Issue #12 for November 1997

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 Amrita's New Heartstrings Romance Page

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But first; take a moment to read Amritas'
GUIDELINES:
I would like to thank the authors of the following poems for their contribution
and wish them much success!

Read and Enjoy


And if you do enjoy a poem, please E-mail the author.




Time
 © D Collins


Time can be a friend or
Time can be a foe
When we are bored we have lot's of it
When we are not it seems to go

Faster, Faster just one blink
That instant gone forever
Now the future is more uncertain
Even than the wheather

We need the sun, We need the air
The wind and rain and snow
But most of all, We all need Time
Could this be the God we know?


Send some E-mail to: THE AUTHOR of this poem.




please forgive me
 © Amani


Every time I hear this song I think of you
if only I could have spoken sweet tender words sooner
I would not be hurt disappointed lonely searching...
still these words are only the surface of the depths of my emotions
no poem
no song
no nothing
no bible
no constitution
could tell completely how I feel
no poem
no song
no bible
no constitution
holds all my thoughts emotions wishes desires prayers of you
no poem
no song
no bible
no constitution
fully captures my needs wants likes (somtimes) my love for you

so forgive me if I do not speak
forgive me if I walk by without a word

it is nothing personal
I am not angry with you
I am only shielding me from more pain

how can I hug you hello when I want to say "I Love You"
how can I talk about the weather when I want to talk us
how can I keep it "friendly" "cordial" "polite" when I want to scream
how can I pretend at "just friends" when I want it at lovers
how can I watch you happy when I want to cry
how can I speak of you and her when I want to discuss you and I
sweet chocolate kisses
creamy luscious tongues
hot fudge passion ignited by
sticky pineapple love
just a fantasy never to be realized
...never to be fulfilled
...never to be sensationalized

just frustration/anger at myself for not saying words of strawberry
scrumptious attraction to your smile, your lips, your hair, your legs,
your arms, your being
just frustration/anger at myself for not touching caressing holding
hugging kissing reaching out to you
when tidal waves of affection swept over me
frustration/anger/pity/regrets
preventing expressions of emotions for you

since our first 8 pm rendezvous
thoughts of you
have been a constant companion of mine
wondering where you are, are you happy, are you loved,
could I make you happy, could I love you
nights alone longing to be filled with your sexy smile gentle hands
strong arms kind words sweet disposition
nothing personal behind my nonchalantness
instead motivated by memories of pain and betrayal
really wanting, needing to show-and-tell emotions
that could leave the heart and soul vulnerable, exposed
now broken-hearted on a Saturday morning wishing for a time machine to
zoom back to 2/21/97 on a mission to change fate
hoping one day paths will cross bringing together desire passion
friendship companionship love

but in the meantime, please forgive me
if I do not speak or seem friendly
(I don't want you seein' me cryin'
just walk away
or you gonna see my heart break)
Please forgive me
Count it against my mind and not my heart


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please forgive me.. Part II
 © Amani


your presence was nice
but your staying would have echoed more loudly
your concern for me
seeing me in person
did not soften the blow but only made it harder to
hold back the flood swelling inside
the realization that my essence
was not enough to quail your hunger
for love and romance leads to disappointment

me caught in the wheels of confusion
turning spinning faster

what did I do wrong? self pity self blame self hatred

can't go there
gotta be realistic about this
gotta be strong, hold on

can't let go of 24 years of work in one day
can't let one man, one situation dismay me persuade me
to change my ways actions idiosyncrasies

did my calls visits messages on your machine passion plays in your bed
bot sound loud enough for you?
did they not shout that you are heavily on my mind wrapped up in my
heart dancing in my soul?

did you need more?
did you need for me to parade with signs declaring eternal,
never-to-be-forsaken love for you?
did you need more?
did you need me to baptize you in the juices that flow through me making
you a disciple, a follower, a believer
in the gospel of a nubian goddess?
did you need more?
did you need me to kiss your feet massage your shoulders rub your back
purr ecstasy in your ears stroke your ego perhaps?

WHAT DID YOU WANT? WHAT DID YOU NEED?

was it more than what I had to give?

sometimes a person's actions
are reflections of what we are and what we do
you took my actions as nonchalant and indifferent
whereas I perceived them as cautious and thoughtful

no apologies for not displaying more affection
but to my recollection
I was not the only section
who kept secrets in their possesion
favtasies of romantic obsession

being unable to re-write the pages of history
we must go forth and write new novels poems prose and other works of art
with hopes of one day penning a Pulitzer Prize

by: sonni-ali "indigo" amani


Send some E-mail to: THE AUTHOR of this poem.




Scavengers
© C.E. Chaffin


Through blue cypresses,
under mint-needled firs,
down the leaf-choked stream
to the gray beach
north of San Francisco,
the white fog's tongue
probes the air
for a dry spot to lick--
there is none.

The sea's shapeless body seizures on the sand.

The foghorn bawls like a drowning cow.

Sandpipers stare
at the shoreline's slick mirror
and ignore themselves.
They see only food and not-food.

When we stare in store windows
at reflections of ourselves and strangers,
do we see food or not-food?


Send some E-mail to: THE AUTHOR of this poem.




The Cat Lady (of Santa Barbara)
 © C.E. Chaffin


Brown plastic shopping cart
bears blankets, jewelry,
cat food, cookbooks,
brushes, Kleenex-- a purse
on wheels half-submerged in sand
by the wooden pier
where whale watchers go.

Two cats circle the cart,
fat, lazy as dirt,
one black, one calico.

"Goddamn the beach is warm
but you can never tell
when it'll get cold," she says,
loosening her orange parka.
"Look-- some guy dropped a whole dollar!"
in her cat-shaped basket.

"The cats help.
They brush against people, make 'em feel loved,
so whoever stops to pet usually gives something.

"Those who don't are the biggest cat lovers.
They know cats are too proud to beg.
I'm not."


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Resistance
 © C.E. Chaffin


My cat rubs her slippery fur
against my calf,
not to request anything
but to connect with something.

My legs are less hairy than hers,
but we share the ambient static.
Why does this otherwise solitary cat
sand my shins each morning so noiselessly,
her black fur wet with sunlight?

Inside her tiny cranium
(a cat's skull looks so small
when stripped of fur)
I think she seeks resistance,
something to brush against,
something not her.

Send some E-mail to: THE AUTHOR of this poem.




In A Box
 © Gretchen Moore


Do not put me in a box,
with repititious ways,
And I will give you loving nights
and warm, peaceful days.

For if I can, always, go, see and do
and laugh and dance and sing,
I'd welcome you beside me
with your own free-spirited wings.

With such a big, yet fragile heart
I gently ride the wind,
Chancing going from calm to stormy,
following where it may end.

But if you put me in a box
I'll surely wither and die,
And it should only take a moment
to know the reason why;

Because all I ever wanted
was to ride the winds unbound
With kindred heart beside me
seeking dreams, lost or found.


Send some E-mail to: THE AUTHOR of this poem.




grace
 © Gretchen Moore


i am not of this life, it is plain to see
that another purpose was in mind
when here they placed me,
into this respice, before what's in store
for me as i travel through gold-laden doors.

i am of each life long enough to plant seeds
of uncondtional love; to meet heartfelt needs.
i am here as a free spirit
to help you find peace;
perhaps pain and sadness within you may cease.

for i am here only briefly to take you away
to perhaps feel loving grace
as i have, on this day.
then maybe you will help rid the suffering and hate
and the sorrow here with us this side of the gate.

and if you and i were destined to meet
for only shortly together we've come;
and then much too soon for us, my sweet,
our purpose here,
in this time and place, is done.

then within youself, life you may more peacefully face,
for i'll be in another time,
in a far-away place-
sent to help ease the sadness there;
as He continues to exhibit His grace.


Send some E-mail to: THE AUTHOR of this poem.




My Love Lies Sleeping
 © Lynette Munnett


I look at him...he is resting.
Sleeping peacefully without me.
I, awake, miss him.
Wishing for his fingers to cross my skin,
for him to reach and find me,
tuck me next to his body, to rest with him.
Would I reach to touch his closed lids
and touch the lips that touch mine,
With soft fingertip touch?
I would wake him, yes.
Instead, I stand watching him.
Him in his childlike rest.
Happy in dreams and imaginations light,
that I wish for him.
I will dream dreams that can not be recognized.
I have been given him for a time.
I will not be sad with the knowledge
that reality would have me burdened.
I will refuse to understand truth.
I will not take another posture I will not be sucked into reality.
We walk in idealistic youth. Act as young lovers should
speaking riddles of loving.
Young lovers, joyous in moment
If we had more.. if we possessed reality,
wouldn�t we be less.. is it possible to be more?
We are perfect in this world
loving from poetic heights.
I will stand away and watch him
and dream us away from reality
that would kill us, that will in the end
I love him
Sleep well

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Need
 © Andrew R. Crow


All I need are
The tips of your fingers
On my skin
To galvanise me
With the shocking buzz of life

All I need is
Your musky wetness
On my lips
To infuse me
With the burning sense of desire
All I need are
Your reasons to live
In my soul
To permeate me
With the strength to carry on

Send some E-mail to: THE AUTHOR of this poem.




SO EMPTY
 © Allison DeLacy


The love in my heart has gone from me,
I feel so empty, so alone and scared.
I am unable to feel but hurt, there is no
one to talk to, no one to listen. I don't
know what to do or feel any more. It's
like I am on this earth on my own.

Everything seams so pointless and like
nothing is good enough, making new friends
or meeting some one new, is so hard to fine
some one so true, caring and loving as you
were to me.

If I do find a person like you, I don't know if
I run or stay, I am scared of benign hurt again.
But I do need some one in my life, all I have
to so is wait and see if I do.


Send some E-mail to: THE AUTHOR of this poem.




YOU AND ME
 © Allison DeLacy


The day we first met, I still can't get out of my mind.
The things you said and the things we had done.
Your soft touch of your hands, the soft sweet sound
of your voice
I enjoyed being with you. You make me feel like a
person and my feelings count with you. I never will
ever feel like that with anyone else in this crazy mixed
up world, I am thinking of the day we will be together
again. Till then my love, til then.


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Drowning
 © Jorge Garcia (Chilango 2)


You rage towards me
your flows resounding
and your poisened river drowns me.
......Breathe.....
......No............
My eyes are blurry
drenched in their salt water
as your deadly warmth sourrounds me,
and my soul turns blue
in your green waters.
......Breathe..........
......No...............
You leave as fast as you came
your thunderous chaos echoing
never leaving me
without your memory.
........Breathe...........
........No.................
I stop living
for you
in the cold air
almost as sharp as your eyes
and teh darker darkness
decends upon me.
......Breathe!.......
.......No!.............
My soul refuses
to abondon it's cherished post
and I remember
there is something
I must do.
.....Breathe.......
.....Breathe?......
.....Breathe!......
I gasp in
the harsh air
regretting that I cannot go
but knowing
that I must live
without you.

Send some E-mail to: THE AUTHOR of this poem.




Coming Home
 © Jorge Garcia (Chilango 2)


I look across
darkened spaces
barely able
to see the words I'm writing
barely bale to grasp
the emotions
that stretch across the continent
across the flowing rivers,
babbling about you,
across the mountains
over you,
to you,
not knowing
what you will do
to my soul.
As I ride forward
into the darkness
I am jolted back and forth
by your reality
your vision
of a young rose
growing in late Octobor
across the world
to the other sea
from whence I came
and I wonder how it will be
to come home
to the sound
of a loving voce.


Send some E-mail to: THE AUTHOR of this poem.




Upon the Mountain
 © Jorge Garcia (Chilango 2)


I walked alone
through blinding snow
high upon your lonely mountain
I was most pleased
by how welcoming
your soul was to a traveler,
You froze my feet
and burned my brain
it was altogether
rather touching.
As I stumbled through
not finding you
searching for your flower
I could not see
through my eyes of green
drowned out in your passion.
There is no view
when lost in you
there is only darkness,
There is no love
in your blizzard's touch
there is only sadness.

Send some E-mail to: THE AUTHOR of this poem.




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Created October 28 1996
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