Thursday, June 25, 2009

Long Distance Love

Long Distance Love
*****************

BY: Keith H. Seymour
*********************
You are here…
I am there.
Our physical senses are unable to perceive
The existence of one another.
Yet, somehow…
Our hearts and souls
Concurrently and consistently
Do.

The words we have written
Have never been expressed by our lips.
Yet, though separated by land masses and ocean depths
The selfless passions we have for one another
Never seem unable to overcome these barriers

Still, these facts… make it no less painful to me,
To know
That we must impatiently wait
To join our lives,
So they may from then on match
Our already conjoined… souls and hearts.

Saturday, June 13, 2009

High School Daze

High School Daze
***************
BY: Keith H. Seymour
*******************

I walked past the old high school the other day,
and thought of you.
Not the high school where we met…
But the one on the other side of town,
That you transferred to a year later
After
Your father got a job
As music minister at the church, next to the school
That I walked past… the other day.

As I walked past the high school
The other day, I remembered… our first date,
and how
as I looked into your brown eyes
you told me
the difference between a French horn, and a tuba.
I think that was because
I thought I could impress you by pointing out
The presence of a tuba that hung upon the restaurant
wall.
I was wrong.
It was a French horn.

I even remember what happened that summer day
that you came to my house to go swimming.
We went swimming.
And afterwards… I shyly told you
how much I adored your… freckles,
as I presented you with your favorite flowers-pink roses.
However, you replied that
we should just remain good friends.
While remembering that day,
I recalled your favorite perfume-“Misty Tea Rose.”
Although, the memory of its scent
Unfortunately eluded me.

What I did remember at the time, though
was that even then …
I knew that my feelings of love for you were real.
I knew this because,
that day I silently forgave you for breaking my heart.
Besides,
why else would I have sacrificed blood, And risked death
by raiding my mother’s “precious flower garden,”
for… a couple of stupid flowers-except for true love.
So thanks, thanks for the memory.

So, I hear that you’re an English teacher now.
Could it be true, that just as I once did,
some “other” high school boy
has now fallen in love
with you?

Anyway, I walked past the old high school the other day,
and wondered ,as I now often do.
I wondered… whether the sun still gave you those freckles.
And if you still loved pink roses, and a perfume
of Rose and Misty Tea.
But most importantly,
I wondered ...if you
ever thought about,
or even remembered... me.
As I walked past the high school...the other day.














High School Daze
***************
BY: Keith H. Seymour
*******************

I walked past the old high school the other day,
and thought of you.
Not the high school where we met…
But the one on the other side of town,
That you transferred to a year later
After
Your father got a job
As music minister at the church, next to the school
That I walked past… the other day.

As I walked past the high school
The other day, I remembered… our first date,
and how
as I looked into your brown eyes
you told me
the difference between a French horn, and a tuba.
I think that was because
I thought I could impress you by pointing out
The presence of a tuba that hung upon the restaurant
wall.
I was wrong.
It was a French horn.

I even remember what happened that summer day
that you came to my house to go swimming.
We went swimming.
And afterwards… I shyly told you
how much I adored your… freckles,
as I presented you with your favorite flowers-pink roses.
However, you replied that
we should just remain good friends.
While remembering that day,
I recalled your favorite perfume-“Misty Tea Rose.”
Although, the memory of its scent
Unfortunately eluded me.

What I did remember at the time, though
was that even then …
I knew that my feelings of love for you were real.
I knew this because,
that day I silently forgave you for breaking my heart.
Besides,
why else would I have sacrificed blood, And risked death
by raiding my mother’s “precious flower garden,”
for… a couple of stupid flowers-except for true love.
So thanks, thanks for the memory.

So, I hear that you’re an English teacher now.
Could it be true, that just as I once did,
some “other” high school boy
has now fallen in love
with you?

Anyway, I walked past the old high school the other day,
and wondered ,as I now often do.
I wondered… whether the sun still gave you those freckles.
And if you still loved pink roses, and a perfume
of Rose and Misty Tea.
But most importantly,
I wondered ...if you
ever thought about,
or even remembered... me.
As I walked past the high school...the other day.














High School Daze
***************
BY: Keith H. Seymour
*******************

I walked past the old high school the other day,
and thought of you.
Not the high school where we met…
But the one on the other side of town,
That you transferred to a year later
After
Your father got a job
As music minister at the church, next to the school
That I walked past… the other day.

As I walked past the high school
The other day, I remembered… our first date,
and how
as I looked into your brown eyes
you told me
the difference between a French horn, and a tuba.
I think that was because
I thought I could impress you by pointing out
The presence of a tuba that hung upon the restaurant
wall.
I was wrong.
It was a French horn.

I even remember what happened that summer day
that you came to my house to go swimming.
We went swimming.
And afterwards… I shyly told you
how much I adored your… freckles,
as I presented you with your favorite flowers-pink roses.
However, you replied that
we should just remain good friends.
While remembering that day,
I recalled your favorite perfume-“Misty Tea Rose.”
Although, the memory of its scent
Unfortunately eluded me.

What I did remember at the time, though
was that even then …
I knew that my feelings of love for you were real.
I knew this because,
that day I silently forgave you for breaking my heart.
Besides,
why else would I have sacrificed blood, And risked death
by raiding my mother’s “precious flower garden,”
for… a couple of stupid flowers-except for true love.
So thanks, thanks for the memory.

So, I hear that you’re an English teacher now.
Could it be true, that just as I once did,
some “other” high school boy
has now fallen in love
with you?

Anyway, I walked past the old high school the other day,
and wondered ,as I now often do.
I wondered… whether the sun still gave you those freckles.
And if you still loved pink roses, and a perfume
of Rose and Misty Tea.
But most importantly,
I wondered ...if you
ever thought about,
or even remembered... me.
As I walked past the high school...the other day.



Keith H. Seymour is a freelance writer, poet, media consultan currently living in Columbia, South carolina. He is available for poetry readings, appearances at schools, workshops, and tutoring. He may be reached at 803-960-8785 or at keithhseymour@Bellsouth.net

Friday, June 12, 2009

The Gardner and the Blossom

The Gardner and the Blossom
************************
BY: Keith H. Seymour
*******************
Writer's note: This poem is dedicated to my mother Particia Ann Seymour( Nee' Bollig)
(Aug 12,2008)
It was just recently, that…
I saw the white azaleas outside,
And thought of…
How dried and dead they looked.
So often like my own life,
Since she left me.
It happened following her special day.
It was almost a year ago,
That I last saw the azaleas outside.

Even alive and mixed
With others of red and pink,
And flowers of marigold,
I would not have been satisfied
When I had seen…
The white azaleas outside.

No gardener could adopt or love
Any flower,
The way that she adopted this flower
With her mixture of love, discipline and affection.
Just as she had done with those
That sprang and blossomed
From her own natural seed.
I recalled how much I missed
Her nurturing element,
When…
I saw the white azaleas outside,

The perfect gardener has ceased to exist,
Still, the spirit that she created
Within this cross-bred blossom
Will always persist.
So I know I see,
The white azaleas…inside
Of me.

The Familiar Stranger

The Familiar Stranger
*****************************
I met a stranger recently,
his presence...
hard to ignore
I recognized this stranger,
as if we'd met before.
I recognized his features:
his face, his form,
and even the way he wore his hair.
Yet, as to our specific meeting,
I recalled not when or where!

So I decided I'd been mistaken,
or our acquaintance was long ago.
Also concluding,
surely this individual
was too unimportant
Even for me to ever know.

He appeared again late
and it really bothered
that this seemingly trivial person
was once ever known to me!?
Who was this person
whose image within my mind
was embedded so very deep?
Who was this individual
constantly haunting my waking hours,
and so often times... My sleep!

My Answer?
I decided that if we had met before,
acknowledging ambitions and obligations
was the far more important chore.
So finally, I told him,
"Look later I'll deal with you.
Right now I have more important people to patronize,
and far more important things to do!"
So we he continued to bother me,
I had not the slightest clue

Then, after his appearances persisted
over a period of...
well, some great length,
I suddenly recognized... his enviable characteristics
of serenity, confidence, and deep inner-strength.

It was only then
that this familiar stranger
chose to reveal himself to me.
Stating: Aren’t you yet aware?
I am no stranger that you see.
Rather, I am...
what we now know as
that self-neglected part of...
ME."

Keith H. seymour is a freelance Writer, poet and media consultant, currently living in Columbia, S.C. He is available for poetry readings, tutoring, speaking engagements at schools, and consultations with fellow writers and artists. He may be reached at 803-960-8785 or keithhseymour@bellsouth.net

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Bahala na

Bahala Na
**********
By Keith H. Seymour
******************
Writer’s note: Bahala Na is a Filipino phrase that means “Come What May,” or “What ever God wishes for this time. It is roughly equal to the Spanish Phrase: “Que sera sera.”

Everything is copy written under my name.

Why couldn’t I tell you...
What others tried to tell me?
Why didn’t I know?
Or rather,
Why was I afraid to know… intellectually?
Though, I guess saying anything now,
Won’t matter… It is just too late.
Yet saying what I feel… is something that I must now do.

I thought time and distance
(But I was wrong)
would help me to forget
about my lack of courage… concerning a matter of the heart.
After all, didn’t you have the right to know…
and respond?
Even if you did reject me?
Then again, after all of this time
Do I have the right to let you know?
All I only know
Is that something in me impels me to confess all of this…
to you.

I know your heart has been given to someone else,
and Still, I have no regrets of knowing you as a friend.
I hope that even in the unfortunate happenstance
That we never meet again; you will still feel the same.
So please always know, that each day
I pray you experience eternal health, happiness, romance, and love.
As for any romance that may exist for me?
Well… Bahala Na.

Keith H. Seymour is a local freelance writer and poet. He may be reached at 803-233-9622, or E-mailed at keithhseymour@bellsouth.net or keithhseymour@bellsouth.net