Thursday, January 8, 2015

Lies I Tell Myself

Born to make up stories,
here's one I told myself
last night
so as not to cry,
crying upsets my new puppy.

I told myself whoppers
just as if I were a country rube;
stuff about wooden porches,
citronella torches,
and a '64 Pontiac painted custom blue.

I'm old
and will just get more so;
any warm body I'm likely to touch,
lay down with me a good long while ago.
But Goddess bless lies,
cos Jesus loves a little yarn.

So I told myself
--on a particularly lonely night--
--so as to spare puppy any perplexity--
that it was sweet July
and a baby blue beauty had just come for me up the gravel way.

I was about to say
that the driver, with her arm stretched lazy across the wheel,
was Emmylou;

but no.
I made it better.
She was you.

For Corey at Real Toads. He said to write about your first car, but mine was just a nondescript hand-me-down on its last legs, so I have written about something else, but still a car. I don't think Corey will take away my lily pad for this small infraction, will he?



TexWisGirl said...


Cloudia said...

A lovely lovely well balanced poem of word and heart. But your days are not done. Amazing surprises occur at every age - trust me on this. Though in winter, in one's cocoon, others do seem planets away.

Luv ya! (and the Skit)

ALOHA from Honolulu

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Oh I so resonate..........right there with you, kiddo.........and how I love But no. I made it better. She was you.

In a perfect world, my friend, it would be.

Susan said...

Nicely wound up so the yarns/lies are indistinguishable from truth. Maybe the puppy is real; maybe she and the narrator can grow older together.

Kenn Merchant said...

I can relate with this poem because I get lonely sometimes, even when surrounded with family. Sometimes we just want someone to take us away from the same old same old. I would have jumped up and ran away soon as I saw that blue vehicle pull up that gravel driveway.

Björn Rudberg said...

Ah.. this is perfect, and you have attached my favorite song as well.. Sometimes we have to tell those little lies to make it all better don't we?

hedgewitch said...

This reminds me of another song Emmy Lou sings superlatively, 'Making Believe.' Sometimes it is 'all we can do.'

Anonymous said...

The most touching sections are your motherly instinct toward your new puppy, the bygone warm bodies, and the ending. But I'm particularly fond of these words:
"I told myself whoppers
just as if I were a country rube"

Gail said...

I think we all told ourselves tall tales.

Great read.

Lolamouse said...

Those last lines....
Never mind the puppy, you made me cry!

Kerry O'Connor said...

This poem is really bitter-sweet, about the endurance of the spirit as the body ages. So much changes but more remains the same.

my heart's love songs said...

LOVE the ending, SP!

but don't give up on warm bodies just yet ~ it's never too late..... well, okay, if YOUR body's gone cold it IS too late but any time before that there's always a chance of something unexpected coming your/our way.

{i don't know if that's called hope or unrealistic expectations on my part, but your boobies are waaaay younger than mine so you still have a chance.}

Anonymous said...

A treat to read and love the ending.

Susie Clevenger said...

Great ending! There are plenty of tears in my stories that might make a puppy cry.

Sioux said...

Better than Emmylou? Is there such a person? ;)

Herotomost said...

Hell no, I will build you an addition just for being you ... Oh and so I can and stay for the weekend and we can write and then watch reruns of Penny Dreadful. I'll bring Done as only you can, with the eye of the alive and enlightened. Loved this.

Margaret said...

Born to make up stories - what a great opening and the puppy… need photos. I will have to go look to see if you've posted any.

laughed at "Jesus loves a little yarn"… I certainly hope so :)

Anonymous said...

A sweet poignant poem that those of us with puppies or pontiacs only in the distant past can especially relate to. k.

Marian said...

awww. gosh, so nice.

Mama Zen said...

Gorgeous, Shay. Beautiful, sensual, moody; I love it.

mac said...

I prefer to think of them as "things not yet happened".

The pup knows it, too.

Sara said...

This is a wonderful love poem:~)

Thank goodness for the stories we tell ourselves to keep from crying. It touched me that you did so to keep one little puppy from crying, as well.