Hello

A man smiled at me while I sat at an open café
My usual first response: to turn away
To see which woman the smile was directed to
And I think to myself “It couldn’t be you!”
For too long I’ve worn a badge of pity
Not feeling loved, needed, wanted, pretty

In the beginning my spirit was his to inhale
in the end his spirit I couldn’t exhale

My ex’s house cleaning included the parts of my self
from the years I put my own needs on the shelf
then left my empty cupboards open for all to see
Exposing validation of the unworthiness of me
I finished the job he started on my own
And turned a heart made for sharing, abandoned and alone

So ingrained was his scent in the breaths I take
I had to relearn to breathe for my own sake

Taking fresh stock of what I wanted, but not needed to be there
I surprised myself to find my pantry no longer bare
No longer blinding myself to what I needed to see
I rethink to myself “why not me?”
A fresh breath, a fresh step, a fresh peace, a fresh start
Each breath osmosis; restoring soul to the heart

I take the shades from my eyes to let them show
Turn back to my admirer and breath. “Hello”

Time Keeps On Slipping…

March has been an odd month for me these past few years —

Except for the staunchest of my winter loving friends, most of us in the Northern Hemisphere have all reached our saturation point of cold and snow by now and want it all gone already. The hope of the longed for First Day of Spring finally arriving lightens my mood.  Even though there is still several inches of snow on the ground, with more expected tonight, the thought of soon being able to put my down coat away for the season warms me immensely.

Of course, there is celebrating the birth of my first-born. Like all mamas of adult children I can still see the wide-eyed sparkle of those newborn eyes brought home oh so many years ago in the very eyes that roll, yet again, in some annoyance that I’ve -probably  happily – inflicted upon them.  Pretty much as I am sure I will do so again tonight when we meet up for birthday dinner. I’m Mom – it’s in the unwritten job description.

What has caught me off guard this year is what usually has been at the forefront of my mind on March 1st, these past few years.  I got to today, March 3rd, before the now 9th anniversary of my late-husband’s passing registered. I mean, it is not as if I did not know it was coming, after all his birthday – only a couple of weeks ago – is an automatic reminder.  Not to mention, I’ve had nearly a decade of it now. Yet the day itself came and went without so much as a blip to my conscience. I only noticed this morning, because someone else brought him up in conversation, that I had not noticed it even in passing thought. It truly was just another day.

I am not sure how I feel about that.

One hand, it is as clear-cut of a sign as can be that I no longer grieve for him. But, in reality, I stopped grieving years ago, because I am not the kind to wallow in such an emotion for so long before I make my own self sick of it. Which is a good thing, I know it is.  Still, there is this tiny little part of me that for the first ever wonders does it mean that I am slowly forgetting him? And while that bothers me just a little, very much like the month of March, my emotions on this are a fluid thing.

It has been nine years – isn’t it the way it should be? I think so, I think…

After all, how long do I continue to mark time in this way? Yet only a few days ago I was conversing with a friend about a certain point in recent time and what was my immediate point of reference? Whether or not Bill was around at that point and to calculate from there.  Clearly, I have not forgotten him and won’t be anytime soon.  Yet March 1st came and went without thought of him. Didn’t think that would happen either.

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8th-annualc2a0slice-of-life-story-challenge-invite

 

Easy Does It – A Lullaby

I found this in an old composition book. I wrote this many years ago for a baby who is turning 33 minutes from now. Time flies indeed…

Easy does it, my child, my sweet delight
Be not afraid of the deep dark of night
Even in the dark His love shines so bright
Do not let bad dreams fill you with such fright

Trust that your Father’s arms do hold you tight
He holds you in His palm and in His sight
Close now your eyes and have faith in His might
Easy does it, my child, ’till morning light

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8th-annualc2a0slice-of-life-story-challenge-invite

Luna

woman_in_the_moon

Loquacious as stone she

Looks soft to the lonely

Listens to deep confides

Lifted in to the night

Likens their tears to tides

Lingering in the heart

Lost where to end or start

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Today at dVerse our host for this week, Vandana, asks us to create a Pleiades poem.

A Pleiades, invented in 1999, consists of seven lines of six syllables; each line starting with the same letter as the title. The title is a single word.

And as further challenge, our poem should reference to a celestial body in honor of the form inspired from a heavenly object.

dVerse ~Poets Pub | Meeting The Bar: Pleiades

Black Label Autumn Memories

As I am  walking to the train station this morning a tiny flash of something bright falls just outside of my vision. It is a small golden leaf that lands on my shoulder. Being in my favorite season, I smile at the thought of autumn in New York City coming to its glory. I start to simply flick it off and go on about my day, but it somehow lands in my palm instead.

Then the heart does the one thing nothing else can do – make time stop for a moment as I am transported back some twenty years into the past.

It is a Sunday evening, the last night of an impromptu weekend trip with my late-husband to the Poconos. He is inside refreshing a drink. I am outside in my underwear leaning on the porch rail enjoying the view of the mountains that are basked in the warm bright colors of early sunset that washed the autumn foliage before me in rich shades before the sun reaches the ochre and indigo phases of its descent. With the annoying ability to walk on cat feet when he chooses to I do not hear him approach, but the heat from the eternal furnace that is his body reaches me just before he does and I turn to face him. He has on even less than I, and by the easy smile playing along his lips I am well aware of how much he likes what he sees before him. Wordlessly, he takes a slow sip of his drink as he reaches up to pull something from my hair and let it go. I extend my hand and a small golden leaf falls onto my open palm. It rests only for a moment before he gently blows it away and steps into my arms to kiss me. I remember wishing that we had more time there to enjoy ourselves before heading back to reality.

And reality reasserts itself back into my current life as a warm gust of air gently blows the fallen leaf from my palm.

It felt so eerily like his breath on my palm from that long ago evening; I shivered in remembrance. I have been trying to shake it off all morning, but here I am decades after the fact, hours after the memory, wishing I could once again enjoy the taste of Black Label on his lips.

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Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

Slice of Life Weekly Challenge | Two Writing Teachers

What’s In A Word…

What’s in a word? Sometimes too much and yet not enough.

A friend and I, who had not seen each other in a long while, were on our way to dinner when I ran into an erstwhile colleague. As we exchanged greetings, I introduced them to each other as such, friend and erstwhile colleague. When we parted ways, my friend asks why I was so specific in my introductions. As a response I asked her the names of my children, their ages and my birthday. Basically things most of my casual friends would know, but not necessarily a colleague or an acquaintance, especially a former one. The colleague would not have known such information about me when we worked together; he and I were never friends. I’m not even speaking on good friends or best friends here, just friends. You know the people who have not risen to such importance in your life that you would invite them to join in on your vacation, but you would be happy to have them over for a back yard barbecue. I have colleagues I consider friends and would them invite to barbecue. There are other colleagues that I will hang out with socially for the occasional happy hour after work get together, but would not invite to my house. Then there are the ones, like the one above, where my only interactions with them are on the job.

We have become this society so afraid of hurting another’s feelings, that we oftentimes will give elevated credence to people to avoid potentially embarrassing or insulting them. The advent of Facebook has truly downplayed the definition of a friend. It is even sneaky in that you can set certain people to be an acquaintance without them knowing it. Yes, technically it is so you can post things to your status that your only friends can see, but they themselves would never know that you only consider them an acquaintance, not a friend. We  differentiate friend from good friend and best friend. One really has to earn their stripes for those titles, but dumping everyone one else into this generic friend folder does not work for me. Just because you are not a complete stranger to me does not automatically make you a friend, let alone my friend.

So what’s the big deal? How much does it really hurt anything to call someone a friend who is not? What’s the harm? For many – there is no big deal. It will not hurt a thing. When someone I consider a friend introduces another to me as a friend, I immediately presume that this new person is at the very least of some minor importance to the one doing the introductions. I may be more open to that person, give a certain level of respect to them based on that information. After all, based on the mutual person between us, a friend of yours is a potential friend of mine. However, if a friend introduces someone to me as a co-worker or colleague I am immediately friendly, but guarded. Until indicated otherwise, s/he is not necessarily a person to start sharing embarrassing remember the time? stories with. For me to casually introduce him as a friend a) elevates him to a status he has not earned in my life and b) undermines the importance of those in my life I truly consider friends. And to me that is harmful.

In the midst of a conversation regarding people who carelessly or blatantly misspell a person’s name someone exclaimed to me “Oh, don’t you just hate that?” Without really thinking about it I said that I did not hate it. So yes, I with the unique, some would say weirdly, spelled moniker was looked at with obvious surprise. And be honest, we are all guilty of casually throwing out the hate and love words for really trivial things from time to time. I explained there is a reason people complain that words like love and hate and friend has lost the power of their meaning. Collectively they have become so over used for such meaningless things as to be near meaningless themselves. Hate is all-consuming. Hate drives your day-to-day existence, becomes your most prevalent thoughts in all things. You channel so much of your energy into that which you hate, nearly all else takes a backseat to it. The barista at Starbucks who wrote Raven on my cup when I clearly spelled out R-A-I-V-E-N-N-E was worthy of my pissed-off tongue lashing when I saw it. Once I said what I had to say, I walked out the door not giving it or him a second thought. Because annoying as it was — why bother having me spell it if he was going to do whatever he wanted any way?– it was hardly worthy of my expending such energy required as to hate him. I’ll save that for the racists, sexists etc. out there who deign to wreak havoc on people’s lives for no other reason than their own stupidity and yes hatred. See? There is an enormous difference between “Oh, don’t you just hate fat people? And “Oh, don’t you just hate when people misspell your name?

Conversely…

“I love crossword puzzles.”
“I love those shoes.”
“I love sports.”
“I love my best friend.”
“I love my spouse/significant other.”
“I love *insert deity of choice here*.”

Yeah, I am not even going go any further on the far too many ways in which we abuse the word love. That one word encompasses so much, to make it feel so belittled sometimes.  After all, how I feel about Doughnut Plant’s coconut creme filled square doughnuts, while pure, deep  and true, is hardly comparable to that of how I felt about my late-husband. Yet,  many others would use the word love to convey both feelings – that’s how little credence  we’re now giving to the word.  Other languages, especially Asian languages get it right in having specific words/phrases for different types of love to solve the this.  I think the English language fails us greatly here to have one such word encompass so many things. And as a poet it is a major frustration on just how limited it is to rhyme!

It is true – any word we use only has the power we give it and conversely the power we take away by the over use of it. Certain curse words/phrases hold their power because we are told we not supposed to use them. The power of those words has carried on through the centuries at least until recent modern times. They are used so cavalierly these days, the shock value of them is slowly wearing off. Hopefully not in our lifetime, but soon enough, the washing of a child’s mouth out with soap for such an offense will be a dying antiquated notion.

There is a reason we have all these different terms for people and things in our lives. The people we have as friends, share our love with, even give our hate to should never roll off trivially from our lips, yet they do because the words themselves, that should be held with reverence and spoken with care, are becoming trivial. We should learn to use at least those three words friend, love and hate,  for their specialness as intended and use them properly.

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Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

 

 

 

 

Slice of Life Writing Challenge : Two Writing Teachers

Countdown

Always the adventurer, I did not want to take advantage of the soulmate clock when I was in my late teens as most do. I wanted the joy of discovery, the surprise of finding that perfect person for me on my own, you know? I hadn’t told anyone at the time, but I was afraid. What if the clock said my soulmate was years, even decades away? It was always possibility. Did I really want to know that I could be an old lady before I met *the one*? Therefore, I did not get one. However, I had promised my best friend that if I had not found the one by the time I was forty I would consent to get a countdown clock. One spectacularly failed marriage and my fortieth birthday later, I was held to my word. I got a soulmate countdown clock and I waited.

And waited.

Oh, trust me, I had me some fun while I waited, but I waited.

Twenty-two years, three months, six days and far too many hours, minutes and seconds. That is how long I’ve waited.

Per the usage rules, depending on the time frame, a client comes in the day before or morning of the event horizon to have the device checked one last time. Apparently, there were many people in my area who were meeting their soon to be significant others today. The place was so packed it was literally draw by straws to parcel folks out to other units to handle the load. Even so, I was among the last seen for the morning appointments. Still, I have to admit, after waiting all this time; the excitement gripped me as I finally hear my name called.

Martin is my friendly neighborhood technician and runs through the required spiel. Reminding me of all the things which I have heard countless times from other clock users over the years. That, in a nutshell, the clocks can only predict when you will meet, not how long you’ll live happily ever after and after a certain age the clocks are less reliable and while essentially love can be found at any time in one’s life, this was pretty much my last shot with the clock for my old ass. I try not to roll my eyes as Martin states all of this in much more diplomatic and politically correct manner, of course.

From another room, we hear a young woman’s squeal of excitement.

“Oh I know that sound!” Martin, grins. “That’s a new one whose clock has just turned on. It must mean her soulmate count down is really short. She’ll be meeting him or her soon, the lucky gal! Hey look, you too!” Martin turns my wrist to show me as if I didn’t already know that.

0y, 0m, d, 0h, 4m, 42s. Holy shit! I didn’t know!

“That’s less than five minutes!” I yell totally caught off guard. What should have been a 30 minutes process had cost me nearly half of the morning.

“Well I know it ain’t me, honey! Get the hell out of here and go meet him! GO!” He literally pulls me out the chair and opens the door, shooing me out of the room.

I hurry to the now empty waiting area. I glance at my watch, 0y, 0m, d, 0h, 3m, 31s and beeline for the main door to the street.

With a couple of minutes to spare, I straighten myself out as much as possible. I toss an errant curl behind my ear before I spot him across the street. Tall, salt and peppered curling hair, to match his equally salted stubble and our eyes connect. I feel a pull. I feel it from the depths of my being as my breath catches. I can tell it is the same for him as he gasps.  He glances at his clock and I glance at mine…

0y, 0m, d, 0h, 0m, 51 s.

He grins at me knowingly, as the street light changes and he steps from the curb.

I am looking at his face, loving his smile, watching the confident strut of his stride all the while chastising myself for being all-aflutter when a cacophony of sound draws my attention. A soul wrenching combination of yelling, tires screeching, glass breaking and metal crunching together. My soul lurches again as I realize my newly found mate is no longer striding towards me, but is now several feet away a tangle of blood and bones. I don’t even think about it – I run to him.

The moment I grasp his hand all sound mutes, but that of our hearts falling into sync. He turns his head to look at me, he tries to smile, to speak, but he can’t. I happen to be holding the hand with his countdown clock and quickly glance at mine comparing times 3…2…1…

0y, 0m, d, 0h, 0m, 0 s – they match.

His hand goes limp in mine and I know.

I use my other hand to close the lids on eyes that no longer see me.

To Know That Kind

.
.

I watch the moon so cold and pale
As to the dawn it starts to vale
Its glow reflecting in the dew
I can’t decide what plight is worst
In sun or moon should a heart burst?
As I recall the warmth of you

Your inner hue, not just your touch
‘Tis such and I miss it much
The deep rumbled “je t’adore”
When without fear your soul sprang free
And laid its care in none but me
And how it blessed me to my core

In these times sore I question so
To know that kind of love once more

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At dVerse we asked to do a sonnet.  I decided to give a go at one of the much lessen known Jeffreys Sonnet.

A Jeffreys Sonnet was created by Scott J. Alcorn. It is isosyllabic (only 8 syllable per line), 2 sestets with a cross rhymed couplet (the cross rhyme is in the 2nd to 4th syllable in each of the two lines of the couplet). Also there is a cross rhyme in the first line of the 2nd sestet (between the 2nd to 4th syllable), tying the 1st sestet to the 2nd. So the rhyme scheme would be: aabccb, (b)ddeffe, (e)g (g)e. The letters in ( ) are the cross rhymes.

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Meeting the Bar ~ Rhyme and Sonnets

Because She Knows

.
.
Because she knows the end is near
No, things weren’t quite as they appear
She’s forced to face her own worse fear
Proof that he holds another dear

Her world, now turned upon its ear
Because she knows the end is near
A love that had no other peer
Has turned to one that can’t adhere

The pain she feels is so severe
She may lose all held in revere
Because she knows the end is near
She starts to get herself in gear

Her actions now become quite clear
Protect what’s left, which she holds dear
She wipes away her final tear
Because she knows the end is near

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Having another turn with the Quartern.

National Poetry Month 2014 – 8

I Offer

.
.
I offer unto you these hands

Their hold is strong, but never tight

I offer unto you these arms

To keep you close both day and night

I offer unto you this heart

The broken shards that you made whole

I offer unto you this grace

That you complete body and soul

And all I ask of you is this;

To answer ‘Yes’ with one sweet kiss

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National Poetry Month – 2014-4

Breaking the rules using a rhyming Sonnetina Uno while Meeting the Bar at dVerse.

dVerse ~ Poets Pub | MeetingTheBar– Emotion in poetry