A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.

but aren't they all random?

Wednesday, February 14, 2018

hey, jealousy

For the first time, I know what jealousy means.
You are the one I thank for that. You made me
look it up in the dictionary. And now, I am
jealous.

I lost the bet.

There are two separate senses of jealousy
that are relevant to love relationships

(and a third that applies to losers
of bets, or others regarding
accomplishment, and feeling
that stinky sting! To be
jealous of it)

The secondmost sense
is the troublesome
one. Where jealousy is distrust
of the other's
faithfulness. Which sucks,
and which

is entirely bad.

It grows out of and is a distortion
of what, to me, is the primary
one:

A sense of a right awarded to one,
an exclusive right, and deserved in full
only because it is given in full,
and accepted in full. To be conscious and vigilant
of such gift, and even possessive - to take ownership
of one's rights and one's duties in it,
to feel solicitous, eager to honor
and to discharge them,

fully and well,

to feel a guardianship

and protectiveness,

is to be jealous.

A feeling quite sweet
and innocent! I'm surprised
to admit, and feel myself.

The trouble, I think, is where people forget
that wherever such rights

are awarded by someone else,
in a freely-given gift of one's own, owned self
(which is yours to give! If it isn't, you'd better
correctly guess that you don't own it, if it isn't yours
to give. Whose is it?), such rights
remain at their pleasure, and are

in their continued gift.

It ill behooves the recipient
to sue for a breach of trust, in this.

It better behooves one to gratitude
every day, for a gift given every
day to you.

To accuse mistrust is to presume
to rights that nobody has, and jealously
force and insist on them, like a
fucking clown.

I'm jealous of love you give to me.
My jealousy never could bring me down,
or lay you low, or lower you
in my sight, or make me doubt
or damage or break my trust,
which you placed in me.

I jealousy love and keep

the way that you make me feel,
and I jealousy guard myself
in my acts and ways, to ever more fully

and truly possess

what you freely and fully and truly want me
to have, and cherish, and keep:
your regard for me.
Your love,
for me.
Your self,
for me to have,
and love as my own,
I jealously love
doing honor to all of this gift

of you,

which is yours to give,
which you give every day
as if every day were one,

and as if I'm the one you choose
to live in it with.

So you do. I'm jealous with it!

- madly with joy, I live in your gift,
jealousy guarding such rare privilege,

and wondering how I ever deserved?
And gladly I set myself to the task:
to earn your gift, to try every day
in the full exercise of my duties
and rights, and responsible

only to you, for the use I have made
of all that you've given me to. As I please,
that is how you have given to me.

And ready to give my account in full,
so ready to answer for anything you

find questionable, or troublesome, I

am jealously, gratefully, humbly
proud

of being the one who gets to stand
and give full account. Who gets to strive
finding everyway how to live up to this:

your free, unassuming and perfect gift.

You bet! I am very jealous of it.

A jealousy sweet and innocent,
like you've given me stake
in the infinite,

and all that I want
is to prove your right -
which you've given me
- and to prove you're right,

in winning it.





3 comments:

dogimo said...

Revised. Originally posted on 13 February 2018, and ended with "I lost the bet."

Steph said...

This poem was good in its shorter form, but I am glad you added to it. There is a lot to think about here, and I think this is one instance where it works to tease it out. But I also think it works fine in its shorter form. There is more mystery there, and that can be a good thing in poetry. When it comes down to it though, I really like the journey to the final lines in the long version, so I think this is the version I prefer.

dogimo said...

Yeah, I struggle with cases like these. I think the original short version was already perfect in what it said, and in everything else it left open. But it definitely opened up more that could be said, which I wanted to say, and I'm glad I did. But it's a little sad losing the original version.

Maybe I'll repost it later, just as itself. Like. I have to pay my poem count!