To write words in the dark seemed like a strange exercise At first the poems were lackluster as I read them in the light of morn The lines were not aligned Sometimes they were scribbled on top of each other like lovers It was a strain to remember what I had written or even why As evenings descended each night I grew more comfortable without the shadows The hallucinations were far more intriguing I grew to trust the pen in my hand I felt safe confessing the thoughts of both the angels and the demons inside of me
After years of avoidance it seems safe to reach out and ask, How are you doing? For a moment I forget about your self-induced angst. (lie) I do remember you being the uninvited guest at my wedding. WTF were you thinking when you showed up on my special day to the man the gods sent me after you royally fucked up our love??? A cute girl in my study group has invited me to dinner… you stated so proudly. Is it okay if I go? I was shocked. I could not speak.
The night before I had worn my heart on the sleeve of your white shirt. Professed my love for you on the floor of your apartment. The next day you told me about her invitation.
I smiled at you pretending not to be crushed as I planned my revenge. Go… I said on the outside.
Enjoy your last supper with me… I was thinking on the inside. Secretly I prayed that you would choke to death on the wishbone from her chicken dinner. And deep deep in my broken heart I knew I would never have sex with you again. You were the first love of my life. I gave you my cherried juice. I made a voodoo doll that night. I stuck pins into your heart and all over your soulless brainless body.
I still have the lmf in my collection. I take it out and remember the night our love died. My long memory is eternal. Our love tossed into the inferno.
It has been a while since I just rambled here. Forgive me in advance for any typos or incohesive/repetitive thoughts.
I have a newly aquired poetry disease. I’m not sure what it is called, but it sucks words that rhyme out of my brain. I set out to write free verse and then by the end, I scan the page and I am freaked out and shocked.
I was on a flight this past week and experienced the worst turbulence ever. I was convinced that my Edgar Allan Poe doll was going to fall out of the overhead compartment. EEEKKK.
The flight back was just as freaky. Our plane came within an inch of lightning. I have decided to stay out of the sky for a while.
And hopefully no more funerals anytime soon. My family expects me to write poetry everytime someone dies and it is becoming a wee bit of a burden.
I went to my first viewing in decades. I also experienced my first rosary. It was a “sorrowful mystery.” Just as I was getting into the rhythm of it…I would glance over at the casket and notice a little nose poking out and it too freaked me out.
I told myself before my trip that I was not going to view the body up close. Sigh. The woman’s husband began sobbing and I was hypnotized into comforting him. This meant that I had to approach the body. I patted his back softly and examined her face. She had beautiful poreless porcelain skin.
My mother was next to me and she too began to cry. So there I was rubbing two sets of shoulders staring into a casket wondering how I might work the scene into some sort of fiction.
Forgive me loved ones, but I am a writer. I attempt to work every experience into something else. Yeah~ I lived in the moment and took in every detail. For the first time in a year I was glad to wear a mask because it put a filter between me and the scent of someone that was dead. I mean no disrespect.
I just googled the embalming process. EEEKKK again.
And then there was the inappropriate laughter. I was whispering to a relative about another family member that had expressed the desire to be cremated. “So you’re going to burn twice?” someone asked.
This exchange produced uncontrollable giggles until my mother gave us the shut up and behave look. Perhaps it would be better to just fall out of the sky and forego embalming or cremation?
OMG. It’s midnight. This is the first time in weeks where time has just flown by. It feels wonderful…
Meet me on Sugar Cane Road Where virgins still walk on earth I grasp the hem of a garment Bloodied since your birth Trumpets shout out of clouds From evening until dawn No one escapes the trials No matter how smart or strong Beyond this day we are nomads Unknowing blind not yet wrought I entrust you with my destiny As well as every thought I had to let you go As I brought you into the world But never have I forgotten My precious little girl Healing is a revealing My hands now still and calm As I slip out of this universe Let this be our psalm
Waltz with me a while I can hear our song It still makes me smile I have missed you my love Though I have carried on Waited patiently Some days seemed so long
In dreams the tune returned Mornings came too soon It’s my turn to leave I have no more fear The sun is setting I feel your warmth so near Waltz with me a while I can hear our song It still makes me smile I have missed you my love Though I have carried on…
I have been away from all of (((you))) and have missed you. March and April were unkind. May is almost over. My sabbatical from writing will end in June.
Tomorrow evening I will be sharing one of my poems with a large group of poets. It is the first year I have been invited to participate in this event and though there are butterflies in my tummy, their flutter is kind of fun;-)
The last couple of weeks have been grueling. Lots of familial challenges and just as many friends struggling to find their way back towards the light.
Last night I was in need of a video editor and an old friend put one in my path. The project is complete, but the news I heard about another friend we had both known and worked with broke my heart. Life goes on with or without us.
On Sunday I will be in Florida to speak at a memorial service for another person I loved and lost.
As I stepped out of my home this morning I finally caught a fantastic glimpse of the albino squirrel the whole neighborhood has been talking and musing about since winter! I had yet to capture a picture of him and suddenly today, when I needed a lift, there he was, eating the acorns from my yard. All I wanted was to take a picture of him before he disappeared.
Don’t be angry my people I can breathe again here The mess became beautiful Listen…I’m near Imperfect and flawed We are and will be This world is not heaven But still you saw me Though stained as we are We hold fast to our dreams Nothing is ever As bad as it seems When my breath became air It started a fire It’s over for now Everyone’s tired I called to my mamma In my final minutes She helped me cross over Her love has no limits She gave me my name They’ll always remember I love you mamma On this day and forever
Early morning I woke up with a dream fresh in my mind. I took the time to write down some notes and suddenly I found myself looking at lines of poetry.
Do you ever do that?
Today I realized I have wasted many moments of dreams over the course of my life. Dreams are sweet revelations.
Is that why we wish each other sweet dreams? And what about the nightmares? Do they also come to us in the dark of night to wake us up from our lives with messages? I don’t know, but I have made myself a promise to be more cognizant when visitors take the time to enter my subconscious consciousness.
it was a dream was it or was it what was she or was she h er e xperiencing me was i in her mind where did we go together in our soft tiny ways what happened there did she come to me did i go to her what did we seek what did we find what were the beautiful pieces of glass that we broke or was it we that were broken i am awake but i am not i want to return to her today tomorrow please take me back bring us together again and again the thunder was gentle the music layered beneath us so sweet i saw an old friend that was gone again she led me to him he was gone for a decade yet he never left it was a dream was it or was it what was it let me return again and again again