I'm no poet.
I'm a filmmaker! I'm a scientist! I'm a logician! I'm a mathematician!
But, but, I am not, not at all, not even in the least bit, a poet!
But, sighed Gordo, even if I don't have the abilities of a real poet, that doesn't mean I can't give it try.
So there! Go away, inner critic, let me be. Begone! Shoo! Scram! Just leave, and let me write my poem, my poem for Lizzie. Okay?
As he struggled with his inner critic, he leaned back in his desk chair, let out a laugh, then began pondering about his day, the unbelievably amazing day he just had.
It had been an absolutely wonderful, beautiful, rapturous, glorious, stupendous, magnificent day, a day worthy of many superlative adjectives, because he had just spent the entire day with his favorite person in the whole wide world, the love of his life and his best friend, Lizzie McGuire.
They had spent a brilliant fall day walking about in Cambridge, enjoying the autumn sun, breathing in the crisp October air, taking in the sparkling colors of the glorious autumn leaves, and, most importantly, they had spent a timeless day thoroughly enjoying each other's company.
And that day was inspiring Gordo to write poetry, despite his self- proclaimed handicap and his self-proclaimed innate inability to write anything that could come close to resembling a poem.
So what? I don't care, I'm inspired to write, to express my feelings, to give release to my soul's desires, so I'm gonna write this poem, and nothing can stop me!
After he had spent a considerable amount of time on his poem, he finally finished. He took a deep breath, then he stared intently at what he had just written. Okay, before I give this to Lizzie, let me see if what I've written is comprehensible.
*****************************************
A Poem For Lizzie
All I want,
All I want,
is you.
All I want is you, Lizzie McGuire.
You make my heart sing, You make my heart smile,
You make my heart soar,
You take my breath away.
You are the light of my life, You are the heart of my soul.
You give me strength, You give me hope,
You give me love, You give me joy,
You give me life.
I want you, I adore you, I need you,
I long for you,
I love you.
In the darkness of the night,
You give me hope,
You help me carry on.
You are the dream of my life,
And knowing you are besides me, Knowing you are there for me,
You give me strength.
I love you, Lizzie.
And I give my heart to you.
My heart is yours,
My heart is yours, to keep, to hold, to cherish,
to love.
I love you, Lizzie McGuire.
I love you, from the bottom of my heart,
from the bottom of my soul,
You are my shining light,
You are my life.
I am yours,
forever.
My love, Gordo.
***********************
Gordo read his poem, leaned back in his chair again, and thought, Ummmm . . . I don't know, I don't know, I have no clue if this is any good or not. *Sigh*. See Gordo, you're not a poet, you should stick to making movies, just movies.
Ah well, at least writing the damn thing help to pass the time away before Lizzie comes by, thought Gordo.
Just as he finished his thought, he heard a voice call out to him. "Hey, Gordo!"
He whirled around to see Lizzie standing in front of his open dorm room.
It's Lizzie! Oh geez, I can't have her see what I've written!
In a state of utter panic, he took the piece of paper that held his poem and stuffed it down his shirt.
"Gordo?? What are you doing?" shouted Lizzie, deeply puzzled by Gordo's odd behavior. What in the world is he doing with that piece of paper, she wondered?
"Uh, uh, hey, Lizzie! What's up?" exclaimed a nervous Gordo.
"Nothing! But, something's up with you, because you're trying to hide something in your shirt! What ya got there, Gooo-rddoooo?" cooed a sly, playful Lizzie. "Something you're trying to keep from me, hmmmm?"
"No!" shouted Gordo. "Nothing! I'm not hiding anything from you! Really! Truly! And hey, how about those Oakland Athletics, they sure are playing well considering they're a bunch of banjo hitters and journeymen pitchers. Right? Right?"
Oh please Lizzie, please just let it go, don't keep asking me about my poem, please don't, I can't show this to you, not now, not yet, not ever!!
Lizzie took careful notice of Gordo's odd, anxious expression, and thought, he *is* trying to hide something from me, and I *need* to know what this is all about . . . .
I'm a filmmaker! I'm a scientist! I'm a logician! I'm a mathematician!
But, but, I am not, not at all, not even in the least bit, a poet!
But, sighed Gordo, even if I don't have the abilities of a real poet, that doesn't mean I can't give it try.
So there! Go away, inner critic, let me be. Begone! Shoo! Scram! Just leave, and let me write my poem, my poem for Lizzie. Okay?
As he struggled with his inner critic, he leaned back in his desk chair, let out a laugh, then began pondering about his day, the unbelievably amazing day he just had.
It had been an absolutely wonderful, beautiful, rapturous, glorious, stupendous, magnificent day, a day worthy of many superlative adjectives, because he had just spent the entire day with his favorite person in the whole wide world, the love of his life and his best friend, Lizzie McGuire.
They had spent a brilliant fall day walking about in Cambridge, enjoying the autumn sun, breathing in the crisp October air, taking in the sparkling colors of the glorious autumn leaves, and, most importantly, they had spent a timeless day thoroughly enjoying each other's company.
And that day was inspiring Gordo to write poetry, despite his self- proclaimed handicap and his self-proclaimed innate inability to write anything that could come close to resembling a poem.
So what? I don't care, I'm inspired to write, to express my feelings, to give release to my soul's desires, so I'm gonna write this poem, and nothing can stop me!
After he had spent a considerable amount of time on his poem, he finally finished. He took a deep breath, then he stared intently at what he had just written. Okay, before I give this to Lizzie, let me see if what I've written is comprehensible.
*****************************************
A Poem For Lizzie
All I want,
All I want,
is you.
All I want is you, Lizzie McGuire.
You make my heart sing, You make my heart smile,
You make my heart soar,
You take my breath away.
You are the light of my life, You are the heart of my soul.
You give me strength, You give me hope,
You give me love, You give me joy,
You give me life.
I want you, I adore you, I need you,
I long for you,
I love you.
In the darkness of the night,
You give me hope,
You help me carry on.
You are the dream of my life,
And knowing you are besides me, Knowing you are there for me,
You give me strength.
I love you, Lizzie.
And I give my heart to you.
My heart is yours,
My heart is yours, to keep, to hold, to cherish,
to love.
I love you, Lizzie McGuire.
I love you, from the bottom of my heart,
from the bottom of my soul,
You are my shining light,
You are my life.
I am yours,
forever.
My love, Gordo.
***********************
Gordo read his poem, leaned back in his chair again, and thought, Ummmm . . . I don't know, I don't know, I have no clue if this is any good or not. *Sigh*. See Gordo, you're not a poet, you should stick to making movies, just movies.
Ah well, at least writing the damn thing help to pass the time away before Lizzie comes by, thought Gordo.
Just as he finished his thought, he heard a voice call out to him. "Hey, Gordo!"
He whirled around to see Lizzie standing in front of his open dorm room.
It's Lizzie! Oh geez, I can't have her see what I've written!
In a state of utter panic, he took the piece of paper that held his poem and stuffed it down his shirt.
"Gordo?? What are you doing?" shouted Lizzie, deeply puzzled by Gordo's odd behavior. What in the world is he doing with that piece of paper, she wondered?
"Uh, uh, hey, Lizzie! What's up?" exclaimed a nervous Gordo.
"Nothing! But, something's up with you, because you're trying to hide something in your shirt! What ya got there, Gooo-rddoooo?" cooed a sly, playful Lizzie. "Something you're trying to keep from me, hmmmm?"
"No!" shouted Gordo. "Nothing! I'm not hiding anything from you! Really! Truly! And hey, how about those Oakland Athletics, they sure are playing well considering they're a bunch of banjo hitters and journeymen pitchers. Right? Right?"
Oh please Lizzie, please just let it go, don't keep asking me about my poem, please don't, I can't show this to you, not now, not yet, not ever!!
Lizzie took careful notice of Gordo's odd, anxious expression, and thought, he *is* trying to hide something from me, and I *need* to know what this is all about . . . .