camera

share your smile
let your voice carry
in silence, your whisper
burns in to my heart
i bury my life with you
saw the sun shine through
the winds… feel them blow
around us and we twirl

twirl until our wings no longer fly…

certainly no poem is ever finished… at least not until i am no longer able to change, erase, recite, replace

this view from my eyes…

personal musings unleashed.

thoughts from mid June 2018

As of late i have been thinking. Endlessly the wheel rotates and nothing new is generated. My therapist called it rumination. And typically rumination has led to increased anxiety.

My anxiety is spiked. Last weekend i ran to the White Mountains. Last night i ran to Prospect Hill, to watch the sunset over Mount Wachusett.

The end was fiery.

Soon those sunsets will be a permanent reality. Life is changing. Again. Hopefully for happier memories.

A new home is on the horizon. My phoenix. My vision ripening.

This home sits across the street from a working farm. Soon my mornings will be greeted by crowing and clucking and baaaaahing. Words i can understand. Their bleetings a welcome greeting.

And i will be taking music lessons. The past homeowners are leaving behind a piano. My mother always talked of how she wanted to learn to play. She was comforted by her regrets. I learned wishes are useless unless you move to make them real.

(All the photos were taken by my daughter while i drove obeying all rules. Unlike this poor fellow or gal.)

Update: i am moved in. On Monday, July 2, 2018, boxes of stuff were dropped off. Time to unpack. So far, my mood is stable. I am ridiculously happy…

July 2nd’s sunset. Mild. Predictable. Like clockwork… i am.

close.

rather distant
we no longer speak
God and i broke up

last night
silence spoke for me
tears to cleanse

the past futile
my arms too short
to reach wrongs

committed by closeness
pain hurts when joined
by love. peace and joy…

being. entwined.

All of life is not misery. It just feels of late, a cloud hovers. Suicide blaring red letters across the skies, as if to tempt the coward.

For me, WordPress was never about publishing a book. The issue of publishing a book are the words forever etched into time. I rebel against such a thought. I strive to be free of this world. Why would i lock up my soul to mere pages? My desire exists beyond the confines of any mind.

So WordPress becomes an outlet to release my crazy thoughts. A cathartic exercise. Skimming the surface, I fear going deeper. What lurks there most would tremble, be repulsed, or worse, not understand. I feel lonely enough with these thoughts, without comments overheard. To those who don’t believe hell exists, welcome.

My gift is to burn my poems. Send them as ash to the Creator, in hopes they bring fresh beginnings. This present life has enough sorrow without my permanently adding to the drear and desperation so many witness and feel. Second-hand emotions are lethal.

My prayer is future generations will be afforded a pleasant, happy life. Absent of mine.

All of life is not misery. This too shall recover. A new skin revealed, to dress the wounds. A phoenix rises on the horizon.

new page up… the year is 2018

Emotions get the best of me. I try and walk the straight and narrow. I dump all caution to the wind and wonder why I struggle in this muck I bring upon myself. I may never learn.

I am in an in-between stage. Is this puberty? My writing does not seem to improve with age but I get a few comments, now and then, telling me to keep going. Do not give up! Your star is hanging low and if you reach a little higher you might just grab and tame the light. They tell me to keep it in my pocket for dark days… for they will come.

I fight this feeling to let go. I am sure you have read plenty of posts where I was ready to hang up this blog. Then I realize you never get everything you want (except from my husband and kids…oh! they spoil me) along the way but you will get what you need. Right? I think someone else said this and the tune is humming in the back of my mind. A good reminder that it takes mental stamina, endless loneliness, determined effort and possibly a bit of luck. Although, not sure about the luck. But being in the right place at the right time might just give me the boost I need to believe in my self. Again. After all, I was cheered on to write in my youth by the person who kept me hidden for my own good. Unfortunately, I am a sponge, easily squeezed of life.

I think it would have been better for me had she let me go. Find heart ache. I never experienced true heart ache, married to the first guy who ever paid attention to me. Living a fairy tale dream of a man on a white horse, destined to save me from hell’s eternity. Thirty years this July. And no it has not been a cake walk. The past few years have been most difficult dealing with a depressed and anxious teenager on the brink of suicide.

All this changed when a stranger saw something inside my heart that was seeping out in trickles, through words strung like pearls. I reached out, secretly, but I could not give what this person needed and we both abandoned ship, feeling used… I am a bleeding romantic. My life is lived 90% in my dreams. Not so much the other person. Unfortunately, I am easily netted and cannot shake the ties that bind my feelings to a blank screen that feeds me nothing.

So I go forward today. All hope enclosed within. I will try and keep writing, no matter the pain it brings. The tears produced. The sweat induced. This sorrow I will carry in my heart as people enter my life and exit through my pores, leaving behind an essence I try and capture for future days. Days when loneliness is too much to bear and I whisper into the wind, waiting for someone to hear.

Part of my being is to be completely understanding even if I am left pained. Self-inflicted wounds are a familiar feeling. I easily act upon my fragile heart. This is a side of me I rarely, if ever before today, have confessed. I assume it makes people comfortable. It leaves me wounded. I can rage like a trapped bear. Other times I whimper like a captured mouse in a exercise wheel. Run through my thoughts, unending. Getting no where, fast!

I will never change this piece of me. It is what makes me the most proud. To say I have sat with the hurting and have tried to bring a smile to their face. For this I will never apologize to myself. For this I will pass away and glow for future people to know that it is not things we possess but the essence of others. I venture forward, in hopes I can become a star, guiding paths with wisdom and grace.

To future hearts.

Happy writing, J

strange(r)

as i watch feet pass
i miss
the told expression -mouthed
they, no longer me

my freedom
their passing thoughts

my mind to follow along -wonder
where ever will i depart
stop to ask
“where is there left to go?”

wayward be

Who the hell knows if i will be here… today, tomorrow or any other day. If i am, hope your near by. If not, i will find my way… forward.

Always have… been a survivor. Even of my own thoughts to die. Withholding food to starve my heartache. Suffocation, in moments, while i prayed for death. A child. Yes, i was a child who believed there was a God who heard my prayers for sweet, sweet death. Until He never answered. Turned His back on His daughter… wished her to suffer more. Then whispered “Peace.” at her half-opened door. Caught her peeking, looking for answers. Cold.

Wouldn’t tell my whole story. Who cares anyhow? Well meaning people spout sugary words to the despairing child but their words always spoil once swallowed.

I have been poisoned by this world. The cream in my coffee swirls me down enough…

White Mountains New Hampshire

waiting

want me
mutable
losing you
the gurgling water
sucks your voice dry

cup the air
to my ear
no recollection of sound
too nice
to tell me -disappear

i don’t want you
to go either
desperate for seduction
a respite
from this monotone tapping