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Jealous Woman
The strange woman
Notices your man.
The conversation
He’s too happy to see her.
His explanation.
He is nonchalant, quiet.
His happy face goes away,
when he is back in your presence.
Attitude
"That's right I got one!"
Offended.
She's upset because he doesn’t have much to say.
"Who was that woman?"
He acts as if she shouldn’t be asking any questions.
Now he has the attitude.
The argument.
Lack of details or no details.
He’s been acting different for awhile now.
Thinking about past issues with this current event.
Seeing red.
He’s confused.
She feels misused.
Upset stomach.
It’s becoming harder to talk.
Twisted thinking.
Making things bigger than what they are.
He says he loves you.
You say you trust him,
just not that woman.
But she has a man too,
and she isn’t thinking about yours,
but you.
Her man is telling her the same things.
Watching her every move.
"Who was that guy?
What did he say?
What did you say?"
He trusts her,
just not him.
Insecurity
Control
Abuse
Can’t be too careful
Hate feeling awkward
But jealousy has shown up
And things just aren’t the same
Don’t know whether you like him
Don’t know whether you want to be with her
Hate having to explain
You don’t need another father
Don’t want another mother!
Observing yourself in the mirror
Hoping you don’t offend
Thinking about what you say
Before you say it
No wrong ideas
No wrong impressions.
Jealousy at work
Does life get any better than this?
By Nicholl McGuire
Looking for Love in the Springtime
Young fresh naïve and happy--
that was me!
In the spring time--
a mere 23!
Looking to mate with someone,
a loving person, so care free.
Blossoming into a beautiful creation
for all the world to see!
With a personality like a fiery orange blossom, a Tiger Lily,
or maybe something, beautiful and strong like the Dogwood tree,
my spring time flower in a man would not come easy.
Just to think of him would make my stomach queasy.
If you looked inside of me,
you would see,
butterflies while bees buzz
trying to pollinate me.
I could look at those flowers
Pray for rain showers,
but I couldn’t touch,
for that would have been too much!
Their leaves dazzled me, their petals unique.
Sometimes I would lose sleep, hoping one would find me.
“Blow over my way with your tantalizing scent like that of a rose
tickle my nose,” I would think.
Until one came around, he did stink!
Along with the beautiful rays of the sun,
there was always one,
to come along and ruin my fun!
Ah yes, spring time!
A mating season.
Someone always looking for a reason,
to trade the old for the new--
to end up feeling blue--
to forget want it means to be true.
by Nicholl McGuire
Bye Old Man
A new man, a new day
rain in April, flowers in May.
Put off my old man,
On second thought, I ran!
Didn’t want to have to face,
or live with evil in a new place.
The roses of our love had long ago died
After the first time he had lied.
Loving this new place I’m in--
no longer in sin!
Feeling good about the new me,
as far as I can see.
I can’t speak for old him,
He tried to go out on a lim'.
Wanted to rush and get right,
before I took the next flight.
But I wasn’t interested in talking,
more interested in walking.
He was always looking for better,
but was bound by a letter.
He made a promise or two,
Or maybe it was a few.
He tried to make me forget
What he said when we first met.
He would take care of me,
but he hadn’t given up his key.
A lock to the past that he didn’t want to leave.
He didn’t expect me to grieve.
How could I not?
When this wasn’t what I had sought?
So I waited for my dove,
and now I’m in love,
with that new man, you see,
the one who hung upon the tree.
Nicholl McGuire
For more spiritual poems, click here
rain in April, flowers in May.
Put off my old man,
On second thought, I ran!
Didn’t want to have to face,
or live with evil in a new place.
The roses of our love had long ago died
After the first time he had lied.
Loving this new place I’m in--
no longer in sin!
Feeling good about the new me,
as far as I can see.
I can’t speak for old him,
He tried to go out on a lim'.
Wanted to rush and get right,
before I took the next flight.
But I wasn’t interested in talking,
more interested in walking.
He was always looking for better,
but was bound by a letter.
He made a promise or two,
Or maybe it was a few.
He tried to make me forget
What he said when we first met.
He would take care of me,
but he hadn’t given up his key.
A lock to the past that he didn’t want to leave.
He didn’t expect me to grieve.
How could I not?
When this wasn’t what I had sought?
So I waited for my dove,
and now I’m in love,
with that new man, you see,
the one who hung upon the tree.
Nicholl McGuire
For more spiritual poems, click here
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