In The Company of Heroes

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When you cried I’d wipe away all of your tears
When you’d scream I’d fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me all of me
Evanescence – My Immortal / Fallen

In the company of heroes is how I often feel
Your lives forced into a world tipsy and surreal
A struggle from the moment your first breath premiers
Clotho’s newest thread in life’s ongoing tapestry
I ignore the naysayers of your tough chances to be
I’m among the first to get to know your excellence my dears
As I engage in the daily wait of a hope and a prayer:
For quick release from the terrors that constrict your air
Trying to balance a life already in arrears
When you cried I’d wipe away all of your tears

What the world needs now is to see you fight against death
See you working towards the next small but tantalizing breath
That every morning you live to see is a cause for cheers
All the world’s a stage and you are its most promising star
And my job is behind the wings to get you that far
For the world is a tunnel vision until your sight clears
You’re just too young to know all that you go through
That I’m there holding your tiny hand smiling at you
Or if in your vexing sleep, a nightmare appears;
When you’d scream I’d fight away all of your fears

Even in the quietest moments sometimes your bodies shake
The wretched fevers your young bodies try to break
Or in the wee twilight hours how your pleas reach my ears
I’m grateful for your screams, their justice I seek
The thousand of cries are promises of a life not weak
I like to think that some small value of my Zen adheres
Though it’s a wisdom felt with absolute prudence
Thus uttered only in moments of complete silence
Though gone from me, you’ll remember in life’s jeers
I held your hand through all of these years

I hide among the simple, among the small select
Just doing a job, my soul chooses to elect
Having a temperance for each and every special baby
But the generosity of my spirit is always short-lived
When unto the new guardians of you I must give
One way or another you’re taken away from types like me
My neonatal babies that fight just to survive each day
Your headlong courage always holding such sway
As you live you won’t remember any of this I now see
But you still have all of me

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Just a few days ago I was listening to Evanescence’s My Immortal from their Fallen CD and the refrain reminded me of an older friend of mine who worked in a neonatal care unit.  She would occasionally speak of some of the babies that crossed her path.  Holding their tiny, trembling hands. The ones that screamed until exhaustion took them only to wake and scream again. They didn’t all reach it, but the goal was always to help them survive to the point they can survive on their own. Every now and again she would be lucky enough to see  them grow throughout their childhood years and on rare occasion to adulthood. Even though very few would ever know of her existence in their lives in those very early days.

My favored glosa form, designed to used the words of another, was the perfect vehicle for today’s prompt. This write is for her and all the countless others like her simply doing their job.

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Meeting the Bar: Literary Allusion

It Is You

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Let’s all Waltz Wave

This form asks for a one-stanza titled poem, with nineteen lines; each line has a set number of syllables. Pattern: 1, 2, 1, 2, 3, 2, 1, 2, 3, 4, 3, 2, 1, 2, 3, 2, 1, 2, 1. Words may be split into syllables to fit the pattern. This form seems to educe a soothing cadence as the lines gently increase and decrease, so it is suggested that topic chosen for this form also be soothing.

Big Montana Sky

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As I lay on my duster, watching the big Montana sky
Like I have so many nights before, watching the time carve by
I know that this cattle drive, was worth all the time of the run
But on nights likes these, no nights like these are never any fun

The ambiance of a crystal clear night, I cannot deny
As I lay on my duster, watching the big Montana sky
But all my thoughts now turn to you, as I watch the campfire
Each flame a flimsy copy, of you when filled with desire

Those jolts of emerald flashes, which herald your fluid moods
How well I’ve learned to read them, the bad, the ugly  and the good
As I lay on my duster, watching the big Montana sky
My longing for your touch is so deep, I damn well want to cry

I squeak out a prayer to the heavens, that you still feel the same
Upon my return to you, I shall ask you to share my name
In the meantime, the thoughts of your dew soft skin just get me by
As I lay on my duster, watching the big Montana sky

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Welcome students! – Today’s form is the Quartern.

The quatern is yet another French form. It consists of four stanzas of four lines, or sixteen total lines. The quatern is a syllabic form, meaning that there are a required number of syllables per line. Traditionally there are eight (8) syllables per line (or tetrameter, to those who want to get all technical), but it does NOT have to be iambic!!  (Yes, I took very creative license by using fifteen syllables in  my example above.)

The other trait of the quatern is that there is a repeating refrain, similar to a kyrielle. In this case, the refrain is repeated one line lower in the poem in each stanza until in the fourth stanza it’s the fourth line, like below…

Line 1 (refrain)
Line 2
Line 3
Line 4

Line 5
Line 1 again (Line 6)
Line 7
Line 8

Line 9
Line 10
Line 1 again (Line 11)
Line 12

Line 13
Line 14
Line 15
Line 1 again (Line 16)

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dVerse Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight Week 70

My Than-ks Bauk To You

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I know some curse
This perverse form
dVerse I smile.

For all the while
Poets style, words
Beguile, they do!

Sweet Pub ‘tis true
My thanks due, yes
To you in verse.

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Because I just know the widget will expire if I try to wait until much later to post this, I do so now.  My sincere thanks to all of you who attempted this week’s Form For All the Than Bauk.  I have enjoyed these past two days reading all the fun, poignant, dark, wonderful and deliciously interesting takes on the form.

dVerse Poets Pub | Form For All – Than Bauk

Query…

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So, a friend posed an interesting query in one of my Facebook groups:

“So here’s the question. If you there was a button that you could push that would give you superpowers but would also permanently change you to the opposite gender – would you push it? Would it be a hard decision, whether your answer was yes or no? Or is it an obvious choice?”

My initial response was heartfelt No!  I enjoy being female in this modern-day and age.  For all the roads we have yet to travel equality wise etcetera, so many more have opened up for women just in the past hundred plus years alone it is a great time to be female.

But then I stopped thinking about me, and me being me, went and did what I always do and over thought the hell out of it in a generic sense.

In a transgender scenario, the flip to the opposite sex is obvious, having a superpower to boot is a bonus. This sex switch mostly becomes of interest for the cisgendered.

What of the woman who now has all the physical characteristics of a male, but her heart and soul would remain feminine?  If the new body build is proportionate to the original (a tall, fat male becomes a tall, fat female etc.), I’d say that is going to make the desire to wear a dainty dress interesting.  Is she in drag now?

Let’s go down to another level, sexuality.  A hetero male is now in a woman’s body. His sexual preference is still for females – you just know someone is going to ask if this now makes him a lesbian.  Yes, he can now teleport, but can he handle the perception of being gay?

And speaking of perceptions….

This is looking at it from the view of the person who chooses to push the button.  What of the married hetero female, who did not choose to switch and power up, who now has to deal with having a wife? What if they live somewhere that does not recognize gay marriage? Hell, what if the husband, in his new bodacious female body, is even prettier than she?  Trust me – some women are going to go there.

Oh, that rabbit hole is getting pretty damn deep there isn’t it, Alice?

Now let us swing that spot light from the generic back to specific -aka me- again.

Would I be willing to trade being a female to have the ability of flight, telepathy or telekinesis, shape-shifting or a myriad of other self-serving powers? Absolutely not.

However, what if with a push of that magical button I have the ability to heal?

  • With just a simple touch – the mangled body from a car crash – restored.
  • The baby born with a deformed heart – now whole.
  • Make that virulent cancer not just go into remission, but disappear as though it never existed.

I’m not a girly-girl. Never having to wear a dress (or bra), again would not hurt me in the least. I think I have strong masculine features in my face anyway, so other than a change of hair and not bothering with make-up would also be a bonus. My friends who know me well already say I think like a male in so many ways, personality-wise I do not think it be much different. And to top it all off, I do love my men and my women, so even sexually I’m still in a good place.  At this stage in my life, I may very well be one of the best candidates for that particular button pushing.

Were I still married and raising my children, I know I would likely turn it down without a second’s thought or regret. However, I am not married and my children are very much adults.

So if I can heal others, would the adjustments to my new body, both physiologically and psychologically, outweigh the greater good of all I can eventually help?

In all honesty, once again, I have to answer Absolutely not.

As the TV show would ask – What Would You Do?

Arlington

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I walk the rows of the garden
Whispering voices the only sound
Passing by the stark white blooms
Rising from the hallowed ground

And I gaze upon all the blossoms
Row upon row to infinity unknown
Fingers lightly touch this newest bloom
Here in the garden, garden of stone

Each bloom marking lives young and old
Lives that eventually have stilled
Some blooms have seen many an age
Some are as fresh this grave just tilled

A flag waves softly in the wind
Today at half-mast flown
Standing for the one who no longer can
Here in the garden, garden of stone

Scattered about these many blooms
Are others who are here like me
Honoring their own seeds fallen
Into these blooms for eternity

Hand slanted to brow, we are all together
Hand held over heart, yet each all alone
In laughter and tears and memories
Here in the garden, garden of stone

For they are children far too short
To appreciate their own youth
Their spirits grow old far too fast
To live and die with that cold truth

Thus mourning comes, as sure as dawn
In the 21 guns of honor shone
For we who are left behind still grieve
Here in the garden, garden of stone

Arlington Memorial Day

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dVerse ~ Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight Week 69

30/30 – 30 | BOO!

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My sons rolled their eyes at me as they always did when Halloween comes around.  Luckily, by their viewing at least, I do not go all out transforming the house into a holiday appropriate wonderland as I do for Christmas.  Still, every now and then I get into the I want to carve a pumpkin mood. This was one of those Halloweens were I was in a pumpkin carving, tons of chocolate and other goodies to give away, witches hat wearing mood. Now well into their teens, and knowing they are going to be dragged into it anyway shake their heads as they begrudgingly get into the spirit with me.

Thanks to such cinema sweethearts as Freddy Cruger (Nightmare on Elm Street) and Michael Myers (Halloween) faux bloody masks were de rigueur.  My youngest gets an idea and asks to borrow his father’s full length leather trench coat. Both of us being well aware of his imagination, my eldest and I look at each other part warily, partly with anticipation to see where this is going to go.

My youngest dons the coat and mask, pulls up the hood to the hoodie, grabs the big bowl of candy and when the coast is clear steps outside to stand perfectly still in a corner of the front porch closest to the front door.  He was already six feet tall by this point, thus he cut an imposing figure in the leather and bloody mask.  If any trick-or-treaters want candy, they are going to have to come to the statue to get it.

“Oh this is going to be good!” My eldest grins as we stand by the living room window to watch the scene unfold.  It takes a few minutes, but soon enough there are five or six children standing by the front gate trying to determine whether it is safe to come get the candy just sitting there in the bowl for the taking.  As always with such a group, some poor soul is goaded into being the brave one to investigate.

The little boy opens the gate takes a step in and stops. My youngest does not move a muscle. I cannot see him breathe; nor blink. He is a perfect Halloween statue. The little boy takes a few tentative steps more up the path, but still no movement from the statue. He looks back at his friends who goad him on. He makes his way up the short path to the first step and stops again, trying to gauge the situation. It is taking everything my eldest and I have not to laugh aloud as we watch this unfold.

“Hey, it’s just a statue holding a bowl of candy come up and get some!” The boy yells back to his friends bravely climbing the remaining steps as the friends come running up the pathway.  The boy raises his hand to get candy and the moment his fingers touch…

“RAWRAAAAARGGHHH!”  

The “statue” comes roaring to life and scares the living heck out of the poor child and his friends.  They are screaming, running down the steps and halfway down the pathway, before the combined laughter of my sons and I make them realize they have just been had. My youngest stops laughing long enough to call the boy back and convince them all it is okay to have candy. He gives the other kids a few candies each, but lets the little boy take as much candy as he wants for being the brave one.

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Slice of Life Story Challenge

Slice of Life Story Challenge

It seemed only fair since tomorrow is Halloween, that I have at least one such story for it.
And with this, the only non-fiction story of the set 30/30 set, I miraculously conclude the 30 Stories in 30 Days Challenge on time.  It has been an interesting romp stretching my imaginative path, I hope you’ve enjoyed the stretch. I now return to my irregularly scheduled blogging.

30/30 – 29 | Ask

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I was in Brussels when I received the news Nana Jean (my paternal grandmother) was gone.  My mother is very much alive and a part of my life, but if you ask anyone who raised me, including my own mother, everyone will say Nana Jean.  She was that kind of woman.  Her condemnations as wounding as her compliment as wonderful, she was a piece of work. Yes, I was the near spitting image of my maternal grandmother Nana Kayla, however my spirit was pure Nana Jean.  Though we had known for quite a while that the cancer was in its final stages and it was only a matter of time, the news of her passing still came as a shock.

I called my fiance, Justin, not even five seconds after I hung-up with Mama, but of course he already knew, by the time I reached him.  As always, he had all the right words to say to give me comfort. Still, there I was on the other side of the world negotiating a multimillion dollar deal for my company.  I was barely able to  concentrate on the deal, but I knew all eyes were on me and could not mess this up.  Luckily, I had a fantastic staff with me who immediately picked-up my slack and we got through the deal. I was on the first thing smoking back to the States before the ink was dry.

I had wanted nothing more than to get home as soon as possible, cry on Justin’s shoulders and then be the strong one for the rest of my family.  The only problem was, even once I made it back to the States, I needed to be with my family on the east coast and Justin was on the west coast where we lived. Yes, I have other family and friends who would be there for me, but they would not be Just and that was what I needed.

“How you holding up baby? Still have your curl?” Justin called around breakfast time, not even two hours after my arrival to my parents’ home.

I had spent the entire ride from the airport and the past couple of hours listening to my father and Aunt Tina argue over every little detail of Nan Jean’s arrangements.  I was not in my childhood home ten minutes and I already felt as though my head was going to explode.  Justin’s call was the perfect diversion and medicine for what ails.

“Yes, I still have it.” I couldn’t help but smile.  He knows me all too well, gently calling me out as the liar he knew I was, while I guiltily released the curl at my left temple that somehow always winds up twisted around my index finger whenever I was really upset or really bored. He jokes that if I kept doing so, I was going to twist it off one day. So every now and then he asks if it’s still there as way of teasing me and getting me to stop the bad habit.

“What was it about weddings and funerals that bring out the absolute worst in people anyway?” I finished my litany of family woes and whines. “You just don’t know, I feel like crap and a half right now.”

“Well, what would make you feel better right now, this instant?” He asks.

“You, just you.  You giving me a good hug and a kiss.” I said without hesitation, but with a little tinge of sadness knowing he’s on the opposite coast and that hug is not likely to happen for a few days.

“Ask and it shall be given,” He says ominously.  “All you have to do is open a door.”

Before I can say what the… the doorbell rings.

No…! I mentally gasp, running to the door, flinging it open.

Yes! Justin stands there smiling, arms wide open.

I flew into them basking in the strength of him pouring into me, and yes, I felt better.

30/30 – 28 | Beach

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I am leaning against the balcony railing enjoying the warm sun, sipping mimosa.   I am on vacation with the family and there is absolutely no reason for me to be up so early.  Everyone else is sound asleep, but as I watch the rising sun slowly inch across sand and seas, I am so I had a chance to enjoy this.  Combined with the perfect cool breeze, it already tells me it is going to be a beautiful day.

In the distance, I spy two lovers walking along the shore heading in my direction.  As I am watching and smiling as they laugh, clearly enjoying each other’s company, stopping every now and then to embrace, lovers really is the only word to describe them. A part of me is just the tiniest bit envious as I see him take her in his arm and kiss her passionately.

They both feel this kiss deeply as hands travel bodies. They stop suddenly, remembering where they are and laugh.

After a moment, the woman suddenly takes off running.  As they get closer, I realize they remind me of a couple I know and I rack my brains trying to remember which of my peers behave like that lovingly toward each other.

The glass of mimosa nearly slips from my hand when the answer comes to me about five seconds before they see me on the balcony and wave.

My husband appears behind me, kissing me on my neck. I turn and give him a good, deep kiss in greeting.

“Well good morning to you!  Where’d that come from?” He grins, happily taking me in his arms to return the kiss.

I point to the couple on the beach, now within clear sight and wave back.

“My parents.”

30/30 – 26 | Argue

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Darcy watches as Eric and Margo struggle to get their respective points across to the other.  His frustration is evident as Margo not so calmly takes each of his points and shoots them down as she  states her case again.  This goes on for another minute or so before Harry and Barbra struggle to add their two cents to the conversation.  It becomes more of a melee as Harry Jr., Denise and Sam jump into the fray. Darcy feels as though she is in a tennis match as her head swings to and fro between the speakers.  This is a first in her class and she is not quite sure yet how she wants to handle it.

She knows she should at minimum break up the debate as it disrupts the rest of her class who are also watching similar silent fascination.  Still, she cannot help but wonder how long can it go on before anyone in the discussion will realize exactly what is happening now.  One of the other student’s looks at Darcy trying hard to suppress a giggle as Sam, the comedian of the group, lets a good zinger loose among them.

Darcy looks at the clock and sees nearly fifteen minutes has passed.  Okay enough is enough now, she has to end it and does so the most effective way she knows.

“All of you just shut up!” She whispers just loud enough to make her point.

The entire room comes to a stand still in surprise.  Her voice is the first sound heard in the class in over an hour.

Eric, Margo and Sam immediately look contrite as they rub their respective fists in a clockwise circle in the center of their chests to Darcy. Eric adds using his thumb to tap the side of his chin while looking at his mother Margo.  Margo smiles and signs the letters O and K to Eric.  It takes another moment for them to realize what has happened and all burst into polite laughter. Just as with Darcy’s whisper, the sound is unusually loud in the room.

Margo and younger son Eric, Margo’s husband Harry, their oldest son Harry Jr., Harry Jr.’s wife Barbra and their son /Harry’s grandson, Sam have taken ASL  for almost a  year, along with a few other members of their family throughout the courses.  In today’s class no vocals were allowed.  So when Eric signed an off-the-cuff remake to Sam, Margo  saw it and chastised him in sign not wanting to embarrass him by speaking it aloud. The only problem was they were in a room full of people who can sign. Most had seen the exchange anyway and the silent argument between mother and son ensued.

“Have we argued all this time in ASL?” Eric signs.

Harry Jr. was the reason they were all there.  Diagnosed with throat cancer, this supportive family, as a unit, decided to learn ASL. This way they would all be able to communicate with him once he complexly lost his voice.

“Well so much for worrying about us not being able to communicate when the time comes.” Harry Jr. signs self deprecatingly. It was a valid worry in the rocky beginning of their taking classes,.

That was why she had let them argue. Now they know for sure that they can communicate.

“If we did not already know you were family. We do now” Is Darcy’s smiling response.