I like you
and I don’t like it–
I want you more and more and more. . .

Will you like me?
I want to feel it. . .
But I doubt I dare explore. . .

I do not know you. . .
but I want you–
I want to fill all my empty spaces,

I want to calm the fears
and cry the tears
and soothe and salve the mad,
and feel completely free
to hug a teddy bear to me
to cheer the age-old sad. . .

I like you
and I want so much,
I need a cork to plug
the onrush
of my desire. . .

Where scarce has glowed the smallest spark,
a gust comes up–
and I s-l-o-w-l-y catch on fire. . .

How could it be
that you’d ask me–
If I could have
+++++anything I want,
+++++what would it be?
I can’t believe that anyone would grant me such a say. . .
would put me at the helm
+++++to chart and steer
+++++my own direction. . .
++++++++++But along comes you,
++++++++++and that’s the question
++++++++++that you’ve spurred me to,
++++++++++as if ’twere possible I knew
++++++++++which way to go
++++++++++to finally claim my due
++++++++++a dream whose path
++++++++++I would, at last
++++++++++be free to follow–

I dare not dream of it,
that anyone
would welcome me
and I believe in who I was
not just for how I looked
or some charming stance I took
or docile smiling, sweet and mellow. . .

The thought
that I could lead?
Could offer much
to those in need?
An idea I’ve scarcely tried. . .

What’s that you said?
That I could say, and choose?
That I could well soak in the rays
of sun and stars and moon,
let course through my veins their life-giving juice?
And leave behind
that tiresome game
of the self-protective,
waiting, pleasing-others kind?

That I could let you close to me–
Without giving you sovereignty?

That I could relish in
the things I’ve done,
the progress that I’ve made?

Such strides in thought–
within my long-held comfort zone,
they’re not–

So, I like you and I don’t like it–
because I’m feeling near
to the day I’ll soar,
and even though I now range far
as I explore,
I’m still afraid.

This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to I LIKE YOU (AND I DON’T LIKE IT)

  1. Sam says:

    Your words flow as a conversation between mind and spirit. What more can poetry be!

  2. Stephanie says:

    This is a neat poem. I feel like your sitting somewhere plucking the petals from a flower and talking to yourself back and forth. Interesting movement of words. 🙂

    • Thank you, Stephanie.
      That is an apt way to look at it, like the “he-loves-me, he-loves-me-not” daisy plucking game. Had to re-read the poem to check that out, and I definitely see what you mean there.

  3. Pingback: I LIKE THIS (a vintage poem of mine you probably never saw) | The Danforth Anchor

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s