Regarding the Man with the Bonsai Tree

You held life in dead hands
holding steady to the ideal of this man
who knew how to stick it out

Her purse on one shoulder and her coat on the other
one palm on her waist, an excuse to get closer
you held out the tree,to her disapproving composure

she smiled looking at the man across the row
he was giving his girlfriend a necklace, gold.
You'll never win her this way, you know.

Day Two

Wrote about a young kid yesterday...


constant connetion
technology at your fingertips
brain waves link airwaves link rays of radiation
text on scroll pages in pocket computers and mp3 players
block out the sound of real life that surrounds you
trade LOL with laughter leaving soul to mouth to earhole
the click of some buttons to the graze of rough skin
a virtual lifestyle from miles of unchartered brilliant earth
forgotten what real life is worth

Poem 1-A Man and a Perdicament

Here is the first bus poem, decided these will be unedited poems

he lightly kissed the heads of three children
tucked into wooden framed beds he built
before he would head into the darkened day

hes been here before,
surrounded but alone
wedding ring feeling misplaced on left hand ring finger,
and bus of early morning commuters watch him play content
crossword puzzless done in pen
beanies on heads to hide the cold
big hands take backpacks, wide backs give rides to small kids
tying him to this life while he thinks ' i could've been big'
slips off his wedding band, opens a magazine with his left hand and feels relief
when ladies smile he feels seen
not stuck with thinking 'this is life for me'

stopping to greet the woman in the high heeled shoe
he exists the bus daily to sit in a room selling things to people who would'nt know what to do with the product
another hiccup in society
dreams crushed under the rest of life's necessities
its demanding 'feed me' needs leaving him hungry and empty for the filling
bent on knees pleading for a break

Busy Bee and Resolutions

The time between then and now seems to have stretched a lifetime. I am changing, you are changing, the people we love are changing too.

It has been a little over a month since my last blog, bad I know, but life has a way of pulling your attention to places other than where you want it to be. Novemeber was National Novel Writing Month. I started off strong and determined to finish the race. Half way through the month a personal clamity struck in which everything I thought I stood for seemed to be questioned. I had always thought myself the strong person, with even stronger convictions, but I waivered in a situation that held universal sized importance. In my hesitance I failed a very percious friend. I stopped writing. To you, to myself, for NaNoWriMo. Depression reached a low I hadn't been at in years. I cried. Everyday and most of the night. I think I am back now, the guilt I feel i've been assured is unncessary and I am trying to be the person I have always hoped to be.
I am starting a new project for my poetry. I hope to list it here and on my site valerielongwriting.com, it will be a year of poetry inspired by the mass commuters I see on the bus everyday. This idea came to be when I first started riding the bus in August of this year. There were so many different types of people who all had a story, I wanted to write it for them. Particularly the girl in the yellow shoes, the one in the fishnet stockings, the man with the red nose, the couple with matching lip rings. They all had something to say, and I wanted to help them say it. So this year, for each day I am on the bus I will write about one person and their story, however fabricated it may be and I will post it for you. Its my way of saying thank you to diversity and to people for being beautiful and making me fall in love with you every day.