napomo | apersonaljourney - stories of love

Tag: napomo
- This Quiet Life
  
  Posted at 11:31 pm by a quiet man, on April 21, 2020
  I took a walk today,
  
  a solo stroll,
  
  another one,
  
  an afternoon, an evening, the next morning.
  
  I noticed a sunset over the horizon,
  
  a cloud cover letting the early evening blend pastels
  
  me, again enjoyed alone,
  
  I took a walk today
  
  well there was my dog in hand,
  
  in these our inexplainable times,
  
  there is no venture,
  
  not a possibility,
  
  everything has to remain a fantasy,
  
  rather than an explained reality.
  
  I took a walk today,
  
  to get away from the news,
  
  to allow my isolation to remove itself
  
  from the quiet of my home,
  
  I watched the sunset tonight,
  
  and remember all the times
  
  she and I could appreciate that just alone
  
  together.
  
  © Scott F Savage 4/2020
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  Posted in poetry | 0 Comments | Tagged alone, COVID 19, home, isolation, napomo, sunset, walk
- Saga of Love
  
  Posted at 9:13 pm by a quiet man, on April 19, 2020
  The first time I saw her,
  
  her posture, her gait, her demeanor,
  
  I wondered about her,
  
  at a glance,
  
  I stood no chance,
  
  yet,
  
  I was compelled to know her.
  
  We did find each other
  
  a few days later,
  
  our eyes began to speak without words,
  
  sitting in a coffee shop one morning
  
  we listened to everything around us,
  
  while we found each other’s soul
  
  occasional glance away,
  
  then return,
  
  smile.
  
  We took off that morning,
  
  a Volvo wagon,
  
  circa ’79,
  
  we drove around town,
  
  swept by school,
  
  we imagined,
  
  moving to California together,
  
  until the sun began to set,
  
  we returned the car.
  
  Our fantasy had begun to unravel.
  
  yet we still looked in each other’s eyes,
  
  we still sought our soul,
  
  smile.
  
  © Scott F Savage 4/2020
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  Posted in poetry | 0 Comments | Tagged glance, irony, memory, napomo, nostalgia, soul, time
- The Day She Told Me No
  
  Posted at 12:32 am by a quiet man, on April 18, 2020
  We were sitting in the park,
  
  well a quiet wooded area,
  
  the sort of romantic interlude
  
  we grew quite fond together,
  
  occasional bird song
  
  she could pick out of the tree,
  
  and I in my ignorance,
  
  would finally see.
  
  I could write a poem about her every day,
  
  I was so in love,
  
  everything I dreamed about returned in words
  
  a sensuality, a certain integrity,
  
  a soft and beautiful woman,
  
  I could worship her being forever.
  
  She once told me she was happy
  
  with my words,
  
  yet this autumn afternoon,
  
  she looked away
  
  when having to reveal,
  
  she no longer understood
  
  my meaning,
  
  I felt it read as
  
  no longer wanting to know.
  
  So now I challenge words alone
  
  to keep me breathing.
  
  © Scott F Savage 4/2020
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  Posted in poetry, writing | 0 Comments | Tagged depression, happiness, meaning, mental health, napomo, napowrimo, poetry, recovery, suicide
- A Good Woman
  
  Posted at 10:57 pm by a quiet man, on April 12, 2020
  On holiday
  
  a time for love
  
  unconditional
  
  no romantic interlude
  
  ~
  
  Simply support
  
  she came to me
  
  gave her heart to heal my pain
  
  left me feeling humbled
  
  safe.
  
  ~
  
  A good woman
  
  compassion given
  
  that was felt in my
  
  heart and soul
  
  g’nite sweet moon.
  
  ©️ Scott F Savage 4/2020
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  Posted in poetry, writing | 0 Comments | Tagged compassion, faith, holiday, love, napomo, poetry, z
- Howling in the Distance
  
  Posted at 8:58 am by a quiet man, on April 12, 2020
  We are in such unknown territory,
  
  our lives subjected to an invisible fear.
  
  Last night I felt a quieting sensitive tear.
  
  forced acceptance in horrifying history.
  
  I cannot find a way to settle my nerves
  
  it isn’t cabin fever as much as some sign
  
  of wanting to stop my own incessant whine,
  
  lives travel mountain roads in swerves.
  
  Last night I listened to the winds in a howl,
  
  the building shook and my windows rattled
  
  I was not interrupted being stuck, saddled.
  
  I couldn’t help noticing this menacing scowl.
  
  In the winds of morning I did come to terms my own
  
  life matters, be conscious, let the howling be known.
  
  © Scott F Savage 4/2020
  
  (for a dear friend I am grateful)
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  Posted in poetry, Sonnets, writing | 0 Comments | Tagged #life, COVID, distance, howling, napomo, nature, patience, support, winds
- Question Motive Together
  
  Posted at 7:23 pm by a quiet man, on April 11, 2020
  Well it was,
  
  her,
  
  we were inside the realm
  
  fleeting,
  
  her own passion absolved
  
  perhaps
  
  his own absence
  
  could only drive desire
  
  until
  
  this is a despondent plea
  
  to know
  
  what is love
  
  what is motive
  
  why do we question anything
  
  based upon
  
  the reality
  
  of our own
  
  moral fiber.
  
  Shock value,
  
  circa twenty years
  
  earlier,
  
  listening to Laurie Anderson,
  
  she taught me
  
  how
  
  how I might,
  
  we may choose words
  
  to confuse,
  
  yet,
  
  that precision,
  
  two decades ago,
  
  brought
  
  two people
  
  together
  
  for reasons
  
  of engagement,
  
  elusive,
  
  lacking,
  
  subjective,
  
  judgment,
  
  disappearance,
  
  when suddenly found,
  
  let’s realize each other.
  
  So I suppose
  
  that is questionable,
  
  a question,
  
  anxiety,
  
  a wonder,
  
  do I want wander
  
  to be,
  
  the one going forward,
  
  yes,
  
  yes I do,
  
  Yes I so badly want to,
  
  that I need to tell you,
  
  but I’m afraid,
  
  my love,
  
  will cause an end
  
  end
  
  cease
  
  this world we are willing
  
  to create
  
  together.
  
  Yet, you told me,
  
  said to me,
  
  years after I looked at
  
  you
  
  inflection,
  
  expression,
  
  (eyes)
  
  thought
  
  anything we knew
  
  I had destroyed,
  
  unfortunate
  
  as the waning days began,
  
  a frightening drive,
  
  where I despaired believing
  
  she,
  
  driving,
  
  wanted to go away,
  
  as soon
  
  as I did
  
  go
  
  go away!
  
  Then the music,
  
  back when an answering machine,
  
  worked
  
  independently,
  
  enough to create
  
  misconstrued
  
  mistaken,
  
  missed opportunities
  
  to know,
  
  to feel
  
  to want
  
  to cry
  
  over and over
  
  years later when knowledge
  
  became
  
  a cornerstone
  
  of saying to one another …
  
  each other
  
  both of us,
  
  her
  
  me,
  
  together.
  
  We won’t we will not
  
  we will not end that way again,
  
  we won’t,
  
  we did.
  
  Maybe not
  
  Scott and Zelda,
  
  beautiful words
  
  together.
  
  © Scott F Savage 4/2020
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  Posted in poetry | 0 Comments | Tagged Dear Scott Dearest Zelda, Desire, Forever, love letters, motive, napomo, Passion, together, words
- last night
  
  Posted at 3:13 pm by a quiet man, on April 11, 2020
  I did dream last night,
  
  and it no longer mattered
  
  such sadness sedates
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  Posted in haiku, poetry, writing | 0 Comments | Tagged dreams, fatigue, haiku, napomo, time, wordpress
- First Moments
  
  Posted at 7:46 am by a quiet man, on April 10, 2020
  There is that glance,
  
  mine is searching,
  
  early morning faces,
  
  waiting upon a facade
  
  all privacy inside their own
  
  personal planner
  
  like any other day.
  
  My eyes open
  
  the village outside
  
  my life no longer
  
  the exclusive
  
  neighbor
  
  cutting a lawn
  
  in the surface
  
  drawn cul-d-sac.
  
  My table the same
  
  coffee on my left
  
  headphones
  
  people watching and …
  
  creating words,
  
  finding words,
  
  searching ever more
  
  the right moment.
  
  I remember again
  
  like yesterday,
  
  she scarves an elegance
  
  standing in line
  
  laceless tennis shoes
  
  lean back
  
  left leg straight to hip
  
  resting, planted posture,
  
  right readied
  
  fragile bend at knee
  
  pirouette.
  
  Oh to might her glance
  
  may she my eyes smile
  
  ©️ Scott F Savage 4/2020
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  Posted in poetry, writing | 0 Comments | Tagged #coffeeshop, chance, elegance, glance, morning, napomo, poet, posture, scarves, sunlight, z
- We Were Sixteen
  
  Posted at 12:33 am by a quiet man, on April 5, 2020
  The same,
  
  hormonal,
  
  confused in society
  
  game an expectation
  
  hands held
  
  caused shivers in the mind,
  
  smiles,
  
  anticipation spoke aloud
  
  without words,
  
  she walked away,
  
  I had already learned abandon
  
  yet never with a girl.
  
  as intensely
  
  elegant
  
  in a young woman.
  
  When a walk winter
  
  later in life
  
  a reminder of a soul mate,
  
  years upon
  
  intrigue with the essence
  
  of woman,
  
  a frightening challenge
  
  no quest
  
  upon simple respect.
  
  practicing persona.
  
  i knew only confusion,
  
  yet twenty years later
  
  she walked in,
  
  such wonder in her wonder in glance,
  
  we were entirely careful,
  
  knowing eyes
  
  delightful seep in
  
  simple sensuality
  
  in a public whom we
  
  carefully began
  
  a happiness
  
  a discovery.
  
  A dissolution would follow
  
  initiate,
  
  a sedentary identity
  
  the finality of confusion
  
  years later,
  
  two decades
  
  that a coffee shop
  
  allow
  
  love to give trial
  
  that question,
  
  became an answer,
  
  yet our resilience
  
  took during paths,
  
  today our wander,
  
  finds coves of serenity,
  
  empty promises,
  
  often reminder
  
  sweet reminder.
  
  a will to wander
  
  in our passion,
  
  familiar embrace
  
  eternal.
  
  © Scott F Savage 4/2020
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  Posted in poetry, writing | 0 Comments | Tagged dissolution, divorce, love, marriage, napomo, new love, outlier, Passion, quiet silence, retribution, z
- 3 AM Again
  
  Posted at 2:55 am by a quiet man, on April 4, 2020
  How many more
  
  how many years,
  
  the hours that lead to the time
  
  when he would reflect,
  
  helpless to his own emotions,
  
  just aware,
  
  seeing a clock on the wall,
  
  empty streets below,
  
  the windows of the village,
  
  have all darkened the lives
  
  of any indication
  
  of the human condition,
  
  humanity,
  
  all of us
  
  cloistered in such is this unique
  
  pandemic,
  
  yet isolated,
  
  without words,
  
  only silence,
  
  only a twilight,
  
  always a wonder,
  
  in his wandering mind,
  
  trying to fix the past,
  
  and yet,
  
  unable again,
  
  to catch up to his
  
  present
  
  so he may feel
  
  her own mystique,
  
  a muse, her
  
  presence.
  
  © Scott F Savage 4/2020
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  Posted in poetry, writing | 0 Comments | Tagged leaving, muse, mystique, napomo, presence, Tom Petty, Wildflower, z
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