Monthly Archives: June 2015

“The Vanishing Picnic”

Before natural grasses across the land die away
And all the trees chopped down for development,
Can I take you on a quiet, pamper-her excursion
to affirm that nature is still benevolent?

. . . God, pamper the world . . . . -Rg2

My Angel,

Would you mind if I hold you just a little closer tonight?

It’s not that all my previous embraces lacked the conviction of the one for which I ask on this day. Not at all. After all, a hug, a hold should have meaning, no? To exude, to console, to affirm, to protect, even to convey what words simply cannot.

You know what I wish for? What I’m about to write likely will come across as silly, uneducated, far-fetched and illogical as anything I’ve ever expressed to you . . . or anyone else for that matter: I wish God would, for those of us who must live on this earth for the short while that we exist, cast an invisible protective shield around the good- and pure-hearted among us, the void-of-hatred humans among us, the just-want-to-be-our-humanly-best among us.

Not so shielded that our goodness and mercy can’t permeate the fortress and infect others with God’s light. No, not so fortified that our children can’t be touched by the glimmer of humanity that is our only saving grace. Instead, shielded so air-tightly, so impenetrably that harm cannot pierce it, that terrorism cannot break its armor, that hatred cannot transfer itself–ever!

At this point in my life, I can honestly say that I no longer know if ‘good’ will always win out over ‘evil.’ Presumably because so many of us are capable of both. I still like ‘good’s’ odds but, I swear, evil is a heck of an adversary, sometimes seemingly outmaneuvering good at the most critical times when good is so very needed.

My grandfather once told me that people who hate were rarely, if ever, hugged growing up, and their lives unfold contrary to their inner ideal. I can only imagine the number of times a terrorist was hugged.

Of course I realize it’s not a cure-all, a hug. Naive though I sometimes am, I understand the frailty of humanness, the vulnerability in humanity. We’re all vulnerable.

Only love can conquer hate? Gosh, angel, I admit I don’t know anymore. I mean, in order to love, shouldn’t people ‘want’ to love? Maybe it’s losing its luster. Man, hate sure seems like it’s winning.

Which is why that shield, to my own naive mind, is so very needed. The haters appear to be the growth population, the demographic on serious lurch. Dwindling appears to be the love-capable.

We’re vulnerable, my angel. Now more than ever.

I’m certain others would promptly laugh at my ‘shield’ wish. But is it truly such an odd, naive prayer? If so, I won’t share it with anyone else. I’ll keep it between myself and my Heavenly Father.

But for good measure, allow me to shield you tonight, in my arms. I wanna hold you just a little closer. And share with you a prayer for the nine God-revering souls who lost their lives in Charleston, and their families.

I want to hug and hold an angel tonight.

It’s Pamper-Her-Friday. God help us all.

With faith,
Rg2

__________________

***

Pamper the world . . . for humanity’s sake. -Rg2

© 2015 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

“Last Summer Remains”

What is this thing summer season love . . .
Phenomenon, heart theory, or purely rubbish?
Think back, will you, this time last year
The last love letter went nearly unpublished

No dweller in the past am I, my friend
We can’t simply pick up where we left off,
But you never quite uttered a goodbye
And what of that kiss you blew aloft . . . ?

Releasing your hand from the intimacy of mine
We reckoned it was our last summer touch,
Watching you walk away in the beach sand distance
Gosh, I didn’t think they’d linger as much . . .

As they have, recollections and reflections
of open-air, by-starlight concerts by the bay,
Unfolding your stadium chair next to mine
Mesmerized by the saxophones at play

No outward displays of endearment we agreed
But notice we never put it in writing,
The verbal contract proved hard to honor
And your girlfriends spoke of the romantic sighting . . .

That was you standing so freely in my space
Laughing at my khakis rolled at ankle cuff,
But it was you who bought them for me, woman
Then wanting me shirtless to admire the buff

Uh huh, summeritis had surely set in
Those hot and humid nights inviting ice play,
Midnight movies on projector in the grass
Grilled salmon and zucchini at sunset–replay . . .

I do the memories of your editing my script
scrawled over the hammock in my button shirt,
Swinging you nostalgically beneath the oak’s arm
Admiring your beauty in the floral wrap skirt

Yeah, you put a little heart-rush on me, girl
Can you honestly say you didn’t enjoy our season?
I realize a man shouldn’t live in the past
Though if you’re willing, we’ve ample reason

To consider the kiss you gently blew aloft
I swear, it seems to have found my cheek,
This Pamper-Her-Friday has me thinking of you
I must admit: It’s your summertime touch I seek . . .

For a summer’s romance.

What do you say?

_________

***

Pamper the woman . . . for an unforgettable summer. –Rg2

© 2015 Pamper-Her-Friday by Rg2®

P.S.: Pamper-Her-Friday

Dear _______,

Though the essence of Pamper-Her-Friday is to enhance the woman’s life in various ways creative, innovative, and meaningful, whether by touch or sentiment, pampering may also manifest itself in giving you something just as thoughtful: Your space.