Chicago_Michelle@Yahoo.com

Hi—My name is Michelle Marie and welcome to Home Page

Getting to know the girl inside Michelle

If one thousand men

walking through this world

room to room to room

then home again

ask the favor of

your friendship

know that I am one

within the thousand.

 

If one hundred men

making do within this world

in city places

or the kindest country

fall down fighting for

 your friendship

know I am on the battlefield

amid the hundred.

 

If twenty men

who know and knew this world

from crested hills

to uncrowned valley

send letters breathing friendship

expect my letter soon

among the twenty.

 

If one man

living in this too-grey world

 

running crooked roads

or pacing pavements

comes in need of friendship

be not amazed or disbelieve,

I am that one man.

 

If no one comes to you

carrying a new world

in his arms or at his back

in a rolling wagon

offering it to you out of friendship

know that I have been detained

but even now am on my way.

 

Still no one comes

to you within this world

when two dozen years

of half of that has passed

and you feel friendless

come and seek me out

for I'll be lifeless in a grave

 and gone.

 

Perhaps you were hiding

or concerned with other

larger things

but know that while I lived

I went on looking.

The Heart Of A Woman…

 

They smile when they want to scream.

They sing when they want to cry.

They cry when they are happy

And laugh when they are nervous.

They fight for what they believe in.

They stand up against injustice.

They don't take "no" for an answer

When they believe there is a better solution.

They go without new shoes

So their children can have them.

They go to the doctor

With a frightened friend.

They love unconditionally.

They cry when their children excel

And cheer when their friends get awards.

They are happy when they hear

About a birth or a new marriage.

Their hearts break when a friend dies.

They have sorrow at the loss of a family member,

Yet they are strong when they think

There is no strength left.

They know that a hug

And a kiss

Can heal a broken heart.

Women come in all sizes,

In all colors and shapes.

They'll drive, fly, walk, run or e-mail you

To show how much they care about you.

The heart of a woman is what makes the world spin!

Women do more than just give birth.

They bring joy and hope.

They give compassion and ideals.

They give moral support to their family and friends.

Women have a lot to say and a lot to give.

 

Aren't Women Wonderful?

People with flowers are always going somewhere...
to a church...
to a wedding...
to a graveyard.

Home.
To try to make their empty lives as full as blossoms.

I like people with flowers
because they’re trying...
because they haven’t given up.

There was a time you used to fill my room with lilacs.
Your smiles were as bright as birthday wrapping paper.
Your touch was like the angel cake you tried to make but couldn’t.

Even if we lived on delicatessen dreams at least we lived together and every day opened up like a flower for us.

When spring comes I’ll plant some marigold just so I can watch them grow.

Then I can join the flower people too.

Love is such a fragile thing. It always is; it never was. It is self-assured, misunderstood. It wants to be an anchor but resents the chain. It takes liberties while vowing to stay true. It exaggerates while feigning chaste demureness.


It drives when it should walk, leaps when it should crawl, and flies without a single lesson. It pretends when it is not, doesn’t know when is. It pleasures me, ignores another. It insults me and curtsies to one just behind.

Love is real while being false. It waltzes by, never turns while turning, turning on itself. It is alive and dead, revived, and lives again. It is granted to those who wait. Perhaps. It is wishes, dreams, sometimes even actuality.

It is a supernova streaking while being only superficial. Officially it is meant to bind. But will not do so without help. It can save you, enslave you . . . but never from yourself. Love, the beginning of the end, the end as a beginning.

Don't hurry spring
the wind still trembles
in the empty trees
and dead geraniums stand still
in Spanish Harlem window boxes.
Another week perhaps
when skaters leave the pond.

Now for awhile longer
we can have the park to ourselves.

I need a while more with you just now,
there are some things
I don't yet know.

Do you like the color blue
           do I worry you when I frown
where were you
when I was growing up and needed somebody?

I put a seashell to my ear and it all comes back; the yellow sun . . .the Mediterranean blue, the sky, the children running on the beach that day, the kildear birds marching in formation down to the sea, and back - when my memory wanders, as it does when bad things happen, I put a seashell to my ear and it all comes back; that day . . .you.

Even the gypsies. It all comes back. You see what loving does; it makes you trust in horoscopes, and gypsy wands and fortune tellers, and even seashells.

I still believe in love. It's hard these days you know, and yet it's still the great adventure; better than blowing bridges or a bus ride to Chicago. Even better than running away from home . . .to . . . join the gypsies.