Tag Archives: cleansing breath

For While She Weeps

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For while she weeps,
Sorrow keeps as
pain sweeps her heart.
Torn apart as
it thwarts the chance
to romance the
soul’s dance that’s stilled.
Passions killed by
tears spilled in ache.
Spirit breaks. It’s
a snake that crawls,
As it sprawls there
then squalls and rails
driving nails, it
assails heart’s halls.
But it falls hard
Soon all hurts slow.
Pain will go, and
she’ll know – she’s free.

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This is a Than Bauk form.

The Than-Bauk is a three line “climbing rhyme” poem of Burmese origin. Conventionally a witty saying or epigram, it’s even shorter than a haiku, but a lot more structured. Each Than-Bauk is three lines of four syllables each with the rhyme on the fourth, third and second syllables of each line respectively.

O. O. O. a.
O. O. a. O.
O. a. O. O.

Than-Bauks can be chained together to form a longer poem where the last syllable of the third line starts the rhyme of the next…

O. O. O. a.
O. O. a. O.
O. a. O. b.
O. O. b. O.
O. b. O. c.
O. O. c. O.
O. c. O. etc.

or you can “staircase” them…

O. O. O. a.
O. O. a. O.
O. a. O. b. 

O. O. O. b.
O. O. b. O.
O. b. O. c. 

O. O. O. c.
O. O. c. O.
O. c. O. etc.

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dVerse Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight – Week 59

Remember Prayer

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So just, come to me, for anything at all,
Call my name, it is yours to call.
Feel my faith in you, when you can’t find your own,
And always remember, you’re never alone
Freddy Jackson featuring Najee / All I’ll Ever Ask

Yes, sing My praises in hymns when times are good
But it’s the hard times where faith is truly understood
When you’ve had a brush with life’s shortfalls
Some offer prayer, every chance they could
Others are too afraid when they know they should
For all succumb to the curve of life’s pitfalls
So, whether you scream for My name out loud
Or kneel to Me in the quiet, anything but proud
It’s never too late to rise from a downfall
So just, come to Me, for anything at all

Reach out for Me, just reach out with upturned hands
I know the forces don’t always let things go as planned
And be not ashamed if you’ve never before prayed at all
Come to Me now, come to Me, I will understand
Remember it is My footprints that are seen in the sand
When the die lie still and you’re pressed against the wall
When you fear you have finally lost it all indeed
A simple prayer is the liaise to all you need
And never feel any request is too great or too small
Just call My name, it is yours to call

When your skies shift from watchet to gray
And a torrent of troubles come your way
For you’re worn, you’re tired – weary to the bone
When you feel you’ll never, have a say
In all the cruel games that life can play
When the darkness invokes your heart to moan
When you’re convinced without a doubt
That your end seems like the only way out
In the times when it feels your faith has flown
Feel My faith in you, when you can’t find your own

“In the beginning…” starts The Word’s first page
“…Christ be with you all. Amen” marks the final stage
From the first fillip of light I’ve ever shone
That setup the first of a Seven-Day age
Words that still have the power to assuage
Words that can inspire, words that help to atone
On those days, when you’re lost as what to do
Remember “These sayings are faithful and true.”
My love is reaped in reward as all love sown
And always remember, you’re never alone

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dVerse Poets Pub | OpenLinkNight – Week 58

Hyde Park Poets Rally – Week 71

Reading Raivenne

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When the Book of Me was fully open to the life of you, it was tough handling what was written on those really private pages wasn’t it?  Now that the private section is closed off to you, it’s tough not always knowing what’s written there. Especially, the private parts you think may be about you.

Sucks for you, huh?

And what if there are? Private parts written about you…

I could tell you that there is nothing concerning you, but it’s me, with a history of you. We both would know that for a blatant lie. A part of you is always going to be in that very private section of me.

I could tell you a truth that may have something to do with you, but what could you do about it even if you wanted to? Would it assuage your curiosity? Build an even thicker wall between us?

I could mind fuck with you and tell you, yes there is something, something that I can’t tell you, knowing the curiosity of such would drive you crazy. But I couldn’t live with myself putting you through that for no reason other than Schadenfreude.And I am happy to say, I now care a hell of a lot more about who I see reflected in my mirror, than who I thought I saw reflected in your eyes.

Or I could do exactly what I did, and tell you the truth…there is nothing concerning you, that you need to know about. I know, you do not like not knowing anything that may concern you. It may bug you for a hot second, but by the time you’re reading this (if you ever do), I know you’re already over it.

(I hope) you know me well enough to realize, if it really were important for you to know, I’d tell you.

So you say you can’t read me any more, not the way you used to. Is it really that surprising? We had a long time apart and neither of us are the same people anymore. I had to quickly learn to build one bitch of a thick ass wall to function around you without falling apart. The wall held shakily at first, but it is formidable now. I don’t know how to lower it.

Besides, I don’t think I should.

When I desperately need a friend to open up a page to at 3am, your name is no longer on the short list which comes to mind. While, I may still choose tell you things others may not be privy to, you’re no longer among those few 3am-ers.  Thus you no longer have access to deep private pages written any more. And that really is a shame; for you were an excellent sounding board once.

These are the new chapters of the Book of Me.

Only time will tell if you are a continuing character…

…Or already an epilogue.

Of Plans And Raivenne

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Plans change and now my day is free
To vegetate?
No not
I.

Shades await this
bluest
sky.

I must enjoy
This gift,
Bye!

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Yes, another Zeno poem (Ten lines with the syllable count: 8/4/2/1/4/2/1/4/2/1 and a rhyme scheme: a/b/c/d/e/f/d/g/h/d). Because the day is too beautiful to stay in for anything verbose.

Enjoy your weekend folks – I’m outta here!

When Winter Cradles Spring

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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

First Snow

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I went to sleep in a foul mood and it has followed me to my waking hours. No, not foul because it denotes anger, I’m not feeling angry. I’m feeling inexplicably… hurt. Okay, maybe not totally inexplicably now that I’ve identified the correct emotion, yet I’m feeling it nonetheless and the weather is not helping in the improvement of it.

I’m staring out of the window watching the first snow of Winter 2011/2012. The artist in me can’t help but admire the pretty, pristine fluffy whiteness as it gently vales. As for the rest of me? I am not happy. It’s still officially early autumn. Snow? In New York City? In October? Any snow after Veteran’s Day but before December gives me pause, but it’s in November so I can accept it, but this? There is something innately wrong with this super early snow fall. Granted, I already know it’s not going to be much of a snow fall and it will melt quickly. Still… It’s snowing and it’s actually sticking to the ground, in October. If this is a sign of what’s to come, I am NOT looking forward to this winter at all.

Looks like it’s going to be a long, quiet weekend inside the house and my thoughts after all.

“And I can’t keep holding on
To what you’ve got
When all you’ve got is hurt.”
U2 – One

For Amy

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The first time I heard Amy Winehouse’s voice was on the Soundtrack of Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason, with her mellow, but nonetheless beautiful cover of Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow.


I loved her then, strictly on the merits of her talent. It was a good year before I learned about Winehouse’s first LP Frank, cementing my love of her voice even more.  Then came Back to Black. I had You Know I’m No Good on my personal replay the way every one is now currently loving/bitching on Adele’s Rolling in the Deep. Amy was somewhere in a world only Janis, Billie and Ella could touch previously and people had taken notice. Amy could have taken that talent anywhere. Regrettably, as it seems with so many of the really great ones, she had her demons and they took her first.

Learning of her death Saturday gave me pause. I have learned, for the most part, not to read the comments section on most online editorials. Somehow, the shock of it made me temporarily forget and I was quickly reminded why I avoid such. The public never fails to disappoint in how vicious it can be at such a time. For every heartfelt RIP there were numerous “well no surprise there” type comments. And I have no words that would fully encompass the anger felt for the anonymous douche(s) that chose such a time to lay blame to Amy’s parents for not doing enough and to riff on “Rehab“.

Was the way she died a surprise? No. Was still a tragic shame? Yes.

I read various online articles. I was a little dumbstruck by it at first. I was waiting…for the retraction…waiting to read that it was a mistake, a hoax.  I really expected to someday relatively soon to read, hear that she was getting better.  That she was in the studio recording. That her new single/CD would be out. I was waiting…

From my Facebook, after I read the news, on Saturday:

Oh Amy, I was really pulling for you to prove all the naysayers wrong and come back swinging. May you now rest in peace in the afterlife that you were not able to find in the too short 27 years of your life here on earth.

I really was waiting for her to take that one cleansing breath. You know the one, when you know you’ve hit rock bottom, it can’t possibly get any worse, so you just breathe. In that breath comes a clarity that gets you to do nothing more than take another breath, but that first breath is the cleansing breath of hope that says you can do this/get through this as long as you’re breathing.

Alas, days later, I sit here with my iPod, breathing through various Winehouse singles, duets etc shaking my head at the loss of the woman, the talent, the potential that could have been Amy, who I will still love tomorrow and I can’t help but think…

Just one more breath Amy, it might have been the one …

Choosing Happiness…

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I once read somewhere…

There is a certain kind of person that leans towards happiness.

I’d like to think, in spite of the less than stellar periods that mark my life from time to time, that overall, I am that kind of person.

I’m happy overall, simply because I chose to be. My problems haven’t lessened. Those who have access to my Facebook statuses, see when my moods are more midnight than noon. Still, even when I’m in the midst of a personal pity party, a part of me always knows “and this too shall pass” and I will be happy again.

How I’ve learned to handle life’s many bouts of crisis diminutive and demanding come from two main sources, my late-husband and my faith (such as it is). From my late-husband I’ve learned how to compartmentalize. Decide what is important, and needs working on now. The non-important things are mentally shelved until there is time for them, or when/if the time comes, to move them further up my importance ladder. The things I have deemed important are then broken into two main categories. What can I do to fix/change/control/help/etc. whatever it is now? If there’s something I feel I can (or am willing) to fix/change/control/help/etc., that is what I work on to the best of my ability. However, if it is something I feel I cannot (or perhaps should not) do anything about a given situation, here is where my faith comes in. I simply “Let go and let God”. Once a decision is made between the two, I may still think about it, but I don’t worry about it.

Several have asked, how have I managed to move on so quickly from the loss of a husband of twenty years? Honestly – I woke up one day and chose to. I have an acquaintance, Donna (a wonderful Numerologist and avid knitter), with whom I once adamantly contested in having a choice about moving on with my life, instead of continuing to wallow in grief, when she initially presented it to me that way (as a choice). I honestly did not see it as a choice at the time, simply because I am not the type to wallow in anything emotionally negative for any extended period. Having since met with (and/or read about) other widows/widowers and have seen the variety in how we choose to cope, or not cope, I understand. I may not have been entirely cognizant of doing such at the time, but yes Donna, I see that now. I made a choice, I chose to be happy, or at least start the process to get there.

Some have called it avoidance, but that is not necessarily true. When I am avoiding a problem it worries my soul constantly until I deal with it, one way or another, by the means I mentioned above. There is a huge difference to my personal sanity (hah!) between when I avoid a problem and when I choose to place it temporarily to the side until I have the means/knowledge/etc. to work on it. It’s not exactly letting go if I’m letting it worry me now is it?

Various religions and/or spiritual paths seem pretty sure that happiness comes from within and that it is within our control. You know what? I can’t honestly argue with them. I am happy, as I said above, simply because I chose to be. And when I say happy, I mean happy with the three people I face in the mirror each morning; me, myself and I. As long as I know for myself that I’ve honestly done all I can (or should) for the situation, I’m good; therefore I’m happy.

Why? Because there are only sixty seconds in each minute and I only have X amount of minutes/hours/day/weeks/months/years/decades left of life. True to form, I suck at math and thus have no idea what X stands for. Therefore, I do not have time to waste but so many minutes on being miserable. We all have our spells on the crying couch, but it’s our choice as to how long we stay there. Yes, I know, it sounds oh so simplistic at the core, I do not deny that; but like everything else in life, it is and it isn’t. And yes, I really do run pretty much everything in my life this way, because it works FOR ME (your mileage may vary). I don’t argue with it any more because it makes me what?–miserable.

I think you have an idea now about how long I’m willing to put up with that.