Posted in Poetry

That be you -empty. Burns chosen to decorate the body’s walls.

Her paint peels off; removes the scars. Bones so fragile her skin slips down.

Everyone leaves her -emptier.

Posted in Musings, Poetry

Silently whispering

I have been hard pressed- trying to be my best. And in the process, lost all rest. 

Broken, storms erect a wall. Weak, utterly confused. Silent. The drums ever louder, marching to the beats, painful echoes I repeat. What is heard?

Look up! vultures. Masses circle, tease desires. Grotesque in cue. Addressed invitations to the vile.

Quiet! Please be still, my heart. Stop and play with me?

No, sings the chorus. Feeling satisfaction, cloaked with power.  Cuts deep. Power turns me on my head. Destroys what life remains, up ahead. Drains the blood.

Dead.

The world drives me insane. I attempt to love it back. Erect it, place it back in orbit. Black. Not one person hears. Silently whispering. We fade.

Posted in Poetry

Ideally

Remembering childhood days

running home for dinner

playing legos with your brother,

Why’d it have to end?

What shadows crept behind the sun

washed out memories,

lurk, no amount of fight

breaks their will,

rushing to and fro,

cause your world to explode -no

running home for dinner or reading Ranger Rick -no

your running for your life.

Posted in Poetry

I told my daughter, today, she was a tornado. And she answered. Your worse.

Me?

Yes. You. Your a hurricane, tsunami, earthquake, all rolled into one. One some thing. A thunderstorm that never ends.

Posted in Art, Musings

Life Purpose

I look with purpose toward the second half of my life.  I am moving forward.

Charles Angrand Mother and Child

Charles Angrand, Mother and Child, French

I love kids.  They possess everything that is stripped away by age.  As I get older, I rather feel a spent bloom and then as sure as I smell coffee, I perk up.  Those roasted beans are buried dreams, brown fertilizer. I find myself spurred on to make solid decisions regarding my mission.

Granted, I have been at this precipice before gazing at the world atop the metaphoric mountain peak (a cloud of whipped cream on my coffee).  I have set multiple goals, become discouraged, encountered set-backs and even given up.  It has been 6 years of college with a gap of 2 years working with preschoolers. That particular job showed me how much I like teaching, but discovered how much more I love counseling and social work.  I enjoy forming relationships with the disadvantaged and particularly homeless youth.

I tutor with School on Wheels and the impact those children leave with me is beyond compare.  When they smile, I swoon, and when they cry, I am right beside them.  I am a part of their invisible community and feel familiar with their wanting to speak.  As I speak for them I speak for me, albeit on different planes of experience.

Recently, awareness of the number of people in Indianapolis who cannot read, through IndyReads, brought a new endeavor. Eventually I want to incorporate all three of my loves into one.  Homelessness, reading and writing, to reach the creative soul we each embody.  We need a purpose in life.

To be continued…

Posted in Musings

Pardon Me

Routine Disruption

Dearest, I hope you find happiness every day of your life.  When sadness comes, which it will, remember this day of triumph.  You made it through good times.  You made it through bad times.  Always M.


Posted in Poetry

Lists

poetry in the mundane
things to do
grocery shop, the fridge is bare
and the cats need to be neutered
no time for kittens
or space.
the world keeps on spinning,
they found a new moon
and the hair and nails keep growing
the weeds overtaking
life -i tangled in the mess
attempting to make order
chaos surrounds and my only desire
to sit here and conspire.

Poems to form, the mundane.

2 research papers due by Wednesday
then statistics start
my math brain departs
my husband sits by my side
this our time, the world stops
the poetry made in our eyes.

Mundane poems
not for everyone
only for the disorganized.
I suppose I should start
before it is too late
see -my chest stops rising…

i pass the baton
and who ever shall read these lists
let us be clear
my children do not like broccoli.

Posted in Poetry, Soul Journal

untitled

Authors Note:  I was hesitant to post this as it is spun from a very dark time.   I hope it causes no alarm for those who have been in a similar place or potential harm to those suffering as I write.  Be well.

Life, a puzzle, is her mind.

A storm brewed -ruminations,
day and night.
Knives to handle,
braced -the base of her neck.

Longing gaze
towards the kitchen window,
no coverings found
to hide -hollow eyes.

A braided rope
seductively slithered
around and through,
she thought to flee -no such place exists.

Like a gazelle, a lion in pursuit, she beat the odds. Survived.

The finality of the situation was not met with fanfare. No ticket-tape parade or confetti-induced speech. The affects were invisible to all but the discerning. Those who saw the glow in her sacred eyes met the mountains summit; those who reached, swore they touched the sky.

Posted in Opinion, Poetry

seeking and finding

It is wonderful some of us are happy.
The rest live in pain.

What we fail to realize, in order to feel well,
are the tragedies that continue in the name of peace.

What we hold onto, despite the horrors,
behaviors ingrained and never changed.

What if we found beauty in all things
even those we retreat from in shock?

There is no condemnation in circumstances. If we step back and criticize ourselves, learn something about our humanness, we would recognize, no matter our beliefs, we fail to measure up in love. Love of all. An opportunity exists to stop and pause, consider what it means to be alive. A moment to realize, it is us that needs to heal.

Those who walk in a path of wisdom,
Those who face themselves in the mirror,
Those who are willing to consider they are wrong,
They are the ones who win.

The story of the woman at the well is an inspirational tale. Everyone turned away from her ugliness and Jesus turned towards her with great compassion. He listened. Love wins hearts and hope spurns us on. How many people are lost in this world? Who will we choose to listen and hear? We are meant to share the good and the bad. We must never turn away in fear.

We often walk through darkness to realize what is light. The beauty of life is disguised. The moon shines, but what does it hide? The wow moments catch our breath. Blessings, time to refresh so we can face the absurdity. For me they are mountains and oceans and feeling the sun on my face. The dark moments highlight human compassion, show us people are real.

“Some stories have to be written because no one would believe the absurdity of it all.”

“Insanity is everyone expecting you not to fall apart when you find out everything you believed in was a lie.”
“The most introspective of souls are often those that have been hurt the most.”
–Sharon L. Adler
Then, after three days they found Jesus in the temple, sitting in the midst of the teachers, both listening to them and asking them questions. Luke 2:46
We all are afraid of something. Be well, J