Printmakers paper, acrylics, ephemera, found leaves, coffee stains, and a piece of my poetry. With painted pages ready to add additional words, feathers, pressed flowers or leaves, and whatever else a heart desires.
Found in the Lost Pile of Civility (Jan 2019)
Seems to me as we slowly decline we beat around the bush contemplate how to survive.
Generations realize this drift on a sail-less boat the cloth wrapped around our bleeding hearts words confessed on bended knees misses the sliver in private eyes.
Same old, same old story. The beginning is the end. The terror in other's minds now belongs to us. Realize hungry is, as was, and nothing eaten satisfies.
Measure our words against ourselves need I stand upon a soapbox add my rhetoric to humanity's misery?
As ash buries the smoldering coals are we aware we are wandering found among the lost pile of civility?
i recognize not
the girl in a mirror
i should be progressing
but my mind rattles.
here, sit awhile,
i promise not to startle…
then off i dawdle
to find some words,
express my heart
though rather curt
i sought me
lost along the way…
oh, but i found
amusing visions yesterday
(i brought home their cans and put them in the recycle bin.)
toil in my brain,
promptly tempt my lips
with your sexy care
my heart resides
the trash can
ugly and obscene
insides even so…
forgive the past
the broken walk
tripped up feelings
hoping i return -explore
Not sure i belong here… getting a feel! Bathing in WP love from many of you. I oft question my idea that i am a writer. How do i escape what feels like a prison? I get in these rotting moods… where i trash everyone and everything. I want to purge… i purge… than wallow in my loneliness.
Go ahead, throw me back in the pond!
On another front,
a new home,
a new town…
the comfort found
slowing my pace of life.
Popping on to WP… to say HI! And to give everyone who follows my blog an update as to what I HOPE happens in 2019.
First, and foremost, I have missed all of you lovely poets, artists and dreamers… HOPE you are well and busy as my world has been quite busy too. Beyond moving to a new town and making friendships, selling and buying a new house and making it my home, and living on the East Coast and acquiring a love of my new lifestyle, I am embarking on quite a creative 2019.
My newest interest is felting wool roving into landscapes… taken from my photographs of an enchanting New England.
The ‘Yellow Wood’ piece is not quite complete as i am awaiting Highlighter Yellow wool roving. These pieces are smaller… generally 4×6.
My piano lessons are going well. I am tapping away and happy to announce i will be able to play simple versions of ‘White Christmas’ and ‘Jingle Bells’ at holiday celebrations. My Christmas cards are written and mailed. I enjoy the daily stroll to our post office in historic Still River. The building is not manned but does house mailing supplies and is a convenient drop-off point for stamped parcels. It is a beautiful landscape and well preserved for generations and those to come.
We had one snow fall in November, which unfortunately has melted. I was able to capture the beauty for memories and inspiration.
I bought an Underwood office typewriter in HOPES i could produce unique and one-of-kind poetry chapbooks for my favorite poets. The typewriter, turns out, is in need of extensive repairs and i am waiting to hear the prognosis. I HOPE to hear good news soon. It was my intention, after all, to create beautiful chapbooks for the poetic souls who capture my imagination daily. If all goes as originally planned… i will be setting up a section on this blog to sell those books, along with my felted landscapes, and perhaps expand to sell mine and other people’s paintings. Stay tuned!!!
And, if you have read to this point, without losing interest… i am most excited to announce i have embarked on a six-month writing adventure with a published poet who is quite extraordinary in his writing: Nicolas Samaras.
I am equally intimidated by his word prowess. My goal is not necessarily to be published … i am much too shy to have the world seeing my thoughts on paper. But i took the bullet that has been wanting to pierce my skin and watch me bleed… i take hold my stained paper and profess to be ready! The funny thing is i have been plugging away at this blog for eons… most of what is on here is complete gibberish… I believe it is time to shine the apple.
Get ready for an all new Jeanne on WP in 2019. And you? What are your goals for 2019?
What am i doing here this morning? Did i not say i was gone from WP? Well a thought entered my head after reading a post in a closed group i belong to on FB… and decided to share here as well.
So, what is the group? Survivors of Suicide. A group i did not sign up for but was rather pushed into. And i reside there eternally.
I am healthier today. Actually quite happy. It hurts to say i am happy. I wear my brother’s pain… my grays and blues. Back in black on sunny days. No hat can hide or sunglasses conceal my tears.
Regardless i have survived two suicides and countless hopes to die myself. What follows is my posting to the group this morning…
“At some point life becomes unbearable… my mother was miserable and trudged through life. Her desire to die was known growing up and affected us children, as much as if she had died. I started to desire death at 8 years old. Then my grandfather did die by suicide… gunshot to the head, two months before my wedding. My desire to die increased and my happy day was miserable… it rained as my dad drove me to the church. Then, a rainbow appeared as i got out of the car. A tinge of hope engulfed me. That sparkle flickered for years. Fast track to March 1 2008 and my brother died by suicide. I was still a broken girl with dashed dreams (moments of hope sprinkled in) and felt compelled to leave this earth too! I spent days staring out the kitchen window while holding a knife to my neck, ever gently scraping… singing a lullaby to myself. Oh! and the knotted ropes in my mind would magically turn into snakes, dance in my head while telling me peace came with death.
“Lies!!!” i screamed back.
Today? Ten years later and 51, I have never felt so alive!!! I do not think about the past… my environment has changed. I live in a new house, a new town/state, surrounded by beauty and inner peace… everything before today was all a nightmare.
(To everyone in the FB closed group i told them ‘So glad you all are here. Talking. Suicidal thoughts are a disease. A product of overgrown emotions that do not know to express themselves outward. I went to therapy for ten years… my escape was to pack my bags and get the hell out of hell… i stay in this group because i cannot leave my brother. I so wish he was here. He would be happy to know i made it out alive.
Hope this isnt too harsh. It was my reality for 50 years.’)
I am always available to listen to you too. email@example.com