I Remember

I remember
that first night
the feel of his hair
intertwined with my fingers
the touch of his skin
as I grazed against it with my chin
the yearning in my bones
when he held me in his arms
the pressure of his lips
as his tongue grasps with mine
the taste of his kiss
and the scent of his hair
the way his body feels
pressed tightly with mine
the heat between our bodies
invigorating, and passionate
the ripples of my flesh
as his hand glides over my breast
as my next pulse quickens
I’m numb to all
but the sense of pleasure
beneath his softened lips
as the growth of passion exceeds us
need turning my voice hoarse
as I realize the noise I hear
is naught but my moan of his name
the steam rising from our backs
the sense of power
flowing through his limbs
eagerness withstanding
the warmth of his breath
around my nipple, gently sucking
the trace of his tongue
as it glides down the slope of my stomach
the softness and the passion
as he brings me to heightened ecstasy
setting each nerve on fire
the firm grip of my hands
as I bring my hips to meet his
clashing gently in the night
to bring our souls home
again and again and again
feeling the nod of his head
and the arch of his back
under the strokes of my nails
feeling the beat of his heart
as it beats in rhythm with mine
we have had many
such nights since then
but that first night
yes, oh yes
I remember

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

dverse
dVerse ~Poets Pub | Open Link Night #160

This Darkness Deep

When I saw the break of day
I wished that I could fly away
Instead of kneeling in the sand
Catching teardrops in my hand

Norah Jones – “Don’t Know Why”

This darkness deep inside me steeps
Its grip upon my soul stings
But I don’t remember how to release
I want to cry, but tears won’t fall
Hidden deep inside past my recall
And thus it remains to my dismay
I can’t shake it in the face others’ misery
And I tell myself I should want to be free
Yet sleepless I shrugged feigning the blasé
When I saw the break of day

This darkness deep inside me steeps
It slinks around like a sentient thing
Sneering at dawn’s early light
Sometimes I remember this shouldn’t be
But then that hope is swept from me
This melancholy holding me in sway
I’m losing grip on my control
Yet I smile, I laugh, I play the role
Because I don’t know what to say
I wished that I could fly away

This darkness deep inside me steeps
Crept into my soul on silent wings
And taken up residence there
So long I’ve floundered in this brackness
I know not the way from this blackness
And when it’s more than I can stand
I buckle under feeling drained
As all my aspirations have waned
To sail, to soar, live a life grand
Instead of kneeling in the sand

This darkness deep inside me steeps
A siren’s call, my dirge it sings
And I start to think I like the sound
Wondering how long before I break
I pray the Lord my soul to take
This misery in mocking demand
For the silver lining I can’t find
Knowing it’s not just in my mind
Joy’s a thing I can’t understand
Catching teardrops in my hand

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

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Poetics

Within The Folds

Within the folds of her mind
For every seam there is assigned
A memory that is now canned
That which became her life’s brand
It girds the maze that is confined
Within the folds of her mind

Within the folds of her mind
Dislike of coffee now enshrined
Each water fountain where she was banned
Indignities suffered firsthand
Nightmares you hope never to find
Within the folds of her mind

Within the folds of the mind
Is reciprocity outlined
She loves all things small or grand
Friends and family with equal demand
Even her cruel words were still kind
Within the folds of her mind

Within the folds of her mind
Are holiday dinners all refined
Homegrown ale that she manned
To be anything thing but bland
Secret recipes for which we pined
Within the folds of her mind

Within the folds of her mind
Where her faith was divined
Her heart the first to understand
The touch that is the Master’s hand
God’s grace was her soul defined
Within the folds of her mind

Within the folds of her mind
Thoughts not working as designed
She sometimes simply does not understand
I’m the adult whose hide she occasionally tanned
She’s slowly losing the ties that bind
Within the folds of her mind

Within the folds of her mind
An unfair fate, to one who shined
Now a fading cerebral quicksand
All that it held and could withstand
Just enough there to remind
Within the folds of her mind

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

dverse

dVerse ~Poets Pub | Open Link Night – 159

When It Matters

vin

So the above image has slowly been making its rounds across the internet and as a friend of mine duly noted last night —  “Being male isn’t entirely a matter of birth, but.. yeah“.

As I have seen that quote in a couple of places this year, lately as a tagline for a men’s fashion blog on Instagram, I decided to do a little digging and found the following:

Being a male is a matter of birth. Being a man is a matter of choice.

This is credited mostly as a “Coleism” by Edward “Ed” Cole founder of the Christian Men’s Network. Cole is nearly as infamous in christian circles for his quotes and witticisms, as the late, great Yogi Berra was infamous in baseball for his. However, Cole and in various places online credits the italicized quote above to evangelist Ben Kinchlow of the 700 Club, another christian organization for those not familiar with it. This explains the initial thinking behind the first line. Though to be fair, acknowledgement, respect and acceptance of a person’s chosen gender identity when it differs from the birth identity is still something relatively new to modern society and the original quote certainly predates our glacially gradual acceptance of such.

Therefore the pictured quote, if it is indeed a statement from Vin Diesel, I conclude is more than likely his unknowingly paraphrasing the original. Or possibly, a fan of Diesel’s saw the quote floating about online and attributed it to him via creating this photo quote.

All of which, in Life’s funny little way of doing things, brings me to this morning…

A regular Tuesday morning rush commute. A young guy on train, legal drinking age – maybe is humming along with his music relatively quietly until he suddenly decides the song on his iPhone was something to be listened to by all of us, whether all of us wanted to hear it or not.  Understandably, there several objections to this and most emphatically let him know. Embarrassed or emboldened by the public chastisement, he does what any man-child brought to task sometimes do. He starts singing a different song, when it was obvious that the first song had not finished. But this one was clearly meant as a bird flip to us all as it contained explicit language. With his head, back eyes closed and head phones he had effectively tuned us out. Unfortunately, two seats down from him was a tyke who, as most youngsters that age are prone to do, managed to echo every other dirty word and phrase the young man uttered from the song.  The little boy’s mother was into her own music and oblivious to her child until a woman sitting next to her, brought it to her attention. She gently chastised her son for saying bad words (again), but understood where the real blame lay. She reached over the woman next to her and tapped the young man on the leg.

“Hi. I get you want to enjoy your music, but must you sing out loud with it? There are children on the train who don’t need to be hearing all that. ”

An older woman standing next to me grunted her opinion, clearly not a fan of his behavior as well. He rolled his eyes at both women claiming he’s a grown and can do what he wants.

Sometimes, I think I have a mild form of Tourette syndrome that’s activated by abject stupidity as a snort of disbelief came forth. In for a penny… as they say so I continued. “Just because you’re  a male who has reached legal adulthood does not make you a grown man.”

“You saying I ain’t a man?”

“I’m saying being a male is a matter of identity, being a man is a matter of reaching an age where you know you can do what you want, but being grown gentleman is a matter of choice in knowing when it sometimes matters not to. ”

It did not magically resolve the situation on the train, but who knows as the young man exited at the next stop with much attitude, but without another word or song.  I mentally smiled realizing what I just said was a take on the Diesel conversation last night. So now I guess I am the first to quote my friend by paraphrasing them all  Glenn, Diesel, Cole and Kinchlow.

Timing is everything.

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

Let’s see how other’s are slicing up their day —

Slice of Life – Two Writing Teachers

Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

 

Yourself First

I was conversing with a friend a few months back, stating while things were far from ideal in my life right now, I am happy with my life in general and with myself  as a person. I was completely taken aback when she said she didn’t think she has ever been truly happy with herself, ever.  I understand it is human to have times when we may not necessarily like ourselves, but to not have been happy – ever? That is deep.  It also explained a lot about her, which was kind of why I was having the conversation in the first place, but that’s her story.

Since that conversation, the subject of personal happiness has come up several times since. Again, I’m continually surprised by how many of my friends are secretly, or not so secretly in some cases, unhappy, with their lives, with themselves. Many don’t, refuse to or simply can’t see the self loathing that is the basis of much of their unhappiness.

Whether you realize or not, It is very hard to love life when you don’t love yourself.

I spent years not being miserable, unable to get along with people, until I finally realized my difficulties with other people were really my difficulties with myself.  I’ve carried my (un)fair share of self shame, unwarranted guilt, inferiority, rejection, etc., internalized it all into a lack of self-love and acceptance. The infamous They say fake it until you make it. Well, I faked the funk well with those who didn’t know, or didn’t care, enough to look deeper. And then self-flagellated as to why didn’t they care enough to look deeper? Because I wasn’t worth it? Charming little cycle of viciousness ain’t it?

There’s a boat load of things I likely would have handled much better when I was younger, had I asked for help at an earlier stage. I told myself I was being strong, I’ve got it handled. Bullshit. I was too weak to ask for help because I did not feel I was worthy of receiving it. If the first step of solving any dilemma is admitting to yourself you’re in one, then the second step most certainly is voicing your need help and the third is accepting that help and actually helping yourself.  It’s a long road, often a tough one, but it is a worthy one. Sometimes you have to put yourself first to get there, and that may mean, reminding others that you are worthy of personal happiness not because of what they allow you to have only after their me. me. me-s, but because YOU give yourself permission to be happy.  There’s a difference between selfish and taking time to take care of yourself. And part of taking care of yourself is making sure you’re doing enough to love yourself for yourself. Not when you reach some arbitrary goal, or if something happens to you – love who you are, as you are right this moment.

Only you can do that for you.

happy 2

As I recently posted on Facebook…

happy 1

Because goodness, and every one else for that matter, knows I love me some me now!

It’s really an old adage, but to paraphrase Rupaul who has made it popular in all her blunt glorious sass,  “If you can’t love yourself, how the hell you gonna love anybody or anything else?”

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

Let’s see how others are slicing through life…

Slice of Life : Two Writing Teachers

Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

Memories On My Mind

Those memories, times I’m sure we’ll never forget
Those feelings we can’t put aside
For what we had, sometimes I tried to understand
But it’s so heavy on the mind

The Commodores / Still

I watch a golden leaf fall
Autumn’s glory starting to call
And I’m trapped in the past, a moment set
The heart stops the clock time has met
Those memories, times I’m sure we’ll never forget

It all comes flooding anew in my heart
As though Time itself had not ripped us apart
Memories from when we lain astride
Each whisper, each touch freshly decried
Those feelings we can’t put aside

We weren’t perfect, but each grew stronger
I didn’t expect forever, but certainly longer
Only to have it gone at Fates command
These things I came to learn first-hand
For what we had, sometimes I tried to understand

Oh what I would give to have time slip
And once more have the taste of your lips
The Fates are almost never so kind
And with the moment gone I continue my daily grind
But it’s so heavy on the mind

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

Using a modified glosa for a poetic rendering of a moment relived in time.

dVerse ~Poets Pub | Open Link Night 

Daily Post Logo
The Daily Post – Daily Prompt : 3/3/16 Longing

To Remember – To Forget

I hope someday I get to remember

– Madame President and her First Lady

I hope someday I get to forget

– That a cross burning in America happened in this decade

I would like to remember

– All the Spanish I learned in high school

I would like to forget

– The taste of my own toes on too many occasions

Sometimes I forget

– just how old I am

But my two over 30-year-old sons help me remember

– just how young I’m not

I forgot…

– How to tie a real bow tie

I remember…

– Your knowing smile when I tugged it loose in one smooth motion

If only I could remember

– The exact day, hour, minute I became your woman

If only I could forget

– The exact day, hour, minute I became your widow

<>==========<>==========<>
At dVerse we’re asked “How we forget” as inspired by the poem of the same name by Loyce Gayo. I went off track and chose a more personal route to remember as well as forget.

dVerse ~ Poets Rub | Poetics : How We Forget

Questions

How does 
      a kiss stop being just a touch of lips
      polite in greeting, but emotionally fleeting?

Where do 
      the contents of two souls 
      start to slowly collect and then spontaneously connect?

Why now 
      in this new friendship 
      still learning ours feats and flaws, something gives pause?

What has 
      shifted in our core 
      and lay bare that which now has us both hopeful yet scared?

Who are 
      we to question 
      the stars and the moon that such an epiphany could happen so soon?

When does 
      a kiss stop 
      being just a kiss, turning some magic corner and becomes this? 

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

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Open Link Night : Week 154

The Power of Speech

At six I didn’t sleep for over a week
Fear of being damned for a kiss on the cheek
Words my pastor were constant to preach
Ah yes, the power of speech

Working for my degree made my nerves fry
Kept hearing the words “It never fails to try”
Encouragement is a subject not required to teach
Ah yes, the power of speech

Her beauty takes my breath away
“Nice boobs” was all I thought to say
Her slap corrected that social breach
Ah yes, the power of speech

Two years later I have a different surprise
The diamond of intent bringing tears to her eyes
“Yes” brings in a star once out of my reach
Ah yes, the power of speech

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

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Open Link Night : Week 153

I Cannot Tech This Anymore

I cannot tech today.

I who work in a technology based industry have been in relative fail mode for anything that has a power button today.

The overhead projector and instructor PC in the training room are in an apparent lover’s snit and do not want to talk each other. I check the wires, display format etc. nothing.  Of course I discover this minutes before a class is set to start.

Fine ain’t got time for dat as the saying goes. We’ll do this the ol’ fashioned way and use the still active portable projector like I used to do not too long ago. It’s not as pretty or as high-tech as the overhead, but it will get the job done right? Right. Wrong. Keystone. Horizontal and Vertical settings. Zoom, only showing one monitor. It’s not happening. Oh come the freak on already! All this futzing around is still happening at 10:15 for a class that was supposed to start at 9:30. I look at my students admit tech failure and start to talk talk them through the training.  I speak a lot as it takes longer to describe a concept where a simple click of the mouse to show them all at once would have worked miracles, but we get through it.

I come back to my desk and accidentally kick something, that hits something, that pulls the plug on one of my monitors.  Greeeeeeaaat! Follow the affected line down through the spaghetti of cords under my desk and get it all plugged up, only to realize I have now pulled out my mouse in the process and back into the spaghetti I go.

A run to Starbucks struck me as a right fine idea, by then.  Well, that my colleague leaving me a note, putting the bug in my ear (a really creepy crawly action if taken literally I must say). So I grab my phone with my Starbucks app, insure I have my cardkey to get back in the building, take my sunglasses and head out for some much needed refreshment.

So, do you want to guess who got in line at Starbucks, got all the way to the front of the line, was one measly person away from placing an order when she pulled out her phone and realized the damned thing was as dead as a door nail? No really, guess who! Hint: It’s the same person who did not have a dime on her otherwise. The same person who could not use her Starbucks card instead because it was in her wallet. The same person who left her wallet at her desk, because why would I need my wallet when I have my Starbucks app on my trustee phone? Uh huh.

Technology: 4 – Raivenne: zilch

Silver lining? Yes, there is one. I made it back into the office building Starbucks-less, but just before it started to to pour outside (good thing I had my shades with me, huh?).  Also, this computer has not done anything else untoward since I started typing. Yay, the tides are turning…

But I’m not touching any light switches with my bare hands for the rest of the day, just in case…

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

Let’s see how others are slicing it up this Tuesday.Slice of Life : Two Writing Teachers
Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers