I'm a Noodle, You're a Noodle Will You Marry Me

By Helen Lewison

Long ago I had a book of poetry and one of the poems started or possibly ended with the lines Im a noodle, youre a noodle. Will you marry me? I had read and reread many of the poems during my very young life. When we moved so many years ago, my book didnt make the journey. However, over the years the words Im a noodle, youre a noodle have haunted me. They make me smile and remember how delighted I was reading from this magical book.

I found among my belongings notebooks containing many poems I wrote in the 40s and 50s starting when I was in my late teens. I now find them quite remarkable in their psychological search for the meaning of life, my life. Some are humorous, some are quite sad but mostly I wrote randomly never expecting them to see the light of day. As I reread some of them, I thought they deserved a place in a book. Or to paraphrase, Im noodling around and trying to weave the rhythm of my words into a pleasing word picture. The first few pages include poems I wrote at the age of 9, 10 and 11.

They are not necessarily noteworthy but I thought I should include them. The old saying is that writers write and I started early and returned to writing about ten years later with more poetry and then much later with short, short stories, a journal, a book and another book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 21, 2004
• ISBN: 9781462832453

Book preview

I’m a Noodle, you’re a Noodle Will you Marry Me

Image341.JPG

Helen Lewison

Copyright © 2003 by Helen Lewison.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

21428

Contents

I’M A NOODLE, YOU’RE A NOODLE WILL YOU MARRY ME?

POLLYPOP AND THE GIGGLEDOGS

POEMS

I GOT MARRIED ON JUNE 17,1945 AND MOVED TO HOUSTON, TEXAS

MARRIED—STILL BROODING; PENSIVE AND WISTFUL

I SLEEP WITH A WHITE MAN

NOTEBOOK THREE

AND NOW FOR NOTEBOOK FIVE

FORGET THE POETRY

OUT OF ORDER

TONGUE IN CHEEK

EARTHQUAKE

SPRING ON TOP OF A HILL

ENCHANTMENT

BREATHING DEEP

THE CHINESE LAMP

LAST PERFORMANCE OF DUTY

SAN FRANCISCO

TID BITS

THE ULTIMATE GOAL

THE WRONG LANE

FEAR—ANGER—PLEASURE

SOLITUDE—VEGETATE—SAVVY

BLUE/GREEN

NOUN—QUESTION

LIKE WHERE IT’S AT

MOON CHILD

This book is dedicated to the memory of my father who introduced me to the beauty of poetry and to my mother who gave me the gift of freedom to explore the world around me. I was truly blessed to have such outstanding parents; my father the intellectual introvert, a writer of plays and poetry; and my mother, the warm loving woman who opened the door of life for me.

Image348.JPG

I’M A NOODLE, YOU’RE A NOODLE WILL YOU MARRY ME?

Long ago I had a book of poetry and one of the poems started or possibly ended with the lines I’m a noodle, you’re a noodle. Will you marry me? I had read and reread many of the poems during my very young life. When we moved so many years ago, my book didn’t make the journey. However, over the years the words I’m a noodle, you’re a noodle have haunted me. They make me smile and remember how delighted I was reading from this magical book.

I found among my belongings notebooks containing many poems I wrote in the ‘40’s and ‘50’s starting when I was in my late teens. I now find them quite remarkable in their psychological search for the meaning of life, my life. Some are humorous, some are quite sad but mostly I wrote randomly never expecting them to see the light of day. As I reread some of them, I thought they deserved a place in a book. Or to paraphrase, I’m noodling around and trying to weave the rhythm of my words into a pleasing word picture.

The first few pages include poems I wrote at the age of 9, 10 and 11.

They are not necessarily noteworthy but I thought I should include them. The old saying is that writers write and I started early and returned to writing about ten years later with more poetry and then much later with short, short stories, a journal, a book and another book.

I did write one wistful piece when I was about 14 or 15, which goes as follows:

Walls murmuring as trains go by

Wishing that they too could fly

I hope I go somewhere before I die.

And then and then, I found stories more stories carefully tucked away in a black loose-leaf notebook. These I will add toward the end of the book. I had no idea I have been writing off and on my whole life. I never felt I lived a life of quiet desperation yet most of my written material is filled with angst though outwardly I laugh easily taking life with a grain of salt or perhaps I should say also a bit of pepper. The search goes on—who am I?

Before I start this book I would like to sneak in a short, short story I wrote many years ago; also a short poem.. It will set the mood of joy, laughter and nonsense lighting up the dark soulful words you will find on the following pages.

POLLYPOP AND THE GIGGLEDOGS

One bright green day among the leaves of summer were tiny creatures playing hide and seek in the shadows. No one knew about their being there because only a very observant person could see them. One would have to lie down in the grass and be very quiet and maybe, just maybe you would be lucky enough to see the giggledogs.

One day a little girl named Polly came out to play among the green grassy leaves of summer and sure enough while she lay down to rest in the bed of warm grasses, she saw the