Midnight Flute

I remember it was late
late in the night
I had just turned off
the bedroom light
Humming an old tune
I couldn’t remember the words
I just stopped
when a sound was heard
As sound that challenged
teased, taunted
So pretty, yet so alone
it seemed almost haunted
Standing in the darkness
I could feel it surround me
Bringing its presence
to everything around me
Reminding me of past evenings
serene and tame
Of fire and romance
when love was in flame
The memories of things
I still regret
Past happenings, mistakes
I wanted to forget
My knowledge of the moment
suddenly lost
The sounds turning my thoughts
to such utter chaos
It was a long time before my hands
touched the blinds
Seeking out whatever
I hoped to find
Which turned out to be
just an empty street
Quiet and deserted
not a soul to meet
Only the silent moments
that lingered on
Made me realize
the sounds were gone
Its chilling warmth
and heated cold
Newly arrived
yet centuries old
Leaving me to wonder
if ever again
Would I hear the warm sounds
of such a cold friend
Or was it an enemy
I’ll never get to know
With its once becoming sounds
now haunting me so

>========<

Entered in

Thursday Poets Rally Week 64 (March 22-28, 2012)

And I’m Off…

By this time last year, I had attended the first five of far too many funerals. By years end I had officially dubbed 2011 as The Year of the Departed. I am happy to say 2012 bodes far better for me as I now dub it The Year of The Travels. January found me visiting Boston and Philadelphia. In February it was Richmond, Virginia. April will find me spending some time in New Jersey and May will see me cross an ocean to visit Paris.

I sit here now having checked all my jots and tittles yet again as I prepare to head to San Diego tomorrow (betcha thought I forgot about March didn’t you?), I’m already plotting to see how long I can keep this streak going.

Stay tuned…

>==========<

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

SOL - Slice of Life March Challenge 2012

I Felt You…

I felt you

A city with millions of people wedged between us

You touched me

A slow, easy gossamer susurrus 
Eased from the back of my mind
And worked its way forward

Past the myriad of shopping list for groceries,
Home improvement projects and dry cleaning runs
Skipping over the reminder for the 1:30 meeting
And it was already 1:27
Through the jungle of facts, figures and techno babble
That will be my form the verbiage in a few moments 
And took over the forefront of my mind,
My heart, my physical and emotional soul
And dropped them straight into the moments
Just before afterglow

And I inhale

Gone was the fluorescent office glare
The soft glow of candlelight
All that I can see
The white noise of voices
Replaced by the soothing sounds of bass sax heat
All that I can hear 

And I exhale

Vanilla hazelnut coffee, transformed 
Into the vanilla scented musk of incense
All that I can smell

And I inhale

The slow cool slip of air over my tongue
Past parted lips, 
Bring back the sweetness of your breath
All that I can taste
In whole, a combination to 
Arch my spine backwards
As I subconsciously thrust forward
To the feel of your fingers
All that I can touch 

And I exhale

As fate, spite, karma, Murphy’s Law intervene
My phone rings just as
A co-worker steps up to my desk
My response to both a questioning “Yes?”
And I’m trapped at the verge 
As you and he ask in stereo
“Are you coming?”

And I inhale

He for the meeting now a minute late
You for the dinner in a few hours hence
And somewhere in the echoes of silence
Between the flap of a hummingbird’s wing
The atom’s splitting 
And my “Oh!” of surprise
I realize the answer to both question
And a third
That could just as easily 

Be asked of myself
I close my eyes, grasping the phone
And the arm of my chair tighter
The inside of my cheek taking the punishment
Of my suppressed moan
As I answer all three yet one question

And I exhale

“Yes…”

>==========<

Entered in..

dVerse Poet’s Pub | OpenLinkNight – Week 35

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

SOL - Slice of Life March Challenge 2012

Can You Say Clueless…?

Taking a break to enjoy some of this lovely weather we’re having today and had a chance to enjoy the following:

Two women walking in opposite directions cross paths. One stops the other in her tracks.

Young Woman 1: Wow, that’s a great tan! Were you on vacation, or use a salon?
Young Woman 2: Um… I’m black.
Young Woman 1: You totally are! So, was it like, Jamaica or something?
Young Woman 2: (Looks at Young Woman 1 with an expression that clearly screams “ARE YOU EFFING STUPID!” before stepping around her and keeps walking.)
Young Woman 1 (sees me trying not to giggle): What?

I turned and walked, away shaking my head. I swear, sometimes I love my city, for no other reasons than random moments just like this.

>========<

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

SOL - Slice of Life March Challenge 2012

 

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…

>==========<

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 

 


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.

>========<

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

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

>========<

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

>========<
Entered in:

dVerse Poets Pub – Open Link Night: Week 33