More than ordinary

all this blue-sits indoors-meaning to hide-the brighter doors…lift your eyes-another soul resides-smiles, says hi.

Norm’s Doors 2.0

Ascend (a photo challenge)

Ascend

I would love to know what squirrels think, when they see a person walk by, who suddenly stops when they hear their chatter above; stop, dig, reach in, snap, stare and stare and stare. Move along… For any length of time, no doubt, that squirrel is surveying an escape route. But you must question why the squirrel said anything to begin with, if he did not want company?

Not to worry, I did not ascend that tree.

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.

Monhegan

Remember, yesterday, I opened and read:

“I like the intimacy

with a patch of ground

the closeness and the drawing in,

the sibilance,

the swish the grass makes

with the scissored snap of stems,”

From her poem Cutting the grass with Scissors

well, i wrote in the margins of her book, much like my living, existing in the periphery, a few words…

digging

two worn, bent at the wrist

we share -a small token of fervent hope

though nothing stays for long

my dandelion wishes stray

easterly, past our thoughts.

Staying on the island, even for the shortness of time enjoyed, was an awakening to how harried life can become. Oh! How I pine for the evergreen of Monhegan life.

Monhegan Island May 2016

Haiku

Winter Garden 12/9/2017

Act V: lie torpid

a winter of discontent

laying on of hands

I wonder how many people I’ve looked at all my life and never seen. John Steinbeck “The Winter of our Discontent”

12/9/2017 It is snowing this hour. I rushed outside to take notice. Imagined the designs of power. A white covering made of water that melts with love and embraces the cold-hearted.

With much gratitude

This is truly a heartfelt post. Why? You!!!

I never could have imagined sitting here nine years ago. I could barely talk. Was I saying any thing? Perhaps in my eyes you would have seen the pain. I welcomed death. I contemplated suicide.

After a year of therapy, my confidante encouraged me to reach out. I wrote everything in prose, and poetry to him, and so I thought, why not gather my thoughts and start a blog. It is anonymous after all. (Hahaha. That was not quite his idea of reaching out.)

Hahaha…this! (I may have posted elsewhere, a picture of myself?)

Regardless, I have changed from those once fateful days. I graduate with highest honors, a 3.96 gpa. I walk on December 16 and will be with my husband, two of my children, and countless bloggers who have seen me through. Whether you know it or not, you do now. I will be thinking of you. And my therapist. Forever grateful! 🤗❤️

I hope to continue my blog. I have become fascinated with the arts. I have traveled alone. Taken two poetry workshops with incredible poets. I have become. And when those brief moments appear, and I slip, dancing with death, I fight as all my might will muster. And write a poem. Or paint a picture. Or visit an art museum. Etc. Etc.

The Power of Grace

I don’t think i am one to have a loss of words but i experienced something incredible this morning. How do I explain the strange that happened?

When i logged into my Facebook account, I felt power course through my body. My thoughts loosened, years of silence were broken and I spoke up about ill-treatment from my mother growing up. Relatives have not replied. No one liked my multiple posts that followed, either. But i am at peace.

So, now what? What happens next?

I know many of my blog followers do not believe in God. Not now and probably never will. But there has always been a flickering light deep inside of me, raring to light up my world. The light was starved and needed oxygen. I have gasped and let in what i was avoiding. Life!

I confess, “No more holding my breath.”

I wonder if my poetry and thoughts change from this day forward? Have i been released from generational bondage?

I suspect I might lose followers. You?

Time will tell how permanent this change remains. How strong I remain in this universe; A world of mystery shrouded in history.

Questions remain. Who was that man who gave away hope and preached truth? Who hungered in the wilderness for 40 days and hung on a crucifix for three moons.

As Mary has proclaimed Him risen! I proclaim His resurrection lives within me. 💗J

Roots (confession)

Church is poetry. Poetry is life. A life well-lived.

Christ before Pilate, David Aronson, 1949, Art Institute Chicago
(I think.)  We all like to believe we are the be-all to end-all solution to the adverse we face.  Complex problems are produced by simple acts gone awry.  Well meaning people get tangled in their desires that eventually overtake all soundness of mind.  We become corrupt in thought not out of kindness but selfishness.  I think I stand in such a bubble.

My bubble bumps my neighbor’s bubble and on and on the bubbles bump.  In time the bubbles burst and the earth is covered in a sticky film that does not wash away easily. It takes effort to see clearly.

The reflection that digs into my soul has both a hatchet and a pick.  A hatchet to chop off major faults and a pick to clear the crevices.  What is left of a person who undergoes such surgery?

Many find religion compensates for the faults of man. Those who object I ask, would you die for another? Most likely yes. Would you die for a stranger? Possibly. For evil of others? Probably not.

What drives a person to hang for wrong deeds that are not their own? Was Jesus a narcissist? A delusional lunatic? In the minds of some yes. So those who have faith, the affect of such love, to believe they are forgiven, not forsaken to their own hands, rest easy. You too may be ridiculed, beaten in the market of ideas but steadfastness is a peculiar trait.

“Well, then, I will tell you. Alexander, Caesar, Charlemagne, and I myself have founded great empires; but on what did these creations of our genius depend? Upon force. Jesus alone founded His empire upon love, and to this very day millions would die for Him.”
— Napoleon Bonoparte

World leaders such as Bonoparte are frowned upon in the “modern” age. Jesus is too. Or anyone who subscribes to such a philosophy.  So the world waits until every knee surrenders to what? If not Napoleon or Jesus, who?

Look around. Is this world any more peaceful. Do platitudes of “Be happy” make us so? Will we follow anyone who promises peace? Are we really still so gullible?

1 Thessalonians 5:3 “While people are saying, ‘Peace and security,’ destruction will come upon them suddenly, like labor pains on a pregnant woman, and they will not escape.

What of the little wars within ourselves? Are these not battles we should wage? I profess they are worthy! Inner battles given to circumspect.

Those who choose to end their inner battle we fight for their freedom to end life? Why is life not respected? Is pain only fought with the sword? Where are we in their hour of need?

“It is a higher glory still to stay war itself with a word, than to slay men with the sword,” –St Augustine

To be continued…

Food for thought…

The issues at hand are more complicated than understandable and living simple, autonomous lives, in horror we can surmise actions of mobs or enjoy peace in the chaos. In this we lay down our choice to be or not to be alive.

Government is both a curse and a blessing. Why anyone would choose to take a job that breeds gray hair and a longing to only paint and write, well enough said. I just hope all the political bs washes away soon. Never soon enough.