Poem: A Lullaby in Time of Plague

Poet Neophyte: Glen Fitch About Glen Fitch: Glen Fitch was born in Buffalo, New York where everyone bowls and it snows a lot. He went to college in the Catskills where everyone else skied or drank a lot. At the University of California at Riverside he hoped to study under an English professor, but she died just after he arrived. He moved to Santa Cruz, CA to join a group called "Men Against Rape." Kidney disease took his partner-in-life's-journey. He now sells shoes for Macy's in Monterey, CA and writes sonnets on his deck near the lighthouse. ------------------------- Sample Poems: Poem 1: THE JOY OF... I stroke the glossy spreads of dimpled skin. The flesh so ripe I almost smell and bite. Compulsion, passion, curse, addiction, sin! I drool at kneaded mounds of hot delight. The money, time, to feed this appetite! I seek detailed techniques, exotic schools. To whet, prolong, and savor I recite the age-old rites and catalogue my tools. I live a proxy life. Like other fools I file my clippings, downloads from the net, trade stained and greasy books with secret rules of what and when and how. I stare and sweat. This seems the only way I can appease my urge to cook. I lust for recipes. Poem 2: A LULLABY IN TIME OF PLAGUE Crawl in my arms and rest your head. My love, I will not lie to you. We both know we might soon be dead. Beneath my chin, love, tuck your head. There's nothing we can do instead And every day bring sorrows new. Above my heart now rest your head. You know I cannot lie to you. When you awake I won't be here. When I return you might not wake. But till you're fast asleep, my love, I'll hold you for love's sake. My love, there's nothing we can do, So why not get a little sleep? My love, I cannot lie to you. There just is nothing we can do, But tears and hugs can help, it's true. So feel my arms, my love and weep. You know there's nothing we can do. Let's try to get a little sleep. When you awake I won't be here. When I return you might not wake. But till you're fast asleep, my love, I'll hold you for love's sake. You're frightened, weary from the pain. If you feel pain you're still alive. Let's hope when dead it won't remain. I know you're desperate from the pain And wine tonight would numb the brain, But numb our love as well. So strive To feel my love, and feel the pain, So we will know we're still alive. When you awake I won't be here. When I return you might not wake. But till you're fast asleep, my love, I'll hold you for love's sake. ------------------ Poem 3: LINES WRITTEN ON A PAPER NAPKIN If you think I'm just going to go away, then you've got me all wrong. And if you bet I'll take offense or get discouraged, say "I'm done. I quit!" Then you don't know me yet. 'Cause I'm a salesman. Selling's in my core. 'And in the end, No matter what you sell you have to sell yourself.' Yes, I'm a bore. This is the only thing that I do well. But I'm not like the others of my tribe 'cause I'm not one to pressure or misguide, intimidate, or bargain, beat down, bribe. But shark or saint, a salesman has no pride. I'm still here. Even if you grow irate. 'Cause as a salesman I know how to wait. --------------- Poem 4: WANTED One Higher Power, understanding, kind, all knowing, patient, wise, forgiving, near, compassionate, attentive to mankind. more powerful than TV, peanuts, beer and sex. From you I'll ask but won't expect that miracle, (the little ones will do). Just so I'll pray you'll keep disasters checked, for justice, vision, peace and mercy, too. Adore me, keep me honest, make me laugh, feel needed, special, healed and whole. I need your silent help on my behalf to live, each day abstain, rebuild my soul. And what I am grateful for you'll hear from me on hold, while pumping gas, and as I pee. --------------- Poem 5: MY ARTHRITIS If once more I could move just as I please. Some days are not so bad. Some days I cry. You know, I feel it in my fingers, knees, My body's breaking down. I don't know why. Just thinking of the past makes me more ill. A future life of pain seems cruel and strange. And yet there comes a time when sitting still hurts more than getting up and facing change. The past is gone. I know it in my heart. And yet I long for you through out the day. I have to face a life with us apart. This is the hardest thing I'll ever say. I must move on. I need to set you free. I have to ask you not to talk to me. ----------------- ----------------- Glen Fitch's websites: please visit my blogs @: http://glenfitch.blogspot.com/ or http://www.writerscafe.org/poetry.php?action=search&user=7195 or http://blog.myspace.com/85297857