Not Safe

I’m not safe with my own thoughts

Lend me yours for the night--

  So I can close my eyes

  So I can rest my mind

  So my heart can untwist itself

I’m not safe in my own bed

  Alone with the pain

  Echoes of tears

  Across the chasm of years

  Fresh on my face

I’m not safe in my own mind

  The thoughts are crowding me out

  Pushing away peace

  Recalling the chaos

  Rippling through the past

Let me breathe

 Let me release

   Just-

     Let me be

       Please.

Burn

The smell of seared flesh

Filled the air

Along with the aroma

Of burnt hair

Tears streaked my cheeks

As my shriek echoed

In the tiny chamber

One of these days

I will learn

To use my curling iron

Without maiming myself

Brokenness

Living in your brokenness

Is barely living at all

It is scraping by

It is eking out life

On its most basic level.

Fractured bits of existence,

Scattered here and there--

Fragments of your former self--

Litter the floor.

Those who try to approach

Do so at their peril,

Treading lightly

Amongst the shards

Of what once was you,

Lest they are pierced.

Your injury is contagious;

Fear of infection

Driving others away

Dreading a demolished life.

Writing Wednesday: Revision

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/AQEpJQVpSdw5X0euONPbSIc2dfSxFFk6CXPOQ9IvKQbyCGvocH5Xlcs/

I’m getting back into the groove of regular posting here, and I want to stick to the loose format I came up with before, so on Wednesdays I’ll be posting insights into my writing process and tips for other writers.  

When I post my poetry, the final product you read falls into two categories: brand spanking new or well aged.  Sometimes a fresh poem just feels so right that I’m ready to put it out there for the world to see the moment my pen leaves the page.  (Yes, most of my poetry starts out hand written.  But that’s for another Wednesday.)  There’s not really any rhyme or reason to it, and I can’t quantify the reasoning for which poems I share right away versus those I keep back.  Much of how I handle poetry is instinctive.  

The poems I keep back can go through several rounds of editing and revision before they make their way onto my blog.  Sometimes the original is very personal and I change some aspects to create some space between myself and a difficult topic. Sometimes when I revisit a poem, I’m in a different mood and I read it in a different light.  Suddenly the words just don’t fit right.  So, I scratch and I scribble until I find the right words that fit the right way with the right mood.  It’s quite a process, and a given poem might go through several rounds of aging before it’s fit for public consumption.

Sometimes, no matter how much I age a poem, it’s just bad.  Like, really bad.  I don’t trash poems, but there are a few on the “Do not post, EVER” list.  They stay in my journal as a learning experience.  They still have value to me, but they do not belong in the light of day.  Or the light of the internet.  Or anywhere other than that journal.  I don’t quite have it locked away in a vault, but sometimes it is tucked under my mattress.  

Poetic Math

Just a quickie post today.  One of the math teachers I work with was in stitches over this, I thought you might like it too!  And yes, I did finally understand it.... once I read through the entire explanation twice.  I do not "math" very well.



https://www.pinterest.com/pin/216454325821240980/

Monday Morning Pick Me Up... Kisses!

Last night I dreamt of your kisses

Slow and soft and sweet

lingering and lounging

relaxed in love

happy in heart

My eyes full of you and your smile

gentle and slight and mine

Restful in your arms

At peace in your heart

Who isn't happier after a kiss??  Well, I guess it depends on who's kissing you.  If Aunt Edna's mustache is really coming in, that might not be an uplifting kiss.  HOWEVER, I think it's safe to say that most kisses are mutually enjoyable.  I usually wind up smiling like a loon after a kiss.  If it's from my parents, my kids, my boyfriend, it all makes me happy.  I love feeling loved. When I can't get a kiss in real life, I'll take one from dreamland.  That will tide me over.

Coffee Date

She cooly sips the smooth coffee

Held in slightly trembling hands

Not daring to put down the cup

Lest he sees her shaking

For now, She holds his gaze

Firmly with her own

Locked in a shared grin

Mirrored on both their faces

As she empties her cup

The last few drops escape

Dashing into her mouth

She briefly breaks contact

Retreating into her own thoughts

For a moment

Considering

Evaluating

She takes a deep breath

It catches in her throat

As their eyes question.

A Blowout Win

A lovely young lady in my life has had a rough time of it.  She came from a very unhappy home, and she continued on to an abusive marriage.  She had gone from bad to worse.  Through the help of some very supportive friends who became her chosen family, she was able to disentangle herself from that former life.  It was a process of separation, though, and the path towards independence was far from straight.

Towards the end of the end of that journey, she faced a final hurdle with her abusive husband.  This is around the time I met her.  I was witness to her fortitude, and it was truly awesome to behold.  It was clear the man had no idea the depth of strength she has built up through the tumult.  She was finally at the point where she had faith enough in herself to stand up to him, and it was clear to her and to those around her that he was outmatched and outclassed.  

Not long after this ordeal, I was experimenting with writing from others’ points of view.  I’ve found that a great way to expand my own emotional understanding is to try to not only see things from the eyes of others but to do my best to understand their feelings as well.  I decided to take a shot at writing about my friend’s final fight with her former spouse.  I didn’t show it to her for a long time, but kept it to myself instead.  I recently showed her this piece, and she greatly appreciated it.  She said that, while it’s not exactly what she was feeling, it fit the situation fairly well. With her blessing, I’m sharing it with you below.

Prize Fighter

I am one word.

One match.

One single drop

On a still pond.

But my reach is wide,

It's deep,

And I will seep

Into every crack.

Each crevice I find,

Tiny chink in the male,

I'll exploit to the last.

I will not fail.

I am a tempest

In a teacup,

A maelstrom.

Formerly a marionette.

I was sweet

And so pliable,

But I've cut my strings

And learned to dance

To my own tune,

My own rhythm.

You can't hope to hear my drum

Nor catch its beat

On I'll go

Leaving you in my dust.

So far behind.

So full of rust.

Such a good tin soldier.

Marching on and on,

Never stopping to think,

Ne'er a wish for a brain.

Fight your fight.

I've already won.

I’ve collected my laurels,

I’ve cashed in my prize.

Fight on if you wish,

But know this:

I have already won.

All your effort

Is for naught.

Dessert Delight

I get a kick out of you,

And you, and you,

and you over there too!

You all are lovely

In your own ways

Special and captivating

If only for the moment

For the day

For the night

It feels so right

So nice

The desire

The attention

The clamoring

It’s not that I’m thirsty

Ok, perhaps slightly parched

Not that things have been

In perpetual dryness

But my drive for hydration

Is higher than most

I do have a thirst

That outpaces the rest

But don’t count me out

Just for my appetite, dears.

I’m hungry enough

To devour you all

And still have room

For a special

delectable

dessert

Oasis

A month of wandering

Parched in the desert

The lone traveller

Relies on only

The supplies he carries

On his back

Until the blessed relief

Of an oasis--

A brief respite,

A dewy island sanctuary

In an arid sea

Fresh Poem!

Uncertain

I thought I knew the path.

I was steady on my feet,

hopping nimbly:

rock to rock,

surefooted and steady,

elated with each leap.

Then one stone shifted

turned me over

and broke me

One smooth movement

toppled my body

and shook my mind

left me scared to climb

unsure which way to go

which step to take

The path stretched before me

I stood frozen

Uncertain

Stranded

You Need Me

You can't touch me through my picture

Can't kiss me through the phone

You can't make love through a letter,

Dear, you need me in your arms

Tell me all your words,

sing me all your songs,

oh, but my sweet darling,

you still need me in your arms

Your touch is so far away,

your kiss drifting on the breeze,

you keep longing from a distance

but you need me in your arms

True Love

I have sometimes loved
fully and deeply
and sometimes truly,
with great honesty
and sometimes with worlds of deceit.

I have given of myself
body, mind, heart, & soul
to both the sometimes worthy
and the sometimes unworthy--
sometimes both in one person.

Yet now I love,
though selfishly
and wisely,
I keep my love to myself
and bask in the truest love
I have ever known
in my life,
glowing from the inside out
incandescently happy
and brimming with joy
complete

Ambivalence

Ambivalence is not weakness.
It is not flip flopping
or wishy washy.
It is not indecisive.

Ambivalence is a battle
of epic proportions
with great casualties
suffered on both sides;
each general scheming,
planning his best advance,
plotting move and countermove,
when to surge forward,
and when to retreat.

It is an ongoing fight,
often to the death,
between great and noble opponents.
A fight of honor,
and of dignity.

Don't You Dare

Do not love me.

Do not count the ways

Do not sigh

Do not swoon

Do not pine.

Do not memorize

my freckles

The curve of my smile

The lilt of my laughter

The cadence of my voice

Do not wait anxiously

for my call

For my text

For my pic

Do not plan to be with me

This weekend

Next weekend

Next month

Do not listen to the radio

And, hearing a love song,

Think about the so-called

“Us”

You be you

I’ll be me

And we shall

Each of us

Be content.

Unexpected

It is striking to me

That I don’t seem to be

Affected

At all

By this big surprise,

This huge pack of lies.

So what?

I don’t care.

In fact, it is true

That I’m happy for you.

I smiled,

I chuckled.

And blithely went on

Humming a song

To myself

In the dark

Barren room.

Confidence

I am

multiple levels 

of fascinating,

Infinite types

of amazing,

Millions of modes

of mesmerizing

I shall

hypnotize you all

simply by being

No tricks.

No traps.

No slight of hand...

Just me

being the me

you're so delighted 

to see;

Just being

the me

that must

always be

Spectacular

Closing Time

No,don’t turn the lights on

I’m not finished with the dance floor

I’ve got a dance or two left in me

Or, more likely, even more