!

Dumb people should wear a sign!

There is nothing to eat!

Why is this taking so long!

Don’t you know who I am!

I want to scream!

I am screaming!

People are watching!

They must think I’m fat!

I need to take a deep breath!

Ok, maybe a few deep breaths!

I am so embarrassed!

I must get over myself!

I can’t stand being late!

Ok, am I late?

Thank god, right on time!

What was I saying?

[polldaddy poll=1040349]

Posted in humor, poetry, thoughts, writing Tagged: poetry, web blog, writing

Don’t I know you?

veronicaromm — Wed, 22 Oct 2008 10:02:38 +0000

I stumbled through a page today,
And found a friend along the way.
A simple hello and nice to meet you,
Followed by sharing a picture or two.
We noticed the hats right from the start
It may have helped her in standing apart.
From all over the world I meet great artists and minds.
Yet something told me we were two of a kind.
The oddest things came quickly to light.
Our lives would reveal a similar plight.
Instantly there was a comfort there.
I found that with her I am able to share.
No fear of judgment provides a space.
I need to have in order to trace.
The path that I’ve wandered that got me here
Those personal stories I can share without fear
Together I see something greater than two.
A friendship that helps both of us make it through.

Posted in blog, chemistry, friendships, happiness, life, people, personal, poetry, relationships, trust, women, writing Tagged: friendship, poetry, web blog, writing

Who Knew?

veronicaromm — Wed, 15 Oct 2008 17:26:36 +0000

Ever since I first wrote this signature post for my blog I have had the pleasure of learning so much more and meeting so many new people through my blog and social media. So I wanted to repost it for those new and wonderful people that have become so supportive of my writing. Thanks guys, you know who you are.

Who Knew? by Veronica Romm

Who knew knowledge could be sorrow?

Who knew our rights could be stripped away?

Who knew laws could never govern?

Who knew leaders could get lost?

Who knew identities could be stolen?

Who knew faces could be altered?

Who knew science could betray us?

Who knew history could be ignored?

Who knew evil could be taught?

Who knew heroes could be villains?

Who knew our neighbors could be saints?

Who knew sinners could be teachers?

Who knew clothes could make the man?

Who knew possessions could be priceless?

Who knew wealth could be so hungry?

Who knew money could buy power?

Who knew fame could be an illness?

Who knew words could soon be censored?

Who knew hate could turn to love?

Who knew our bodies could betray us?

Who knew hearts could really break?

Who knew laughter could be medicine?

Who knew our children could be cruel?

Who knew man could choose a bomb?

Who knew mothers could kill their babies?

Who knew sisters could be strangers?

Who knew our sons could die at war?

Who knew pain could be a business?

Who knew pleasure could lead to death?

Who knew friends could turn against us?

Who knew memories could fade so quickly?

Who knew lovers could be untrue?

Who knew time could heal all wounds?

Who knew questions could be left unanswered?

Posted in blog, life, philosophy, poetry, thoughts, web blog, writing Tagged: blog, life, poetry, questions, society, thoughts, writing

Love and Suicide

veronicaromm — Sat, 13 Sep 2008 14:37:51 +0000

Have you felt nirvana in the arms of another,
Falling so deeply, you mesh into one?

Have you seen the devil in the eyes of a lover,
seeing into your core, while they’re coming undone.

Did you notice the void, while flesh intertwined,
lost completely, yet knowing that he was far gone?

Did it take you forever, to spin out of control,
Body limp and exhausted and with no place to run?

Did you ever believe that he had beaten the demons?
Or were finally relieved when he took out the gun?

Thank you note: Goodbye Spencer RIP

veronicaromm — Sun, 17 Aug 2008 07:10:03 +0000

I wrote this poem for my best friend Spencer Parris, today I learned that he was shot to death on July 17. I had been calling and looking for him, I finally wrote an email and learned this . It is not true, and he was killed by a trigger happy intoxicated cop. I am in shock, utter and total complete shock, and I want my friend back, and I am posting this because I wrote it to my friend and I will never see him again.

Thank you note: Jan 13 2008 original post

You’re like the brother I never had,

The friend I’ve always needed.

My truth when I need a jolt of reality,

Unfortunately, not always heeded.

Your honesty is never lost on me

I marvel at your generosity.

I learn from you, laugh with you, and argue with you.

You listen to me, laugh at me, and keep me true.

I wanted to share these things, before life interfered inevitably.

As life always does, in ways we may not be able to foresee.

So Friend, let me take this moment to recognize you.

My friend, brother and more, I just wanted to say

“Thank You.”

Tennis and Poetry: “If” recited by Federer and Nadal

veronicaromm — Mon, 11 Aug 2008 07:34:48 +0000

Combining some of my favorite things i.e. poetry, tennis, and tennis players. This Wimbledon promo is simply a fortunate find. Without further ado, I present Roger and Rafa reciting Rudyard Kipling’s “IF” which adorns the entrance to center court at Wimbledon.

IF
by Rudyard Kipling

(‘Brother Square-Toes’—Rewards and Fairies)

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

You and I?

veronicaromm — Mon, 11 Aug 2008 01:19:23 +0000

To and fro

Here and there.

You and me,

An unlikely pair.

Borrowing moments

Or minutes or days.

Focused blindly

We live in a haze.

Are we mere mortals

Ready to share?

To expose our hearts

By becoming a pair?

Do you know this man?

veronicaromm — Tue, 05 Aug 2008 23:16:44 +0000

The measure of a man must be taken with care.

What looks and sounds good on the outside can be empty and bare.

Words that are spoken should only be heard,

Not ever taken as his final word.

When he tells you he loves you, this may be a bad sign.

Please spare me the bullshit, without them I was doing just fine.

When jealousy starts to get a hold of this nut.

Watch how his words go from “I love you” to “Slut.”

Oh and if this man has himself a wife.

Tell him to go and get a f*&^ing life.

We Are Seven

veronicaromm — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 05:09:46 +0000

This has been one of my favorite poems since I was quite young.

WE ARE SEVEN by William Wordsworth 1798--A SIMPLE Child, That lightly draws its breath

And feels its life in every limb,

What should it know of death?

I met a little cottage Girl:

She was eight years old, she said;

Her hair was thick with many a curl

That clustered round her head.

She had a rustic, woodland air,

And she was wildly clad:

Her eyes were fair, and very fair;

–Her beauty made me glad.

“Sisters and brothers, little Maid,

How many may you be?”

“How many? Seven in all,” she said

And wondering looked at me.

“And where are they? I pray you tell.”

She answered, “Seven are we;

And two of us at Conway dwell,

And two are gone to sea.

“Two of us in the church-yard lie,

My sister and my brother;

And, in the church-yard cottage, I

Dwell near them with my mother.”

“You say that two at Conway dwell,

And two are gone to sea,

Yet ye are seven!–I pray you tell,

Sweet Maid, how this may be.”

Then did the little Maid reply,

“Seven boys and girls are we;

Two of us in the church-yard lie,

Beneath the church-yard tree.”

“You run about, my little Maid,

Your limbs they are alive;

If two are in the church-yard laid,

Then ye are only five.”

“Their graves are green, they may be seen,”

The little Maid replied,

“Twelve steps or more from my mother’s door,

And they are side by side.

“My stockings there I often knit,

My kerchief there I hem;

And there upon the ground I sit,

And sing a song to them.

“And often after sunset, Sir,

When it is light and fair,

I take my little porringer,

And eat my supper there.

“The first that died was sister Jane;

In bed she moaning lay,

Till God released her of her pain;

And then she went away.

“So in the church-yard she was laid;

And, when the grass was dry,

Together round her grave we played,

My brother John and I.

“And when the ground was white with snow,

And I could run and slide,

My brother John was forced to go,

And he lies by her side.”

“How many are you, then,” said I,

“If they two are in heaven?”

Quick was the little Maid’s reply,

“O Master! we are seven.”

“But they are dead; those two are dead!

Their spirits are in heaven!”

‘Twas throwing words away; for still

The little Maid would have her will,

And said, “Nay, we are seven!”

1798.

A Little Walt Whitman

veronicaromm — Fri, 18 Jul 2008 04:19:57 +0000

When I heard the learn’d astronomer by Walt Whitman

When I heard the learn’d astronomer,

When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,

When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,

When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,

How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,

Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,

In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,

Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

Just wanted to share some genius with you today. Those old poets really knew how to make a point. I had a really tough English teacher two years in a row. A.P. English was perhaps the most difficult class I ever took. But Mrs. H pushed my lazy ass and I wrote. I also got grounded if my grade was below a B and in Mrs. H’s class a C was normal. I got grounded a few times but usually I intercepted the PINK SLIP she would write to alert my mother of my shameful grade. I remember reading this and totally understanding it, I had the best discussion with Mrs. H about this poem. I got an A.

Walt Whitman (1819-1892) is America’s world poet — a latter-day successor to Homer, Virgil, Dante, and Shakespeare. In his Leaves of Grass, first published in 1855 and revised and expanded for the rest of his life, he celebrated democracy, nature, love, and friendship. This monumental work chanted praises to the body as well as to the soul, and found beauty and reassurance even in death.

Ode to Edie: Andy’s Superstar

veronicaromm — Sat, 12 Jul 2008 05:21:00 +0000

One from the Archives

Mayflower girl surrounded by sins.
East coast blue blood coursing through her veins.
Santa Barbara born, raised in the bins,
Escaped to New York to ease her pains.

Poor little rich girl, embraced by the crowd.
She’s danced like a goddess
And the maker was proud.

Watching as she groped for love and affection.
Welcoming her with his arms open wide. She couldn’t
Much help it when “It” garnered attention.

He liked all the money and elite cache.
Edie and Andy sounded right, kindred spirits,
With each other to play.

Yet times were quickly changing,
As she was led into the dark.
She looked in the mirror; scarred and ravaged
How did she lose that brilliant spark?

Girl on fire rescued from the flame.
At the Chelsea hotel alone, how far
She had plunged from her fifteen minutes of fame.

Andy created his masterpiece with care.
Then watched as the pieces fell one by one,
Dominoes falling in unison to the sound of despair.

The day she died was just another day.
He pretended and postured, but the truth was in the end
He claimed be barely knew his fragile protégé.