Raivenne’s Phone Etiquette:

Why is it such a pain getting a hold of you on the phone?

Why can’t you talk now?

Why does it take so long for you to respond sometimes?

Why? Because…

I generally do not answer the cell phone, or text, when in the presence of friends/family/co-workers etc.

…Unless I am waiting for a certain call, or it is from one of my sons. Even then, I try to step away from the person/group I’m with and keep the conversation as brief as possible. It irks me when people answer their phones and then hold long conversations with intermittent raising of the index finger to the other party indicative of the “just one minute” than turns into twenty. This is especially galling to me when it is just I and the other person. When I am with people I aim to give them as much of my undivided attention as possible. With the above exceptions I tend to send calls to voice mail. I will listen to the message and respond (or not), accordingly, always opting for the least intrusive option to the company in front of me.

I do not hold cell phone conversations when on public transportation.

…except to inform the caller I will return the call when I reach a place where I can speak in relative private. I will not be that person. You know… the one sitting the other side of the subway car, or halfway down the block, but I can hear every detail of “what had happened was…”, even through my iPod. Obviously I will text, if I must.

Unless it is an emergency – no one should be texting/calling me between midnight and 9am without expressed permission to do so – period.

1) If it is that much of an emergency you should calling, not texting.
2) If contacted between these hours without a damn good reason, you get all the attitude I feel like dishing out for the disturbance.
3) If any call between the hours of 2am – 6am that does not involve the police and/or an ambulance, when I see you again – there is a chance it soon will.

Please Note: a fuck-up on your part does not automatically designate an emergency on mine.

When in the street and I need to text, I step out of the flow of foot traffic (and especially vehicular), to do so.

Very few can walk and text fast simultaneously, For most of us, to ability to perform either one or the other function drops considerably when doing both. This is especially true when it involves steps. and I am stuck behind someone walking at the speed of sludge because they have to get that last word in. Literally. Also, if I’m in the street that means I am attempting to get from Point A to Point B as expediently as possible. Thus, I may wait until I’ve reached my destination first, for walking while texting defeats that purpose.

I do not call to just say Hi and hang up five minutes later.

I do not call people for casual conversation unless I really have time to sit and speak with them. If I cannot give you my attention, or if I am somewhere where a private conversation is not feasible when you call (ex. sitting at my desk at work or on mass transit), I will tell you and try to get back to you as soon as possible. Just note, as soon as possible my be an hour or more away, especially if I am at work or out with friends (see above). Regrettably, this means I do not speak with as many people as I like, as often as I like, when I can’t give them the time I think they deserve from me (*cough vortex cough*), but I think they know that.

Essentially, With the noted exceptions, preference is always going to be given to the one/s right in front of me, whether in person or on the phone, when I give someone my time, I give someone my time.

And your time is worth it.

Visit the rest of today’s Slices of Life over at Two Writing Teachers.

SOL - Slice of Life March Challenge 2012

 

The Flip Side

Him: You will never be as bad as you’d like people to think you are.
Me: True, but I will never be as good as you’d like to think I can be.

Had to “Friend Zone” someone who truly did not want to be there. Worse, by putting him in that friend zone, I may I have lost him as exactly that.

I know far too well how it feels to be on his side of unrequited. Knowing that I’m doing the right thing, instead of the easy one, does not make being on this side of it any easier.

Visit the rest of today’s Slices of Life over at Two Writing Teachers.

SOL - Slice of Life March Challenge 2012

 

 

Easy Does It

Easy does it! How time has slipped away…
Both sons now call other places home
Each making his own mark in this world
And soon another state may claim one as son
Easy does it! How time has slipped away…

Easy does it! How time has slipped away…
My heart feels that it was just what? Last week?
I kissed a boo-boo and made it all well
Or, explained why a girl may act like that
Easy does it! How time has slipped away…

Easy does it! How time has slipped away…
The nest for has emptied for quite some time
And I mark the times when I now see their faces.
For the times between seem ever longer
Easy does it! How time has slipped away…

Easy does it! How time has slipped away…
The pictures in my heart still feel brand new
And yet marks the years that have gone by
Fresh lines upon my face tell equal truths
Easy does it! How time has slipped away…

Easy does it! How time has slipped away…
Did I not just give birth unto these men?
Who wince when I call them my babies
But my babies, just aren’t babies anymore
Easy does it! How time has slipped away…

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It’s been an interesting few days of marking time for me. I’m still working it out.

In the interim I’ll visit the rest of today’s Slices of Life over at Two Writing Teachers.

SOL - Slice of Life March Challenge 2012 

 


One Score and a Decade Ago

One score and a decade ago today, I held this little squirming bundle in my arms. This chubby little bundle had magically transformed me from wild child to mother.  The enormity of such, boggled me then and in all seriousness the amazement has not left me. Seeing him earlier week reminded me of that initial, love, joy and yes, panic. I may not have always gotten it right, but I always tried to do my best. All things considered, I didn’t do half bad, if I do say so myself. 😉

Happy 30th Birthday Son #1

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Visit the rest of today’s Slices of Life over at Two Writing Teachers.

SOL - Slice of Life March Challenge 2012

SOL - Slice of Life March Challenge 2012

 

Living For the Art Of It..

Last night I had the pleasure to enjoy Left On Red (two beautiful, talented young ladies I am happy to call friends), perform at The Bitter End. As I sat there, bopping my head, humming along, I marveled at how my life had changed artistically.

I grew up in a home where the arts were not appreciated. My father truly could not have cared less. While my mother did enjoy a pretty picture, at least  as much as the next person, that was the end-all.be-all of her interest. Karma in, full bitch mode, lands her a daughter that adores music, creative writing and drawing. I was attempting pointillism and abstracts, metaphors and onomatopoeia a good decade before I ever heard the terms. Her favorite form of punishment was to break my pencils and tear up anything hanging on my walls. Eventually, I learned to stop  trying.

In fact, I learned it so well, that I was with my late-husband for about five years before he had any inkling I could draw. Still, I lived a relatively closed life at the time and really had no other creative people in my life.  Of course, being a mother, wife, worker etc., life itself got in the way. Okay, that’s not true, I let life get in the way. It was much easier to say I don’t have time for that nonsense, than to pick up a pencil and see if I could still do any of it. Other than painting a mural on a closet door (that’s how my late-husband final discovered my dirty little secret), I did practically nothing for nearly twenty years. Then one day in frustration with my life, I picked up a pencil and started writing. That writing turned into the first poem I had written since high school Somewhere. It was a start, but then — nothing.

It took a couple more years and the internet to finally kick-start my writing into high gear. I entered an online poetry challenge on a website that required you to write a poem based on a given phrase. I did not win, but for the first time in my life, my words were praised by people who were not related to me and whose talents I enjoyed and respected. The dam burst. Within, two years I had written nearly one hundred poems. Now I have no idea how many I’ve penned, I stopped counting after four hundred. Not all of them are gems obviously, but they are all mine.

Unlike some artistic types, I realize now I cannot live in an artistic vacuum. Like misery, my art loves company. Which is why it amuses to no end, that while my childhood was a dearth of creativity, my adulthood now overflows with it. In the past few years, I have found myself surrounded by artists. People with amazing talents and several with the guts to go for it as their life pursuit. Singers, sculptors, painters, spoken word etc. It is a complete 180 turn of events and I am loving it! Granted, I have not picked-up painting/drawing again, the way I picked up writing, but every now and then, I feel little tinges of that urge starting to take hold, so who knows…?

Someday you may own an original Raivenne artwork. You can show it off along with the hardbound edition of my poems. Go ahead and name drop that you knew me when I was just a simple web blogger among the masses.

I won’t mind.

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Visit the rest of today’s Slices of Life over at Two Writing Teachers.

SOL - Slice of Life March Challenge 2012

SOL - Slice of Life March Challenge 2012

Liebster Blog Award

I am pleased to have received the Liebster Award from one of my newest followers, Eva Van Pelt.  You can read some of Eva’s lovely words on her blog “Words Dripping From The Night Sky“. Thank you so much Eva, I am honored my words have touched you so deeply to give me this.

Liebster (German) is in Dutch language – Lieveling – my dearest, a word used for the one that is your most special, the one you love beyond borders.

In accepting this award, the recipient agrees to:

1. Show thanks to the blogger who gave you the award by linking back to them.
2. Reveal your top 5 picks for the award and let them know.
3. Post the award on your blog.
4. Bask in the love from the most supportive people in the Blogsphere.
5. And, lastly – have fun and spread the karma!

A difficult task to choose only five of all the amazing blogs I visit, but here they are in no specific order:

Girl Griot: If You Want Kin, You Must Plant Kin
My fellow Slice of Life-er, is a friend I just don’t get to see often enough.  Reading her rich words was one of the deciding factors in my finally choosing to blog . She is inspiring.

Andrew Wilmot: In Narro Veritas
Andrew creates worlds with his words that frighten and intrigue and captivate you. Luckily for us, that extends to more than just the written word as he is equally talented in several art forms.

Charles Mashburn: Marbles In My Pocket
I have followed Charles for a few months now. I enjoy his wonderful short stories, poetry and the daily reminder that He Is.

Bajanpoet: Poet: Whispers
A recent find, his words whisper, scream, laugh tease and pull you into them. It is almost scary how often he and I are of the same mind, in spite of the many, may miles between us.

CastingPearls: Blowing Big Bubbles
So many say they give you a piece of them when they blog. Once you read CP’s words, you will know it for the sometimes gut-busting, sometimes gut-wrenching, always heart pulling veracity it is.

Visit these wonderful bloggers and browse around, your soul will thank you.

When Winter Cradles Spring

According to the calendar, this is spring’s first day
I can just make out the tinges of green on its way
But one more winter’s snowfall has one last say
Making this day, just like my heart, somewhat gray
Those first hints of green are a melancholy thing
My love I miss you most, when winter cradles spring

The spring day we met, the ground still had snow
And like the seedlings underneath a love began to grow
And the years like sunlight increased it’s glow
But on a snowy spring day, you were taken so
Trapped in a time warp, my eyes start to sting
My love I miss you most, when winter cradles spring

It has been a few years now, since you’ve died
And I concede, the tears grow less, that I’ve cried
I would love to say my pain has turned its tide
But on days like today all would know I’ve lied
For me it’s a lamentation, the morning birds sing
My love I miss you most, when winter cradles spring

When I look at the walls, in the spaces somewhat bare
In my mind’s eyes, are the pictures of you, still hanging there
The seasons come, the seasons go, in their time allotted share
But this, not quite winter, not quite spring, holds bittersweet air
I tug at the finger that sometimes wears your wedding ring
My love I miss you most, when winter cradles spring

Sometimes I’m hit with pangs that my heart can barely stand
But they’re starting to fade, like the tide wearing away sand

Those first hints of green are a melancholy thing
Trapped in a time warp my eyes start to sting
For me it’s a lamentation, the morning birds sing
I tug at the finger that sometimes wears your wedding ring
Wondering if, no when, my heart will ease its painful cling
Oh my love I miss you most, when winter cradles spring

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SOL - Slice of Life March Challenge 2012

SOL - Slice of Life March Challenge 2012

* I wrote this poem eight years ago when my husband was very much among the living.
* Six years ago on this day, he became my late-husband.
* Two years ago this week I started this blog, referencing the above write, but somehow never posted it.
* Today I note, yet again, how time flies regardless of fun and I post and I remember and I smile and I give thanks again to all of you who have chosen to follow along with me on this path, no matter when you picked up the trail.

Raivenne

Justice in Passing

Each morning he studied his reflection
The clear watchet eyes, brushing wavy, not kinky hair
Looking for any shift, the slightest sign
Of any imperfection that may decide to appear there

He knows he has made his life by his looks
The only liaise between his present and his past
He has sampled the best of life by doing so
But lives in quiet desperation, fearing it can’t last

His wife thought he was much too modest
Flaunting her own scintillating beauty with pride
For even the skew of his roman nose was perfect
And he should learn to take life’s rewards in stride

Her fair complexion, fine features and hair of flame
She mocks those deemed not quite their peer
Color conscience in a way not very demur
Never cruel, but her feelings were quite clear

He himself sometimes talked up the game
Convincing others with the occasional taunt
To prove himself as all that they were not
Among the faithless they get as their wont

He does not deny the momentary fillips
His proud solid looks brings about such
But he won’t saunter for fear of his secret
Because he knows they can lose so very much

But what he fears more than loosing his money
More than losing his job or his own life
When the inevitable secret is revealed
Is the torrent of hate that would befall his wife

And so they lived a quiet Christian life
The seasons passing as they are wont to do
Secure as the bell and beau of their tiny town’s ball
But not having faith they just might make it through

Thus it came at night, the sacred secret exposed
On a neighbors porch singing hymns after supper
Faces covered in pointed sheets arrived carrying shackles
In the ensuing scuffle he realized they had chained her

The hooded men claimed when they killed her family of frauds
Years ago, she had escaped, but they finally had her now
As her tears splashed on the ground with her spilled blood
He sat on the porch in utter shock, his heart bellowing “how?!”

He saw himself in those chains as they pulled her along
While she screamed, begged pleaded her veracity
Lip curved in a snarl, his heart turns so very grim
Doing nothing as they took the wrong person away

He took a gamble by leaving all that he’d known
His southern home held nothing for him but blight
When the dice lie still he emerged in the north
As years ago, he a black man slipped into the white

He moved and years later married again
This time lineage or virtue was not in doubt
But when his first-born son was of a dubious hue
It was her family who cast him and the baby out

He gave his son to the first refuge that would take him
So weary from running, he never noticed their maid
Until the clan came with the maid, once his first wife, by their side
He knew the costs of all his sins were to be finally paid

It had been nearly thirty years to the day
To be caught up with the past he had left behind
As he became strange fruit he had to concede
Justice was maybe slow, but was not always blind

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Entered in:

dVerse Poets Pub – Open Link Night: Week 33

Red Taloned Woman

He was a kind and a dependable mate
Ate every morsel served on the plate
Toed a line that was ever straight
Kind to a fault his only bad trait
He’d been such a good man ‘till that date
But then a brazen red talon sealed his fate

It’s nothing she gives as she takes all you’ve got
Your soul she turns cold as your pulse she runs hot
The words a gypsy told him as a young tot
Now a grown man those words were forgot

Beware the red taloned woman

Another Friday night hanging out with the men
Teasing as they’re wont to do now and again
That at thirty he was for all intents still a virgin
They all knew how picky he was with women
But then a red taloned gal crooked a finger at him
And they all swore they heard his neck pop in the spin

Her half concealed eyes seemed to be for just one
He was warned she’ll be the end of you son
But the warning was forgotten, he was simply undone
Brother, it was over before it begun

Beware the red taloned woman

Trapped in the headlights of her hips sway
Before Luna passed again their way
She had become his married lady
First he lost ability to have his own say
Her meanness caused friends to fall away
As he himself slowly started to fray

Her sexuality a hex she used to subdue
Nipped like only a man in lust could do
He didn’t first notice the changes she put him through
Forgot he was warned she’ll steal the heart out of you

Beware the red taloned woman

While he worked to the bone as she lounged about divine
Wearing expensive fur, sipping expensive wine
He fell into the groove of buying her everything fine
She went alone out to town dressed to the nine
His friends tried to shore up his lack of spine
But red taloned fingers kept him neatly in line
At least until the first of his credits decline

Never satisfied with whatever he’d try
Her body no longer in quick supply
He starts to see she was bleeding him dry
Long forgotten warnings held the answers why

Beware the red taloned woman

Her merest wish he aspired to demand
She thought she had him under total command
He followed when she went out for a night’s stand
She knew he watched as she loved another in the sand
She laughed until she saw the gun in his hand
Now he’s serving twenty at state prison upland

He wonders how his neat life ripped at the seams
Then the gypsy’s words come back in his dreams
For four nights straight they feltthe jolt of his screams

Beware the red taloned woman

It’s nothing she gives as she takes all you’ve got
He was warned she’ll be the end of you son
Her sexuality a hex she used to subdue
Long forgotten warnings held the answers why

Beware the red taloned woman
Beware the red taloned woman
Beware the red taloned woman

beware the red taloned woman

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Entered in:

dVerse ~ Poets Pub
OpenLinkNight – Week 31

The List

Them! She turns and points out to the ones
Sons of a son who once harmed her young dear
Years paid with glee at her blatant lying
Sighing, I check her on the list with ease

Please help! My child dies! A mom screams and begs
Dregs! Responds the suit ignoring her needs
Pleads we just can’t fund this, now close the doors!
Scores the suit on my list for lies, the fool

Cool water sprinkles her newly done face
Placed perfectly by the surgeon’s hand
Grand, she still wants a little done right there
Unaware her name has just been marked down

Frowns cross his brow as he simply just stares
Dares himself to leave her, just walk away
“Staaaay” purrs a voice not his wife and he smiles
While I write his name to my dossier

Beware! Fists comes down on unaware face
Trace the tears that fall along with his goal
Rolls the jewelry he’s craved so deep inside
Snide for a moment, I check off his name

Same old, same old she says with a sneer
Leers at the ones who can’t afford her styles
Smiles as she plied with even more trite things
Brings her to my list with renowned due haste

Waste best described most indolent ways
Staying far from hard work Oh she’ll try
Dry her nails is the most effort given
Livin’ as though, I can’t check one more name

Blame? I have none the choice made is their path
Wrath, Greed, Pride, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Sloth,
Cloths my claim for the dark souls of theirs
Care not on the cause for their deadly sin
In smiling silence, add names to my list

Gist? Your name could be added next, ahem!

Anagram of Sin

Did anyone notice the pattern? This poetic form is called a Rime Enchainée. The pattern of the Rime Enchainée is very simple – the last word of each line rhymes with the first word of the following line, and the last word of the last line rhymes with the first word of the first line, bringing the form back full circle.

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Entered in:

Poetry Picnic | Week 26 – Seven Deadly Sins