The power of these words

[Robby Baby (Poet of Amour)]

I love you...
what a power these three words have,
in all facets of our sacred lives,
in all the sorrow,
all the joy,
and all the strife.

I ascended this earthy sphere one day,
and my soul,
it was sent to wander to see,
the mystery of loves grace of power of eternity,
by a force I know not what,
a force that made me the messenger,
so that others may see,
what it is that love has been,
what it is that it has been meant to be.

This soul,
this drifting stranger,
it drifted into a kitchen
where a wife,
a woman who so loved her man,
lay tumbled and wretched upon the cold kitchen floor,
pool of blood laying by her slitted wrists,
for she just heard that her husband died...
and then her husband burst in,
NO!! he screamed,
the reports were wrong!
oh, God! I tried to come here in time,
but now you lay here dying upon the cold kitchen floor,
his was heart breaking seeing his wife like this,
the woman that he did so utterly adore,
and all he saw throughout all of this,
was the single tear that issued from her right eye.

This soul,
it saw the glowing materinity of a pregnant wife,
as her husband rushed with her to the hospital for the miracle of birth,
the circle of life continuing with husbands seed and wifes womb,
this loving couple was rushed to a cold and sterile hospital room,
that would be filled with warmth of love,
as her husband yells PUSH PUSH!! I love you dear! You can do it!

This soul,
it saw the adopted son of a loving father,
this son going through kemo,
this son that was not of his blood,
but this father.
he still chose with love,
this brother in humanity,
with his love to flood.

This wandering soul,
it saw all these preludes,
this mysterious web of love and life,
of death and strife,
it saw all these people hurtling towars a common destination,
as they were rushed to the same floor of the same hopsital,
the web of love and life,
of death and strife,
borne upon this earth.

This soul,
it went to room of the wife that slit her writs,
this wife that went past the wife now giving birth,
...she shall never again know this mirth,

In this room did she reside,
the blips sounding on the life support machine,
blips of fading hope,
fading upon a hopes radar screen,
her husband crying,
as he tightens his eyes,
as these blips recede,
getting smaller and smaller,
now barely heard or seen.

This soul,
it went to where the wife was giving birth,
the warmth of love filling that sterile room,
the cries of newborn life so warm,
the universes boon.

This soul it went to where the boy did lay,
recieving kemo to extend his struggling life another day,
this son not born of common blood,
but common human birth,
as his adopted father clasps his hands with love and care,
doing his best to allay his adopted sons now growing despair.

These souls,
they heard soliloquies of love and life,
of death and strife,
and these words this soul did hear:

My wife,
why did you have to end your life?
Why could you not have held on for another day,
so that with me for a few more years on this earth you could with me reside and stay?

My wife,
I love the life you now give to both of us,
this life that is the both of us,
this newborn life that shares our name,
this life born of our blood the same,
I care for you more than life itself,
I'd sacrifice my life,
simply so that you could be my wife.

My son,
I love you,
though you are not born my lifes blood,
I love you like you are my very son,
I pray that this ravage in your body does subside,
so that you may remain my adopted son,
the son that replaced the one that died with my wife at birth.

And than the soul heard the denoumont of all these verses,
the end of these verses that are the words that hope nurses:

Room 101

I love you

Room 102

I love you

Room 103

I love you...

[Robby Baby (Poet of Amour)]

:) This was a venture for me, a new one, yes. Yesterdays broadcast on blogtalkradio.com at speakeasy cafe has me speaking this. I actually yelled NO! so loud that I heard an echo! People said right away that this was different for me, as it is more a story, also that it is sad. Actually, I will recite this for one more person, the person who's track inspired it (that track is played at last weeks show, the same show, at the beginning). I find that sad is not my vibe. I have sadness in me and such as does everyone else, but me espousing it this way, and sometimes in general, is not my vibe. The poem actually, didn't make me feel too good, to be honest. I'm glad, though, that I am someone who doesn't want to give off negative vibes.

Thanks for all your commentary. We are both commited commentators to our stuff, eh?

[Romantic Poetess]

or should I perhaps say story poem :)

[Romantic Poetess]

Life is a continuum of forces that attach us to our bonds of love…it’s beautiful in many ways….then…oh then…loss happens…loss on a platform of physicality’s, not spiritually…
It is also the gamut of life to take from us the very breadth of existence for the values of encircling the beginning to the end of another beginning…loss is always a sorrow, but rejoicing in the gift of life is priceless. This reminded me of a movie I watched where this man Actor: Will Smith searched for certain people whom were good people that he could alter their lives in a very profound way with a gift. It all started with his loss of his wife through a tragedy of death….it was a very moving movie…
I think trying new things in poetry is awesome….your poem shows us this spiritual & emotional circle of life & bounties of love, even through death to experience rebirth!

[Robby Baby (Poet of Amour)]

Oh yes...I am hoping I can use my photographer friends wife pic of a hand holding a piece of paper saying I love you, inspired by an event in the novel 1984, a secret I love you note.

[Robby Baby (Poet of Amour)]

This was inspired by an utterly beautiful song that was played at the speakeasy cafe on blogtalk radio at the beginning of the show, the July.26 show. It is written, I believe, I performed by a poet named Apollo. This is unlike anything I've ever written. I don't usually have this much sadness in my poems.

Apollo said he might said he might send the instrumental track version of the spoken word piece. Please let me know what you all think, as this is a bit of a poetic venture outside the lines for me.