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Monthly Archives: July 2012
Sitting Pretty
Sitting pretty in her rocking
chair. Mommy’s pearls draped around
her neck. Bright pink lipstick traces a crooked
oval near her mouth.
Its broken pieces placed
carefully on her pink
dresser. She crosses her lacy socked
feet at the ankles, kicks them out
and in to make her chair
rock. A little giggle escapes each time the pearls fly
out from her dress. She’s not yet heard she’s not
pretty enough or too
short, or her clothes are
plain or teeth crooked or she
weighs too much. Nothing yet to chip
away at the giggles. Keep her here in this pink
room, with Mommy’s pearls, sitting
pretty in her rocking
chair, as long as you can.
Soaring and Letting Go
Let go let go let go
Fly from where you stood,
your feet mired in the thick, angry mud
of disappointment and wrong turns.
Your body is no longer weighed down,
like rain-soaked earth.
It all falls away, sweet raindrops
from a summer cloud.
Let go let go let go
The sun lifts you, pulls you in
and you fly, leave it all behind,
freeze there in your mind,
soaring, silent, set free,
then eased into the azure water below,
Everything Burns
What am I doing? Standing here
in the driest, cracked land that hasn't felt
water in months. I breathe in red dust and choke
it out, blink it from my eyes in reddish tears.
Everything snaps when you walk on it,
including me, and I throw a match just to hear
the crackling, to feel the burn of every smoky
breath that seers my throat, to taste the soot
of angry regret. Everything burns.
everything
Angles
Angles
“Good art is art that allows you to enter it from a variety of angles and to emerge with a variety of views.”
Mary Schmich
Stumpy Lake Trees
Shadows
Creeps like a fog over an early
morning harbor, settles in, leaving all
beneath it damp and cold.
Hovers and follows, even if
sun can push it aside, it stays,
dark clouds and low rumbles that never
leave, reminders of following
darkness.
Even inside it lurks, with every
light bulb on, shadows haunt corners,
follow always.
The fog, dark clouds, thunder, shadows,
the darkness stays because it is inside.
It is in every dropped tear, each unanswered
phone call, every minute spent staring
at the wall.
Lives in dark hopelessness hidden
in seemingly ordinary days, threatening
to break and crash like a massive wave
of uncontrolled sadness.
Shadows are always there.
Lonely Tree
Good Morning!
Good morning….echoes throughout my blog which has yet to find readers 😉 . That’s ok. I will continue to share. If you write it, they will come, right? Well, maybe…
“I have learned now that while those who speak about ones miseries usually hurt, but those who keep silence hurt more. ”
― C.S. Lewis
This is what I am contemplating today. There are times I want to hide and run away and hear only silence for days. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I want to be dropped off in the middle of the forest somewhere, such is my need to escape the chaos around me. Do other people feel the same? I don’t know. Some people thrive upon it, I think.
When I feel bad, really bad, like the kind of bad where I am spending hours with the pillow over my head and purposely stepping in front of speeding cars, I don’t want to talk to anyone. I don’t want to hear from anyone. I want to be ALONE. And yet, somewhere inside I know that isolation is not the answer. I have to force myself to talk to people, to step outside the house.
And, usually, the things I least want to talk about the the things I need to talk about most….
Pathway
Where does it all really lead anyway?
Butterfly Garden
The blooms dotted the green bushes in colors
only summer could dream, blends of yellow,
orange, pink, and red. They lulled me
with their sweetness, and I hovered there
in the stillness, as butterflies descended
on to the splendid blooms. They drifted all
around me, each one painted with her own
enchanting pattern, her own combination of colors.
They were summers snowflakes, each perfectly
different, as they drifted in the sweet breeze
of summer and floated among blooms. Sun
pushed down with summers heaviness, and
I waited to see two butterflies that matched,
in color and pattern. Those flowers flooded
in June colors boasted more fluttering beauty
than I could have imagined before that day, and yet
it stays with me that there were no pairs, no
connections. They all flew alone.
Butterfly
Welcome!
Welcome to the newest version of my blog. I have a way of putting things down in writing and then deciding to erase them out of existence. Do other people do that? Anyway, I promise to keep this blog going if anyone else comes along for the ride with me. Last time, it was only photos and poems. This time, nothing is off limits. So, I invite you to join me as I try to figure things out, mostly people, who continue to perplex me. Stay with me as the days and weeks go by….you never know what I might write about next 😉