What the NFL taught me this week...

1. The Eagles are good, but not as good as I thought.

• Yes, they beat a resurgent Rams team that is better than last year. Yes, the offense was hitting on most cylinders. Yes, they did put 31 points on the board. But the bottom line is, the Rams don't have a good defense, and although it seemed improved with key additions, neither do the Eagles. (and they need to answer some questions on the OL)

2. Atlanta will not be the number 1 seed this season.

• The sub-par performance against the Bears speaks for itself. For a team with 2 of the most explosive WR, they had better figure out how to put Matty Ice in a position to take advantage of it.

3. The Cowboys are actually good.

• If they could just figure out a way to get Witten off the line, off the block, and into the endzone, they should actually compete for a playoff spot.

4. Houston is a playoff team.

• They have been for the last 2 years, but an Indy team without Payton, is an AFC championship game with the Texans.

5. Pittsburgh, really?

• I mean... really?

6. The Bears aren't as bad as everyone thought.

• Still not sure what they have, but I do know that they look good. The defense, monsters, the offense, efficient. If Jay can continue to make good decisions, and the OL can stop making as many mistakes, the Bears have a shot at the Wildcard.

7. The NFC North is the best division in the NFL right now.

• With the NFC Champion, and the Super Bowl Champion last year coming from the North division, this division looks scary. The Packers, are once again dominant, dismantling the Saints in the season opener. The Bears are stout, and Detroit is a team to be reckoned with this year with an incredible DL, and a very good QB as long as he's healthy. And even the lowly Vikings were a tough loss. Look out NFC, get ready to battle

All in all it was a great opening week for Football, and they did an excellent job paying homage, but not overshadowing September 11th.

On to next week, and more surprises. But that's football.

#13 Night

What is it about a new moon?
The way it keeps the stars company,
giving them something to aspire to.
It's stingy.
Only gives half of itself on some days,
and a quarter on others.
But when it's full,
it's beautiful,
bold.
The sun is the same every day,
it shines, and goes.
Never changing.
The sun is never different.
But the moon,
the same moon,
can be new at times.
It must be fun,
to only give half,
or a quarter.
To be beautiful and
bold, sometimes.
But more importantly
to know,
that without you
there would be nothing to look forward too.

12 Rounds

I'm fighting
Dukes up,
protecting.
I have my okie-doke ready
I'm riding the ropes
prepared for the back and forth.
I'm shuffling
weaving left and right.
I'll show you my chin,
dare you to touch me,
catch me,
control the tempo.
You have thought about how you were going
to cross,
to jab,
to uppercut.
I let you do what you think you want.
I want you to wear yourself out,
chase me.
I'll slip your best shot.
And when I counter,
you'll go down.
Not because I'm better,
or stronger,
or faster.
I'm just more prepared.
While you were contemplating your moves,
I was reacting.

#11: More

It’s not you
Per se
Although you do make me happy
I think
Instead
It’s the general idea of you
That makes me smile

Word Study (1)

So I was watching "The Colbert Show," honestly one of the smartest and funniest shows on T.V. in my opinion, and Stephen Colbert had Caroline Kennedy on the show talking about a new book of poetry that she complied and edited entitled, "She Walks In Beauty." (a title taken from a Lord Byron poem if you didn't know). They recited a poem I really liked titled, "I Like Americans" by Edna St. Vincent Millay (1924):

I like Americans.
You may say what you will, they are the nicest people in the world.
They sleep with their windows open.
Their bathtubs are never dry.
They are not grown up yet. They still believe in Santa Claus.

They are terribly in earnest.
But they laugh at everything…

I like Americans.
They give the matches free…

I like Americans.
They are the only men in the world, the sight of whom in their shirt-sleeves is not rumpled, embryonic and agonizing…

I like Americans.
They carry such pretty umbrellas.
The Avenue de l’Opera on a rainy day is just an avenue on a rainy day.
But Fifth Avenue on a rainy day is an old-fashioned garden under a shower…

They are always rocking the boat.
I like Americans.
They either shoot the whole nickel, or give up the bones.
You may say what you will, they are the nicest people in the world.

I love the whimsy, the simplicity and the love in this poem. I also love how innocent and naive Americans come off in the poem. There is something to said for words that get where they are going very quickly and entice easy thoughts and a smile. This poem is however very similar to another poem written a year earlier in 1923 by Ernest Hemingway of the same name:

I like Americans.
They are so unlike Canadians.
They do not take their policemen seriously.
They come to Montreal to drink.
Not to criticize.
They claim they won the war.
But they know at heart that they didn't.
They have such respect for Englishmen.
They like to live abroad.
They do not brag about how they take baths.
But they take them.
Their teeth are so good.
And they wear B.V.D.'s all the year round.
I wish they didn't brag about it.
They have the second best navy in the world.
But they never mention it.
They would like to have Henry Ford for president.
But they will not elect him.
They saw through Bill Bryan.
They have gotten tired of Billy Sunday.
Their men have such funny hair cuts.
They are hard to suck in on Europe.
They have been there once.
They produced Barney Google, Mutt and Jeff.
And Jiggs.
They do not hang lady murderers.
They put them in vaudeville.
They read the Saturday Evening Post
And believe in Santa Claus.
When they make money
They make a lot of money.
They are fine people.

Now you can tell that one is clearly influenced by the other, but the thing about the Hemingway joint is that it dates itself, and I'm not ashamed to say I had to google some of the names in it to gather the full weight of the poem. But I think every poet has to have works that transcend, works that you can read any where and any time, and they will still be relevant. But I think that all poets have to create poems that serve as time capsules, poems that force the readers of the future to look up what they are talking about to understand. It's the job of the poet to make the reader think, laugh, reflect, but it's also his job to educate.

Blocked...

So I've come to the point where I have been a little blocked. I received a suggestion from a friend, and accomplished poet in his own right, to start reading more. I took this too heart. I have about 5 books that I have started and not finished, including a book of short stories I picked up last summer that is water-proof for pool reading. I've started to work my way through it, read about 3 of the stories, one of which was really good, and all that have different writing styles that have given me good ideas. What I'm also starting to realize is that I am a horrible poet. Poets know other poets, can quote them, are well versed in them, steal their ideas, try to write their poems, fail horribly, and become better poets because of it. So in addition to posting new poetry as a part of my 50 poems in a year challenge, I think I'm going to start doing some poetry analysis or just posting poems that I find that you might have heard of or might not have in an effort to make myself stay disciplined in my craft. That was a bit of a run on I think, but we'll call it poetic license. Anywho, this is more for myself to learn more about my fellow poets, lawyers know cases, doctors know studies, and I shall know poems.

#10: The Last Leg

Sometimes
I feel
The only thing I've ever completed
Is this poem.
Even that's still...

Politics

Do politicians even think of the people who they are representing when they are running? The minute I stop hearing "I know,"and start hearing, "what the people are saying" is the minute I'll start believing what these people are saying. The issue is I have never seen any politician (and since I was 3 when Harold Washington died he doesn't count) who actually delivered on everything he or she said she was going to do, or at least came to a reasonable compromise. I want to be a politician one day, but my issue is that I refuse to lie to my constituents, I refuse to make back room deals for something I don't believe just to push my agenda, and I plan on using social networking for my advantage. All of these things could spell a very short lived career.

#9: I’ve always had a problem telling time

I.

Optimism is a curse.

The issue is,

knowing something’s coming,

is not knowing when.

II.

Difficulty arises when there’s no guide,

and the hands are too short to tell the difference.

III

There is nothing worse

than arriving late,

to the wrong location,

knowing the directions are in your other pocket.

IV

I’ve always had a problem telling time,

it never listens.

#8: reaching Dreams or Reaching dreams

It must be hard,
not to be who you wish you were.
I strive instead,
to be better than I currently am.

On Love, Actually

I have had the pleasure to be inducted into a sorority, and to become friends with a member, because of that induction. And also because of that induction, I have become friends with her best friend. Over the last 6 months I have spent one day a week with these women. Talking, laughing, getting on each others nerves in a good way, and through them I have gotten to know the men that they spend their time with. Now the thing that makes this story interesting is that both of these men are exceptional. I mean they are good men, handsome, nice, and most important they are good, very good to my friends. And in turn, my friends are very, very good to them. But their relationships are built in two completely different ways. Each couple relates to each other in different ways, and they both work, and work well. But there are somethings that both possess that make them have the dynamic that makes the relationships admirable.

This has all been said to illustrate the reason why I was able to write this poem.

I cannot write about love when I'm in it. I just can't. I have loved a dozen times, I have only been IN love twice in my life. Both of those times I had the biggest writers block, or I was just so selfish with my emotion that I didn't want to share it with the world, the latter being the best explanation.

Now, when I'm not in love, I can write about wanting it. I have no problem with that. I can write about how I imagine it feels, or how it looks, or smells. I can write about having something better than I had before. I can be wishful, hopeful. This is no problem. I also had the horrible disposition of being a "love hater," a person so sick of seeing others in relationships that I never really wanted to know what their love looked like from the outside. I guess I just didn't want to witness what I didn't have.

But until I was around these two women, I did not know what that loved actually looked like, and seeing this makes me realize that I never had what I thought I had.

So I have had the idea of writing about this love that I see often, but I did not know how to voice it, how to put it in tangible words, how to let others read what I see.

Enter a third couple. And goodness, they are just as spectacular as the first two. This couple is actually so well suited for each other it's amazing they didn't meet in a sandbox somewhere. They have the same sense of humor, the same chill personality, and the same caring nature. That being said, it was something that he said to her that gave voice to the idea of this "young love" that I wanted to showcase. (Now I say "young" because I, like most, have the pleasure of being around couples who have been married for years, and even going to the weddings of friends, but I have never had the opportunity to be a witness to the meeting, arranging, and blossoming of couples until now) It was just 140 characters but it summed up what I had been seeing.

Now, I am in a place where other people's happiness, makes me happy. And I seek to be around people who genuinely love each other, I can ask their advice, I can get different perspectives on how they make things work because they are all so different, but work so well together. This is a super long poem explanation, but if one day I become a famous poet, and some senior in some college somewhere is doing a study on my work, I would have at least helped to answer the question, "what was her motivation?" My motivation is not love, or how to be in it, but being surrounded by those caught up in an emotion so strong, that their joy has rubbed off on me.

#7: Love, Actually

I have determined,
There is a difference between
Loving,
And loving unconditionally.
See, love is in love with being in love,
It's a selfish emotion.
Love sends a "get well soon" message when you're sick,
And drops you off, then texts to make sure you got in safely.
Love likes to look good,
And makes sure you look good when you're with it.
Love listens to you complain,
tells you congratulations on a promotion,
And buys you a drink for your birthday.
Love knows your favorite things,
ignores your flaws
And supports your vices.
Love tells you that you're perfect in the morning and kisses your forehead,
And says you can do nothing wrong.
Love encourages your triumphs,
But unconditional love supports you even when you fail.
It tells you when you're wrong,
And even though it tells you your breath needs a touch-up in the morning, it kisses you
anyway.
Unconditional love makes you want to improve just to make it happy,
And still loves you unconditionally if you fall a little short.
It understands why some things mean more than others,
And goes out it's way to find new things that you'll like even more.
Unconditional love sings you happy birthday at midnight, and buys the whole damn bar,
if that's what you want, then watches you sleep til morning to make sure you're ok.
It sends you a dozen roses to your desk to celebrate your accomplishments,
And makes you completely forget about whatever the hell it is you do at that building
downtown, when it walks through the door.
Unconditional love likes to make you feel good, looks damn good while doing it too, and
even digs how making you feel good makes love feel good, and likes how that feeling
looks good on you.
It walks you to the door, and has counted the stories and numbered the windows to make
sure the light turns on in your apartment before it leaves (even though it would never
admit to doing so),
then calls to tell you goodnight when it gets home.
Unconditional love is so in love, it wishes for thousands of dollars in loans to go to the
best schools, 12 years of sleep deprivation and brain cramps, malpractice insurance, and
specialties in everything possible on the off chance you come down with something so it
can be your first, second, and third opinion.
Love is a selfish emotion,
In love with the idea of being extended to catch the falling,
but moving aside afraid the strike will make it fall too.
But, unconditional love...

Unconditional love will stretch.
Bend.
Contort.
To secure what's hurling towards it, and
fall to cushion the impact.
So, yes.
There is a difference between loving,
And loving unconditionally.
Everyone has loved.

*shoutout to @LogicDriven for the title

#6: No Excuses

I am not gay.
I am not intimidated by you.
I do not have a pressing date to my wash clothes or hair.
My car is not in the shop.
To tell the truth, I just got an oil change, and my fluids topped off.
I do not have kids, so a babysitter isn't needed.
I will not be out of town.
I may or may not have a boyfriend, but that has nothing to do with my response.
Girls night out is on Thursday,
And yes, I drink or dance on occasion.
I do not have plans.
No one I know is having a birthday, marriage, baby shower, anniversary, or retirement
party this weekend.
There is nothing pressing for me to watch on TV.
I'm sure there is an important sporting event on,
But that's besides the point.
I like to go to movies, and dinner.
I really like concerts and plays.
I would probably be impressed with your taste in any of them.
I'm sure you have a job,
And a car.
You are probably comfortable in your skin,
And I know I'm comfortable in mine.
I just had my eyebrows done,
And I've looked good all week.
The weather's nice,
And I don't have to work early in the morning.
I have something to wear.
I actually just bought a new dress that would look good on me on Friday night.
I would love to go on a date,
But I simply do not wish to go with you.

#5: After 7 Years...

I've always asked the question
what was it that I did
to push you away.

I was demanding
I needed so much of you,
drove you to do more.

I expected you to do what you said,
and sometimes what I said,
or not say it at all.

I wanted you
on all fronts,
and in all ways.

And for 7 years I have wondered,
pondered,
contemplated.

Was I too demanding?
Did I expect too much?
Did I want what you couldn't give?

I simply demanded
for you to live
up to your own potential.

I expected you
to be accountable for your actions,
to love me enough to tell me the truth.

I wanted you
to be the best you,
to be happy with where you were.

And all these years,
I've blamed myself
for expecting what I wanted you to demand of yourself.

And while writing these words
I realize,
it was me.

It was you who was afraid to be successful.

It was I who pushed you away.

Bored so I was thinking...

So, as I sit I work waiting for my next presentation to start, I wonder what it is that GOD has in the works for me. You know how in the bible, at church during sermons, speaking with your elders, they all say that "GOD has a plan for your life," "everyone has a calling." Surely, my calling cannot be selling High School students on education. Now, don't get me wrong, I enjoy my job. I love hearing from students who are in the school, and are excited about their classes, and their teachers, and their internships, and about being successful in general. I love my teachers, who love their job. I love my boss, and my co-workers (well most of them anyway). I don't know if anyone I know has a job that suits them more than mine suit me. But for some reason I still feel like I'm treading water.

I could be doing more. I could be helping more people, or making more money. But my issue is that I don't know what the heck it is that I could be doing to get to that place. I really want to figure it out. I want to not only enjoy my job, but feel like it's the place where the Lord has wanted me to be all these years. I want to be challenged daily. This job is not challenging. It's cut and dry, I do the same thing everyday, and the only way it would change is that I would have more unchallenging responsibility.

What I do know is that I need to figure it out. I will though, eventually, before it's too late, I have faith in that. GOD has placed me on a path to find what he wants of me, and it might take me 2 years, or 20, but I'll get there.

Funny what enlightenment comes from bored thoughts.

#4: Music As A Lover

You caress my auditory impulses,
make me love you in intricate ways.
I can't control my desires
as you pulse through me.
I can feel the beat,
as you beat incessantly,
I push you louder
so I can feel you in me as you surround me.
Pause.
Let me grab some water,
I don't want to miss a high or a low
just want to bump you 'til the speakers
bust.
And keep you rolling
I can hear you go in, and out,
and in, and out,
a rhythm that soothes me.
You blow me.
Rewind.
You blow me with experimentation,
introducing things that I've never considered before.
The fine stroke of a string as you play my drums like a guitar,
slow and sensual,
understanding the delicacies of the first time,
gradually, gradually rising,
daring me to keep up
as I strain to match your feverish pace.
Sometimes I have to catch my breath after you take it away.
When finished you leave me so satisfied,
begging for frequent repeats,
always longing for one more hit,
jonesin' for you to fill me,
fulfill me,
pour into me,
your depth,
your length,
your
girth.
The vast array of understanding that abounds in your aura
I dig how you dig me
How you have memorized me,
always approaching me
with the perfect melody
allowing me to fall into your groove
move with you.
Match your bass
leave me open to reception.
I want you like this forever.
Loving you far into the night,
into the morning,
and beyond.
Spreading,
growing,
learning you.
Becoming a scholar of your ins and inbetweens,
so I can shout your name so loud the neighbors come knocking.
Just trying to understand what we have,
what we have is priceless,
although I pay for you,
go down to my last to satisfy my need for you,
and sometimes you give it up for free.
I love everything about you,
I rise and fall in you,
on you,
and with you.
I want this release,
new or otherwise,
for the rest of my life.

#3: Music As a Friend

Always there...
I mean always.
No fair weather.
Delivers like the mail man,
rain, sleet, hail, and snow.
I can't describe it,
and I can't escape it.
You change your clothes with my moods,
scream when I scream,
cry when I cry,
and make me laugh when I forget how.
I replay you,
over and over again,
so I can feel your emphasis,
memorize,
quote in a way so my jargon is palatable.
Sometimes I am chaotic,
moods up and down like the head nod to a perfect beat.
And you stay with me.
Even on those days when I don't know what I want,
just pass you by,
unsure, unable to commit,
and you simply find a way to comfort me.
There is no need for words with you.
You understand,
you know me, in all the right ways.
And this is why I love you.

Poem #2: Surrounded

I use to pride myself in being the dumbest one in my group. Wait, let me rephrase that. I like to surround myself with people who are smarter than me. Using their knowledge to increase the appearance of my own. A perennial perpetration of elevation, if you will. Trying, striving, wanting to be better, but falling short.

I have been deemed to have “potential.”

Is that meant to be a complement or an insult?

“She has great potential”

It’s like saying, “you could be good, but you’re not.” Potential is a hard word to live up to. All I think of when I hear that word is, that dream deferred. I am that raisin. I have that sun; I’ve birthed a stance of inequity. And inequity next to genius is stagnant. But the issue is that I can’t figure if that genius is mad, or hungry; knowing that an unfed understanding is a cancer rapidly expanding. Killing the cells of upward mobility, crippling them to the point where thirst for comprehension is left paraplegic.

So I limp.

Like Jacob touched by God.

My desires for betterment burn.

So I surround myself with better. I hope for a mob action of the mind. Wanting my arrested development to push me; urging my pride to be intact. Understanding that those around me are not smarter, but smart enough to keep me around. Hoping to no longer be strapped down with potential, but with released to realization.

Poem #1: Work in Progress

I'd be lying if I said I never doubt you, but
I know that I couldn't live without you
No, I couldn't breathe,
And I couldn't see,
I just wouldn't be
And why y'all would see
is an unwatered seed
Dried up in the weeds
and in dyer need
Of a soul to pray for me
Not a parable or a prophecy
Just using honesty
It's a virtue
Say em to yourself
Lies still hurt you
I've done my dirt too,
I still do it.
I see the stop sign and I,
I run through it
Taking risks, I'm afraid to quit
But it's God's plan I should fight to fit
So the world loosens it's grip
And I can add brick my brick
To this single foundation
And at the next crosswords I'll pass with no citation
So I look forward to next time.
And while I force this rhyme
And leave hyperbole out of this diction
The non-fiction I must confess
Is that I am, and always will be a work in progress

Doing More...

I need to get back to writing. It's so funny how you get this degree, and then you get a job, and that degree tends to move down on the importance-meter. Not saying that I don't use tools that my classes taught me in my every day life, I do, but I'm not writing, I'm not reading, I'm not in a constant stream of education like I was in College. I miss it. I miss it so much I wish I could go back to school just to taste it. But what I'm beginning to realize is that I don't need school for that, I just need time and effort. So I'm challenging myself to create a poem a week, however wack it might be, just to get myself in the mood. What that gives me is around 50 poems. So lets get to work.