Viewing entries in
Creating
The Problem with Sauerkraut is that
as I reach into the jar to follow a recipe
that calls for several scoops,
each one finds its way into my mouth first,
and soon there
is nothing left for dinner.
And that is the problem with sauerkraut
and politics.
CLR 2026
Dammit, Cheryl.
This morning, for no reason, Neil Diamond’s “Play Me” was running through my head.
So I played it.
Then I played it again.
And again.
I’ve loved this song since I was about twelve years old. I’m 63 now, which means I’ve been listening to it for roughly 51 years. I’m also an English teacher, a fact that makes what I’m about to admit considerably more embarrassing.
For 51 years, I completely misunderstood the beginning of this song.
In the little movie that has been playing unquestioned in my head since approximately 1975, someone has discovered her dead body beside his bed, and he just rolls over and says: Come take me.
Off to jail he goes.
What’s remarkable is that I never questioned this. I continued listening to what is obviously a beautiful, deeply romantic love song without ever wondering why Neil Diamond had chosen to begin it with a homicide.
This morning, after listening to the song over and over, I finally heard it.
Oh.
It’s “one morning I found her lying beside my bed,” and then he softly says, “come take me.”
Take me.
Not take me into custody.
Take me with you. Take me into your life. Lead me somewhere new.
Suddenly the rest of the song opened up too. The woman has changed the direction of his life. He has chosen another road, one he describes as “thorned and narrow.” And the refrain I have always loved— “come play me”, this idea of one person being the song and the other asking to be played—becomes an act of surrender.
It’s beautiful. It’s also a bit corny. Maybe that’s why I was fine with the murder.
And it only took an English teacher 51 years to figure it out.
I think there’s something wonderful about discovering that a piece of art you have known for most of your life can still surprise you. We hear words through whatever story we first attach to them, and sometimes that story becomes so familiar that we stop hearing the actual words at all.
Then, one morning, we listen again.
I’m writing Neil Diamond a letter.
I feel he deserves to know that for most of my life I have loved his beautiful song while simultaneously believing that it begins with a corpse and a confession.
I’m happy to finally have it straight.
And I think I love the song even more now that I have realized nobody died.
Literally, anyway.
What about you? Is there anything in your life that you have misunderstood until recently?
CLR 2026
These are some very early rocks of mine. Neil Diamond and some women. I wondered, which one did he murder and how did he get away with it? Not really. But these are from 2019 ish. That’s true!
THE HISTORY OF LOVE
Cheryl Lynn Ray
2026
For Andrew and Kevin
These poems were written between 1990 and 2013. Together they tell the story of how my understanding of love changed over time. The unchanging and overwhelming love I have for my sons is a different story.
Contents
Creating (1990)
The History of Love (1993)
The Dancers (2001)
A Thought (2001)
I Live (2001)
A Happy Place (2001)
Those Words (2004)
Pink Slip (2008)
Where Does It Go? (2009)
Finally (2013)
---------(1990)
Creating
(why it never stops)
Settling in, Settling on,
Settling over and around.
Settling up, settling for,
But never settling down.
1990 C. M.
The History of Love
Once upon a time,
before I came to believe
love was a calculated risk,
I would have lost my life
for passion.
My heart, once broken,
now sits silently
inside a cavity of steel,
untouchable.
Calculations replaced
dreams of someone
like George Bailey
who would lasso the moon
just for me.
C. Morgan 1993
The Dancers
(For grandmother and grandaddy)
The music has softened now,
its melody gray
as a January day.
Together they move
through steps learned
over a lifetime,
their dance shaped
by lean years
and faithful hearts.
Death is taking numbers.
Soon,
it will call theirs.
The temptation is to fear,
to grieve,
to beg the music
to play forever.
Yet their final dance
has the same quiet beauty
as a waddling pregnant woman—
both carrying
what cannot be hurried,
one toward birth,
the other toward home.
Lucky them.
No squalling hunger.
No hard years
spent eking out a living.
Only the grace
of a life
completely danced.
CM 2001
This is a mouse pad I had printed with a rock I painted with a likeness of Jesus, next to part of a poem I wrote once upon a time.
A Thought
I think that God
is simply love,
alive in you and me.
Turn away,
and emptiness
is all that's left to see.
I serve love.
It is my work.
I choose it
every day.
Its presence
guides my every step
along a very
human way.
CM 2001
I Live
In between men
I live
in the silence
between
Good riddance!
and
Hello there!
I can breathe and think and live,
in between men.
CM 2001
A Happy Place
(for a friend mad at love)
I have worked
for these sunrises—
glorious,
joy-filled—
outside my grubby city window.
I have stumbled
like a drunkard
through the streets,
screaming at the gods,
until I realized
I was screaming
at myself.
I have bled from my pores
for this peace of mind.
Then I found
my happy place.
That,
I cannot give you.
You will hurt
in places
you never knew existed.
You may blame
the world
until at last
you are left
with the only one
who can change it.
Then,
you will make
your happy place.
And when you find it,
I just might
be there too.
CM 2001
Those Words
Those words are leaping around
inside my mouth,
dancing a jig upon my tongue,
straining
to squeeze past my teeth,
but waiting
behind
my bashful lips.
CLR 2004
Pink Slip
(for Raymond)
I have loved you
for ten thousand years,
with your blessing,
and at your feet.
Though all wisdom and reason said no,
I lay chained,
a loyal servant,
at your feet.
Lessons learned,
I stood
and walked away,
yet hotly tossed them aside
at your familiar touch,
your voice,
your smile,
and at your feet.
One true feeling
bound me fully,
blighted by the devil's laughter—
a haunting blues melody
inside my heart.
I have loved you
more than any
who dared to enter
all four chambers
of my heart.
Rugged Love,
take your pink slip.
Our work
in this lifetime
is done.
You will always remain
inside my heart,
haunting
as a warning,
so that
in the next life,
I will see you coming
and turn away,
never again
to lay
at your feet.
CLR 2008
Where Does It Go?
(For the family)
Hers for her sister.
His for his son.
Where does this love go
when it comes undone?
He for his mother.
She for her man.
Can anger consume
what love first began?
Where does it go?
it’s gone with the sun.
When love disappears,
does it live on?
Have we mistaken
what love can do?
Or does love remain
when all else is through?
CLR • 2009
Finally
I know you. You have been
a seed, unfolding inside me.
You have been a whisper
in my ear, for decades.
I recognize your voice
from forever,
and revel
in the cadence
which in itself
tells me that you
are me.
CLR 2013
---------
I am you
And you are me
And we are
Us
And
Them.
C.M. 1990
---------
