Making Love With Music

This was one of the first poems I posted on WordPress.
I don’t do a lot of re-posting, but a post by one of my friends reminded me of it,
and I thought it could use another airing.
Thank you for reading.

Making Love With Music At Shag Phelps' birthday bash, in a small dark bedroom, on the far end of Alan's trailer, we found ourselves laughing and naked, doing the dirty dance to a drum solo, and strains of electric mystic Iron Butterfly 'In-A-Godda-Da-Vida, baby…' Flashes of strobe and heady weed streamed through a carelessly ajar door. The earth swirled and tilted when I arched backward, just to hear you swear as my hair tickled the bare tops of your thighs. 'Oh won't you come with me...' Thirty years later, a soft country ballad is mingled with snoring before the first verse leads to pause. In still darkness I walk through this big house alone, while ghosts taunt from shadows. 'and walk this land…' I put the album carefully in place, turn the volume to an unfamiliar low, and close my eyes to drink the music. If I lean way back in a younger woman's arch, I can almost feel the hair that is no longer there tickle the skin of my bare and lonely waist. 'Please take my hand…' Shirley Alexander © 2005

14 Comments

Filed under mature, memories, poetry

14 responses to “Making Love With Music

  1. Exotic and stimulating first few lines, bring my memories flooding my thoughts. Those were the days, my friend we thought . . . I can’t be saddened by the thirty year since Iron Butterfly, for you have those memories. True, they aren’t like reality, Shirley, but a lot of people don’t even have those kinds of memories to fall back on. I’ll never forget the season of live. I was there. San Fran. L.A. New York.And points in between. I have my memories and they are good to me on many an occasion. Nice repost.

    • Thank you, Jerry. When I look back now, the me I see in memory seems like a different person. I think she would be surprised, and maybe a little disappointed, at where the road has led us. Though her dreams were not built on reality, she remains a part of me, and it is her creative force which drives me to write, paint, draw, and sometimes dance. I will never forget the season either. We danced. *smile*

  2. It’s good to see you posting something again. Your verses have such a natural voice, following an intuitive rhythm, and letting the mood and the theme slowly establish themselves. This one is as beautiful as the others.

  3. Ted

    If you only had a clue how I can relate to this..I’ve been trying to get back with my Ex from years ago and for a year it was good and then the old crept in with the new and it’s just sad. Seems I want to go back and do it right but she wants to go back and do the same as she did before. I quit drinking and she started. Life seems so out of cycle to me. Thanks for the moment. I’ve been writing memories lately. The need to type caught me last night and I hope It has captured you again. Love your poems.

    • Thank you, Ted. And, with what I know of you from our online conversations on MySpace (a while back), and on Facebook, I think I do have a clue how you can relate. You are right. Those memories, like most of the ones we keep, are for touching warmth, not for living in the now. It’s like a polished stone we keep in our pocket and reach in to feel the smooth surface from time to time and allow it to soothe our spirit. Trying to go back and make that stone into a mountain to climb again never works. I wish you luck in your efforts to win your lady back on better terms.

  4. This poem is well worth a re-post. I remember it very well.

    I love the way you capture the exuberance, the devil-may-care attitude of those days.
    And then make the poem bitter/sweet by bringing us up to the current day.

    It always serves to provoke my own memories. 🙂

    I hope you are taking care of yourself.

    Much love
    Irish

    • David, I thought you might remember. It was your post which prompted me to re-air this poem. I am pleased if it provoked (good, I hope) memories for you.
      I am well, and I am grateful to be well. Life still sings outside my door, and sometimes invites me to listen and hum along. What more could anyone want?

      Much love to you too, my friend,
      Shirley

  5. Ina

    Hi Shirley
    thank you for your comment on my blog. I like the sexy poem here, I hope you will publish more in future. 🙂

  6. Hi Shirley,
    I have missed your poetry and your talent for creating such vivid images with your words. This is most worthy of re-post. It’s evocative and really draws one back into that space of memory where the bittersweetness holds you in that moment of nostaliga that re-captures a moment with so much feeling.
    Thank you for re-posting such a great poem. I hope you have been well? I hope too we get to see some more of your wonderful poems again in the future. 🙂

    with much love
    Tikarma.
    xoxo

    • Tikarma, I do hope you are relaxing and taking care of yourself. I have been thinking of you a lot lately, and I hope your sugery/recovery goes smoothly.
      Thank you for the kind words regarding my poetry. I have been writing more lately, but I am interested in getting more my better poetry published. Many of the better publications here will not accept work if it has been put online. I will repost some others, from long ago, maybe re-done a bit, later.

      Much love to you, my friend.
      Shirley
      xoxo

  7. Elaine Randall English

    Breaks my heart….

    • Those three words say a lot to me, Elaine. I know you understand this poem.

      I learned a lot of lessons from the two men in this poem. Yes, my first and second husbands. The first one, though he did awaken the woman in me and helped me emerge from the innocent girl I was before I married, he was abusive, and the nine years I was married to him almost destroyed my spirit. The second one was a womanizer. I lost count of all the other women. He destroyed my ability to trust. Too many years spent “losing myself” here, and I still have a lot to heal. In the end, I think I would make the same choices if given a chance. Anything changed might also change the fact that I have these wonderful children and grandchilden. I love them very much, and they make everything in my life worthwhile.

      Also, it is my opinion that the trials we suffer help us grow more than the joys. I think most of the better poets are born from sorrow and pain. Pain, as an emotion, makes us reach deeper inside ourselves. Surviving that pain builds character and and helps us appreciate life in general.

      Thank you for reading, and for understanding.
      Shirley