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Oralya G Ueberroth

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Member Since: Jul, 2007

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Short Stories
· The Canary and the Lily

· I Remember You

· To Picture A Wedding Dress

· The Dryers

· The Hard Line

· Easier said than done

· Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar

· On Bullying

· Turbulence

· Only one thing left to say…

· Giving Up

· Finding Fault

· Where Are the Words?

· The Debt

· The First Time

         More poetry...

Oralya G Ueberroth, click here to update your web pages on AuthorsDen.

  What If?
by Oralya G Ueberroth
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Rated "PG" by the Author.

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Recent poems by Oralya G Ueberroth
•  Turbulence
•  Only one thing left to say…
•  The First Time
•  The Debt
•  Giving Up
           >> View all 8


When you say “we,” I’m never sure of who you mean.

Our lines seem to intersect
uncomfortably often.
We have too much in common
for me to feel free
of your honorable mention.


Often uncomfortable,
I should probably let you know,
small talk
is not one of my best things.

When you say “we”
My ego soars before I even question,
Which we?

I say stupid things
Like “yes, we should.”
My heart wants to be included
so I assume that I am 
And later I think how “healthy”
my self image must be
to allow me to immediately
that you could mean me.

We tango,
with words,
with pieces of ourselves.
And while you feel right to me
for me -
It may only be
A dance that we dance –
something to pass the time,
and too much time passes,
between dances.

You’ve become my grand hallucination.
A fantasy my reality can never match.
And while the sane me
is certain that you are only
Being nice,
my insanity tells me
that what I think I see
is really there.

The softness of your words
Placates my true sense of insecurity –
And I sink,
into what I am told
Is false sense
of desirability.

Why would you mean me?

I am, too old
too loud,
too round,
always too something.

But I crave the sound of your voice
as one would crave the soothing sound
of a deep cello,
and I come back for more –
ashamed of my weakness –
my lack of courage –
my inability
to stay away.

You invite,
And confuse,
In a more gentle voice
than I have heard in many years,  
and I run toward your fire
thinking only of getting what I need,
forgetting the scar from the burn
that is sure to come.

In your presence
My instinct says “run” –
But I need to see it all play out -
And curiosity kills
a part of me every time.

I replay your words in my head,
decoding the secret messages of all you didn’t say –
rifling through the mental files of our exchanges -
looking for more than is there,
telling myself what a fool I am
to even think – you could mean me.

I imagine scenarios of you caring.
Your part is well scripted
but you are late with your lines.
I set myself aside
to become the character
my mind says you will find more appealing -
But you only become confused.

I raise my grief
As a shield to deflect you –
But the rebound never comes
And you absorb me
like a sponge –
And as I stand there,
looking into your eyes,
I can feel more and more of myself
falling into you.

You are my hallucination – So,
what if you watch me?
So what, if the conversation is deep and sweet?
What if your words

When it all shakes out –
There may be no more to “us”
than this.

But so,
what if?

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Reviewed by Blondie Clayton 11/10/2010
You describe a couple on a date first meeting like a romantic tour, with so much involved, unsure of how the tour is going to end.
Reviewed by John Domino 12/22/2009
A great composition in poetic fashion. May I add with Jesus Christ anything is possible.

Merry Christmas and Happy 2010!

John Michael Domino
Reviewed by Ms Beeds 9/9/2008
Absolutely outstanding! Well done - I very much enjoyed the read! Good Luck! And Best Wishes, BEEDS
Reviewed by Bernice Lakota 3/11/2008
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