.
They were hydrogen.
He was nucleus
stable, self-contained,
she was electron
buzzing-surround
caught by attraction
held firmly in place
unable to split.
.
© 1982, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(re-post of a poem written in 1982)
.
Posted in Poetry 1980's, tagged attraction, chemistry, humor, hydrogen atom, Love, nucleus, orbit, passion, poem, Poetry, Relationships, science, splitting atoms on July 22, 2017| 15 Comments »
.
They were hydrogen.
He was nucleus
stable, self-contained,
she was electron
buzzing-surround
caught by attraction
held firmly in place
unable to split.
.
© 1982, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(re-post of a poem written in 1982)
.
Posted in Poetry 1960's, Poetry 1990's, tagged 1967, adventure, change, hippies, Love, passion, poem, Poetry, Relationships, spirit, Summer of Love, youth on June 15, 2015| 13 Comments »
(a collage of memories)
.
first love stuck
to the seat of the car
till Beach Boy good vibes
lit my quarter-carat ring
as it snagged on my impatience
and scratched at your freedom
and one rainy Monday Monday
in a miscarriage of spring
you returned it to the jeweler
who confessed the stone was flawed.
~
Ten stairs down
in a choke-filled, red-eye cave
we found a collage
of wine-bottle candles
and short black beards
where daddy-o played chess
and argued on absolute bongos,
and espresso-laced poets
beat cement floor philosophy,
and black leotards
on bar stools sang
in dilettante protest
till someone spun Baez
and laughed
when I just ordered tea.
~
No cooking in rooms,
we ate pop-tarts cold,
connected the dots
in philosophy
pretending to like home-made beer
and the rain fell
on Glen Yarborough
and we knew the war
wasn’t over
but Camus didn’t care
and Nietzsche’s God was dead
so we slid brown leaves
to the A & W
and waited for mail
from home.
~
It began in May,
that shoeless summer,
long hair hung low
between hot bikini tans,
salt water steamed
from our backs,
eyelashes and dimples
crossed the railroad tracks;
there were lines
and moves,
and always forget-me-nots
growing from our cleavage.
~
He followed me
to green music nights
to deep-lidded eyes
in bell-bottom mirrors
where we listened to Dylan
and danced to the Doors
and slid down the hill
playing and laughing
between tangled hair
and a purple-beaded dawn.
~
House-mother asleep
I slipped with you
in the bark-soft rain
up waterfalls
to your winking lake
where you wet my lips,
St. Christopher pressing
into my breast
and the red canoe
rocked over the edge,
smiling at
tomorrow’s raised brows.
~
He said he liked
the way I walked,
sang Dean Martin
with his motorcycle cocked
till I went with him
to Sehome Hill
and he stopped being Dean
and the meadow grew thorns
as he twisted my slap
grinding into the shock
knowing I’d never tell,
for back then
women blamed themselves.
~
Overheating,
your ‘59 Fairlane
got us there
to cruise Birch Bay
and puzzle over
the Ode to Billy Joe
and we answered yes
to Gracie Slick
while smokey sunsets
stopped the show
and you held your stomach in
as we laughed
across a Sunday-funny dream.
~
We rode the night
on magic carpet street signs
where Joni sang hair-flowers
and headband crochet,
and the Taco Time spilled
and stuck to bare legs
as I felt your jacket comfort
in Sergeant Pepper incense
and the pull
of your blue-light eyes.
.
© 1993, 2015 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(a re-post, originally written in 1993. It’s been 48 years, yet 1967 – especially that long, hot summer – is still a vivid memory. It was a time of great change, personally, socially, politically, and spiritually.)
“Echoes” was originally posted on my 1960’s blog – Summers of Love .
Posted in Poetry 1980's, tagged eagle, lioness, Love, Poetry, Relationships on September 28, 2012| 7 Comments »
Called the lioness to the eagle,
it’s time for you to fly,
I’ve wakened from my dream now
and we have to say goodbye.
Goodbye, goodbye, my playful friend,
you brought such joy to me
as you sang in the branches
of the sapodilla tree.
.
Sang the eagle to the lioness,
then why must it end?
Can’t we be friends forever
just like we’ve always been?
Could it be that I’ve hurt you
since I have another friend?
Is it because I’ve brought her here?
I cannot comprehend.
.
Called the lioness to the eagle,
how could you not know –
it hurts to see her fly with you
when I must stay below.
Now fly to your lofty cliffs
and let my heart be free
to make room for another
in the sapodilla tree.
.
Sang the eagle to the lioness,
this was our meeting ground.
We each brought many things to share,
this was our lost-and-found.
I found new things that I had missed,
and you found lost things too.
I’d hate to think that it’s all gone,
that now I have lost you.
.
Called the lioness to the eagle,
but you have found a mate.
You never understood my love,
you can’t reciprocate.
But I’ll still be your friend somehow,
my thoughts will fly to you
on a higher meeting ground somewhere –
goodbye, my friend. Adieu.
.
She watched him slowly turn away
and soar out to the sea
as her tears watered the roots
of the sapodilla tree.
.
© 1983, 2012 Betty Hayes Albright
Posted in Poetry 1980's, tagged eagle, lioness, Love, Poetry, Relationships on September 28, 2012| 12 Comments »
(This was first posted last November, as a lone poem – but there are two more parts I neglected to share – to follow.)
.
Called the lioness to the eagle,
let me fly with you
to your favorite places –
I long to see them too.
.
Sang the eagle to the lioness,
I’ll never have you here.
You’re stuck on terra firma,
gravity has made that clear.
.
Called the lioness to the eagle,
then nest down here with me.
You can have the highest branches
in the sapodilla tree.
.
Sang the eagle to the lioness,
it’s teeth and claws I fear.
I’m sorry, but the sky is safe
and I must stay up here.
.
Called the lioness to the eagle,
It’s safe here on the ground.
My paws have been declawed
and my teeth have been filed down.
.
Sang the eagle to the lioness,
your muscles frighten me.
Just one of your embraces
and I would cease to be.
.
Called the lioness to the eagle,
you won’t suffer my embrace.
I wouldn’t try to hold you
for I’ve given up the chase.
.
Sang the eagle to the lioness,
you’d hypnotize me then .
Your eyes have such charisma
that I’d ne’er be free again.
.
Called the lioness to the eagle,
I won’t gaze at you too long.
I could never mesmerize you
for your will is much too strong.
.
Sang the eagle to the lioness,
then I will be your friend
in the sapodilla tree
until the sky calls me again.
.
Purred the lioness to her heart,
we’ve won his trust this day.
She curled up underneath his wings
and hid desire away.
.
© 1982, 2011 Betty Hayes Albright
Posted in Poetry 1960's, Poetry 1990's, tagged 1960's, beatniks, decisions, hippies, Love, passion, Relationships on December 4, 2011| 22 Comments »
. . . . . (reposted from my 1960’s blog)
.
first love stuck
to the seat of the car
till Beach Boy good vibes
lit my quarter-carat ring
as it snagged on my impatience
and scratched at your freedom
and one rainy Monday Monday
in a miscarriage of spring
you returned it to the jeweler
who confessed the stone was flawed.
~
Ten stairs down
in a choke-filled, red-eye cave
we found a collage
of wine-bottle candles
and short black beards
where daddy-o played chess
and argued on absolute bongos,
and espresso-laced poets
beat cement floor philosophy,
and black leotards
on bar stools sang
in dilettante protest
till someone spun Baez
and laughed
when I asked for just some tea.
~
No cooking in rooms,
we ate pop-tarts cold,
connected the dots
in philosophy
pretending to like home-made beer
and the rain fell
on Glen Yarborough
and we knew the war
wasn’t over
but Camus didn’t care
and Nietzsche’s God was dead
so we slid brown leaves
to the A & W
and waited for mail
from home.
~
It began in May,
that shoeless summer,
long hair hung low
between hot bikini tans,
salt water steamed
from our backs,
eyelashes and dimples
crossed the railroad tracks;
there were lines
and moves,
and always forget-me-nots
growing from our cleavage.
~
He followed me
to green music nights
to deep-lidded eyes
in bell-bottom mirrors
where we listened to Dylan
and danced to the Doors
and slid down the hill
playing and laughing
between tangled hair
and a purple-beaded dawn.
~
House-mother asleep
I slipped with you
in the bark-soft rain
up waterfalls
to your winking lake
where you wet my lips,
St. Christopher pressing
into my breast
and the red canoe
rocked over the edge,
smiling at
tomorrow’s raised brows.
~
He said he liked
the way I walked,
sang Dean Martin
with his motorcycle cocked
till I went with him
to Sehome Hill
and he stopped being Dean
and the meadow grew thorns
as he twisted my slap
grinding into the shock
knowing I’d never tell,
for back then
women blamed themselves.
~
Overheating,
your ‘59 Fairlane
got us there
to cruise Birch Bay
and puzzle over
the Ode to Billy Joe
and we answered yes
to Gracie Slick
while smokey sunsets
stopped the show
and you held your stomach in
as we laughed
across a Sunday-funny dream.
~
We rode the night
on magic carpet street signs
where Joni sang hairflowers
and headband crochet,
and the Taco Time spilled
and stuck to bare legs
as I felt your jacket comfort
in Sergeant Pepper incense
and the pull
of your blue-light eyes.
.
© 1993, 2012 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(For poetry from the 1960’s, you’re invited to visit my “coming of age” blog at
http://rememberingthesixties.wordpress.com .
Posted in Poetry 1980's, tagged balance, Beginnings, food, Love, meals, Relationships on November 28, 2011| 18 Comments »
wine, the mayo,
the bag of sugar
while I buy lighter foods –
bread, lettuce,
the salmon fillets.
Together
maybe we can make
a balanced meal.
.
(c) 1984 Betty Hayes Albright
Posted in Deep Water, Poetry 1990's, tagged falling star, Love, Relationships, shooting star on November 21, 2011| 23 Comments »
How brief
the sweep of fire
you hurled across my sea,
so brave the flash
that seared our night
and lit the harbored diamonds
in my soul.
How high on my horizon
did you ride the wild arc,
how deep
inside my breast
you came to rest.
♥
(c) 1994, 2012 Betty Hayes Albright
Posted in Poetry 1980's, tagged eagle, friendship, lion, Love, Relationships, Trees on November 13, 2011| 22 Comments »
Called the lioness to the eagle,
let me fly with you
to your favorite places –
I long to see them too.
.
Sang the eagle to the lioness,
I’ll never have you here.
You’re stuck on terra firma,
gravity has made that clear.
.
Called the lioness to the eagle,
then nest down here with me.
You can have the highest branches
in the sapodilla tree.
.
Sang the eagle to the lioness,
it’s teeth and claws I fear.
I’m sorry, but the sky is safe
and I must stay up here.
.
Called the lioness to the eagle,
It’s safe here on the ground.
My paws have been declawed
and my teeth have been filed down.
.
Sang the eagle to the lioness,
your muscles frighten me.
Just one of your embraces
and I would cease to be.
.
Called the lioness to the eagle,
you won’t suffer my embrace.
I wouldn’t try to hold you
for I’ve given up the chase.
.
Sang the eagle to the lioness,
you’d hypnotize me then .
Your eyes have such charisma
that I’d ne’er be free again.
.
Called the lioness to the eagle,
I won’t gaze at you too long.
I could never mesmerize you
for your will is much too strong.
.
Sang the eagle to the lioness,
then I will be your friend
in the sapodilla tree
until the sky calls me again.
.
Purred the lioness to her heart,
we’ve won his trust this day.
She curled up underneath his wings
and hid desire away.
.
© 1982, 2011 Betty Hayes Albright
Posted in Deep Water, Poetry 1990's, tagged hope, Love, memories, passion, poem, Poetry, Relationships on October 8, 2011| 5 Comments »
.
She says not to use
those two words
love and futile
in the same sentence.
She’ll see him again –
she knows not when
or where
but she knows why.
.
(c) 1997, 2014 Betty Hayes Albright
Posted in Poetry 1970's, tagged dream, Love, Poetry, Relationships on September 25, 2011| 5 Comments »
(from 1975)
.
Rubber band dreams
stretch their way
across the night,
calling out your name.
Impatiently
I pull them back.
They snap and sting
while somewhere
you awaken,
my name still on your lips.
.
(c) 1975, 2012 Betty Hayes Albright
Pencil drawing (c) 1965