Mermaid Verse

music flows from lips and as words meet sound bound and found me, your eyes wide open, soul sprightly greeting thee….


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My Heart is Set on You (or Never Ever Fall in Love with a Rockstar) by Megan Seaman

Heart on fire

Heart on fire

My heart is set on you

My heart is set on you

Though you do not care that I exist

Though I send you lollipops like you wish

Though my fragile tissue may gushingly bleed

Though you think you have all you need

Though she sings the songs you passionately sing

Though you’ve given her that diamond ring

Though what I say might sound disturbing

Though I’ll take a hundred years discerning

Though the truth is yet disappointingly unknown

Though you won’t call me on your telephone

Though we live miles and miles apart

Though the distance is long to make a start

Though it rains cold drops on Monday morning

Though it persists through evening violently storming

Though when the sun comes it is wondrously warm

Though the light reveals the drapes now torn

Though what I might say doesn’t mean a thing

Though you care not for gifts I bring

Though I will never feel the touch of your hand

Though we will never go the places I plan

Though the Universe is wide and wild and expanding

Though I’ll see you on that street corner standing

Though our eyes will meet in some seraphic way

Though at a moments pause you will turn and look away

My heart is set on you

My heart is set on you

My poor old lonely heart is set on you.

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I speaking those – I now silent (12-18-13)

Dream Doodle

Dream Doodle

“I looked at the reflection in the oven

I wore the dream, I heard the dream, I looked the dream straight in the face

 

Speaking of dreams you said it dimmed

Speaking of times passed way down and gone into endless oblivion

 

Those eyes they glimmered

Those eyes they beamed and pierced even through the complementary colors of the MAGazine

 

I wish on the lonely star shivering out there

I wasted my only breath on silly dreams of a silly girl unwilling to give up silly visions

 

Now here in the wee hours of stillness

Now there you are singing or something with clowns and circus performers of amazing feats!

 

Silent intentions small and secret hidden warm

Silent sighs to the soul who only answers, “someday, someday, someday…” by Megan Seaman


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Mr. Wilson’s Thoughts Late Saturday Night (11-30-13) by Megan Seaman

“I don’t know where to begin. I asked the questions and no answer yet. Still waiting. I feel really gaseous. I just farted. I’m looking at the ember colored wall and have the Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young version of “Only Love Can Break Your Heart” in my head. I don’t know if it is CSNY or just Neil Young who created the song.  I think about this girl with glasses, this songbird, this creative soul about a million times a day. I keep wondering when she will call. And then even that question makes me sick. I feel, I think that I’m clinging to that idea – like clinging to a person. Like clinging to one person will make all my life happy forever. And I judge myself. So many judgments about how love is supposed to work, how people are supposed to notice each other, what kind of people date and get together with what type of people. And it aches my heart and makes me feel queasy inside. “Only love can break your heart/try to be sure right from the start.” Like one should try to control what love does to you. I once saw a clip from a movie I don’t remember what movie but a girl says to a guy that the most important thing to do in life is to fall in love and give your love. And the guy says, “no the most important thing in life is to get your heart broken over and over and over again.” That’s what makes life. I never thought about it that way.

I think we live in this ideal state – maybe it’s not we, maybe it’s just me – but we live in this ideal that we’ll find “the One” and then everything will be just dandy. And if it is already dandy then we’ll just be dandier. But if we follow the guy’s mantra “most important is to get your heart broken over and over again” then there’s a little more freedom in that. As if there isn’t one state of being, there are many possibilities – and to try them as they come up, rather than passing them by for some ideal. Not that I think people shouldn’t have ideals or dreams or goals or something to aspire to or some direction. On the contrary, I think that people do best when they have some place they’re pointed to and with effort and grace moving there. I think knowing what you want is half the battle. Knowing what you want helps you intentionally make decisions about how you want to spend your time, who you want to spend your time with, and where you want to be. It promotes motivation and perseverance toward something. However, getting so attached to some outcome (i.e., goal, aspiration, dream) can shift you out of the present moment where you need to be to see the steps that will take you to those ideals.

Keeping a wakeful eye on the future is so important, but even more imperative is our abilities to stay here-and-now. It’s really easy to say that, but harder to play out daily. That’s where the practice begins. Instead of being ruled by our feeling about what is going on in our lives, rather we could notice the thoughts – the habitual patterns of how we think, and then with intentionality choose the ones that bring us closer to our goals and release the ones that don’t serve us. Staying present allows us to see the signs, hear the songs, smell the roses, taste the nectar, and feel the closeness of everything we aspire to. On our journey to what we want, it’s the practice in falling down and getting our hearts annihilated that will Godspeed us to all that we dreamed. And so loving as long and wide as we can – even at the expense of a broken heart – might just break down the hardened walls around our love, and let the true self shine.” – Megan Marie Seaman


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Letter: You’ve Been Showing Up In My Dreams (8-28-13) by Megan Seaman

“My Dearest,

Hi. so it’s weird for me to connect with you

like this. I don’t have any of your contact info anymore.

but i knew where I could find you

in the world wide web.

I don’t really use this social media (my page is way out of date),

but I’m glad, i guess that this is a way to connect.

 

you’ve been showing up in my dreams

for the past month or two.

It’s weird because i haven’t thought about you

or any of that silly stuff in a longtime.

As dreams go, I usually dismiss them as old memories

or symbols or something.

but i thought this time,

i would just take the most obvious interpretation.

 

I don’t know why you’re coming up,

but you are. one of the dreams had you and her in it.

She was in a long lacy wedding dress

– a parade surrounded her –

i only supposed that it was your wedding.

it was a weird dream to have

– that one happened about one month back.

 

Then a day ago or so,

I saw our friend

posted a pic of the girl in white

at what looked like

a shower of sorts.

I can imagine it was her wedding shower.

which means

that you’ll be married soon.

 

well, i don’t know what else to say.

I really want you to be happy.

and i want me to be happy.

i think i’m happy.

but there’s a weird feeling

i get in my dreams

when i see you.

 

whatever.

i feel stupid for reaching out.

I guess i’ll just say one more thing

and then please don’t respond.

just be happy.

because I loved you. I really did.

and a part of me still does.

it’s a weird thing,

and i don’t know why i fell so hard.

maybe it was a rebound from a failed marriage,

maybe it was insecurities and wanting to cling to something.

or maybe it was just plain old love.

whatever it was, it was real.

 

i care for you,

although i really hope i never see you again

(the universe has done a good job of making that so).

But, with that said,

i do wish you so much

happiness and love.

 

be well and happy,

and free,

my friend.

love

always,

me” – Megan Marie Seaman


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I Am the Poet (July 29, 2013) by Megan Seaman

I am the poet, not the songwriter

Weaving words in perfect pattern

Like soft threads, golden and red

I sew the suit you wear.

 

You are the songwriter, not the poet

Silvery sounds are your guide

Harnessing hums of traveling tunes

You amuse me with your magic moods.

 

I am the poet, not the songwriter

Picking precisely each phrase

Crazed with analytic eye

Speaking how it feels inside.

 

You are the songwriter, not the poet

Like a dance routine or dramatic scene

Disguised calculation of emotional relation

You play the poems that arise.

 

Enticing player with sweet-sounding whine

Tell me your lies and I’ll listen

Very closely to each piece of fiction

Oh, promise you’ll lie.

‘cause what’s the use of truth

in this production put forth

skilled rendition of unvarnished life.

 

But, I am the poet, not the songwriter

With a wish he will listen to my bit of diction

And feel the warm blood that

Melts the ice.

 

And, you are the songwriter, not the poet

Blind to the rhyme, yet heedful to the tone

The music that opens what hides

Behind those sleepy blue eyes.


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B. Tucker My Dreamy Companion (7-8-13) by Megan Seaman

Music Man 5-7-4

Music Man 5-7-4

“And he said, “you know what it’s like? It’s like riding in your dad’s old beater car

Through crowds of teenagers, loud

Because the exhaust system had a hole in it

And you just wished that the ride would be over

‘cause you’d been ridin’ too long

and here you are, through this sea of young things

you are also a young thing

but you wish you were 20 years older and knew

how it all turned out.”

 

Blue was the sky that day when he told me about his disease, caught

while drifting on water

Hotter than the white hot ash smashed into the tray

Burned it did when it hit my skin, heart burned

And busted from dis-ease he gave me

Mouth to mouth resuscitation. No it wasn’t a kiss

Just a wish for life. Please ease me back to light, life

And it finally set in what the goggled-eyed man meant when the sputtering car

Stuttered through the crowd

Pain in my heart, tears down my face, caused by you… my only you.” – Megan Marie Seaman

 

 


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Things May Brings (6-1-2013) by Megan Seaman

May Geese

May Geese

“Sick in May

I’m not alone, but still and no one near

Feel hard cushion where my heart rests

Because I couldn’t guess your start.

Crazy, wasted, is how I am in times like these

Must be, to think the rainbow waves

And dream the smoke billows

That crowd around watercolor scenes

Ivory shows through strawberry skin

Delectable and sweet on the tongue.

 

Walked in the black-brown square

Stares from ghosts twenty years haunting

Clinging like lichen on the footsteps of

Redwood trees for just one taste –

Just one taste –  just one touch –  just one touch

Surviving the rain and weather

All together they swarm in their

Freakish strange haze of

Cloudy suffering

Wondering when roots would

Finally leave their established ground.

 

And they did. Stepped out into the rain

And hurried skipped across the road

Pushed open the door and

Strum and bow to notes of

Young lovers and looks

The Seers clapped to hear

The love sounds made, so intimate

So susceptible to the crowd’s simple whim

And they were proud, loud, in their

Quiet hayseed harmony, hope.

 

It’s the middle of the night and May

Turned into summer, with it’s sensual

Selfish burning every exposed inch of flesh

Blazing clouds and carefully created space

Pacing the dark paths with dewy green

Between bare toes, smell of earthy things

And I couldn’t see anything, but only

Sensed the open meadow

Out of the trees in moonlight

I saw something

Eyes blue bright.” – Megan Marie Seaman