sigh

continuing in the same voice, she talked until she knew they weren't really listening any longer
the bell would be ringing in a few and then she would scurry off, like nothing was wrong
open the door to her tiny apartment, cook, eat, sleep and do it all again

the sun was still shining, kinda like it was taunting her, and she closed the blinds tightly
nothing was going to pull her out of this mood---she deserved to be punished and no one was going to take that away from her

the phone was ringing and she watched it like it could hurt her as it did---when the offending sound ended, she sighed a calming sigh-----she would be alone, no matter how many times the phone flooded her senses with dread

could she manage to go to the same place the next empty morning, would it ever change or would she be destined to repeat this hollow cycle of  doing

and as she closed her eyes, she knew what she must do, but even so, she laid out her yellow out-fit

say yes

beauty in pain they say and it's true
sorrow can caress souls, like no other emotion
it links us to that part of us, that yearns for understanding

an understanding of something more of something so intense, it will take us away from our beings
and then there it is, that insight into the other realm, perhaps, or so it feels

we chase and we bargain, we beg and we deny, but life will undoubtedly issue those cold heart stopping moments along our lonely journey here

we can hide, but it will come singing, it has found us, and we must comply

the effects can change us and we must allow them to, for to oppose this ultimate truth of life, is to wander past the meaning of existense

so touch it and let it sink into your presence---after all it is there- no matter what we pretend our response is

when i used to rhyme--and yes, i meant to use home's like that--just listen for the sound

waiting at the corner, where you used to walk me home
waiting for a moment, then going on alone

waiting at the table at the place that we called ours
crowded with friends faces, but now it just seems bare

don't know why i come here, never does no good, keep thinking you'll remember, ya know you really should

and staying home's no better, no i'll only read your letters, letters, filled with yesterday, when ya had so much to say
but it's hard to put behind you, things you really want to keep, things you have no right to hope for, still they're buried much too deep

don't know why i come here, never does no good, keep thinking you'll remember, ya know you really should






written at 16

oh spring

for a while now, i knew i was going to be writing about Easter and how i recall the Easters from my childhood

like most subjects, that get in my head and won't let me alone until i do something about it---this one keeps beckoning me back

to me, as Christmas would pass, my thoughts would only be about, how long i had to endure until any true happiness appeared--until the next Christmas--

that is until it got to be around springtime---

when my imagination was in full swing again and hope was on the horizon---just about Easter time

now as i share this brief grasp to those days, i find that part of me, that holds me back as a writer--
that part that wants to apologize for not making this blog about the true meaning of Easter--

and as i sneaked that half-hearted sorry in----i have to tell you, i feel the emotions and eagerness, Easter has always brought to my soul, is because of the sacrifice that lead to my being able to see hope and a future-

when i look back in my mind's picture, this is what i see

myself on our swing-set----shorts and a summery top---sucking on a sucker and wearing my church patent leather shoes---the ones that would soon be my last years shoes--

for every Easter meant new shoes---beautiful shoes, maybe even yellow ones----it was all so exciting---and although we didn't get toys, like kids do now, in our Easter baskets----we were thrilled by them-

sometimes we would get baby chicks---or ducks, which we would play with on Easter morning, only to have to leave them with my grandmother, later that day---out in the country-----where we usually got a call maybe a week later, that they had been eaten by the weasels

those Easter dresses---how we marveled at how good we all looked-----

i remember one year---dresses with the wide belts, were all the rage----my sister, whose, waist was a tiny 24 inches, looked much better than me----so i stuffed mine in other places----

i don't think we had too many Easter egg hunts, like i do today for my family----but, it is something about the past Easters that i have never been able to recapture

maybe it was because i was a kid----or that i looked so good in my new clothes then------

but i tell you, i think the Easters were brighter then and hotter and full of a majesty, that is missing now----

and when i find i am wanting to relive those days, i only have to close my eyes and there i am, straightening my hat, carefully putting on my white cotton gloves and pulling that belt as tight as i can--

how long

calmly echoing now, the wind breathed a breath, like it could be it's last----she waited

the sky, was peppered with color---colors she didn't recognize----but they were stunning

should she step out into this lush paradise------was it a trap

her feet sunk into the soft, almost spongy grass like covering

she smelled something enticing yet frightening---what was the memory it brought screaming back to her senses

was this her sanctuary or maybe her punishment

after all, how long could one be content in only glorious surroundings----she was ready to discover

the hanging vines held the most perfect fruit she had ever laid eyes on and she knew she could not resist any longer

velvety juices ran down her hungry throat, as she swallowed for the final time

part of me

i feel like writing today--so i will---i don't have any real poetry today or great ideas, just a little catch up with all of you----

if you are a reader, you certainly have been aware of my lingering in the past lately and bemoaning my lost youth---well there is plenty more of that ---but a slightly different point of view this morning

i know, to always be looking back is not the healthiest thing one can do---but i think, mine may have some other purpose---one i must admit, i am a little confused about--

as a christian, i do believe i have an enemy in this world---but sometimes, for me, it's hard to distinguish if it is my enemy trying to get me side-tracked or God trying to save me from myself or teach me a valuable lesson--

looking back over hard times, does give us new insights and perpectives---if we are honest, at least with ourselves, about those times--

often looking back, is more like experiencing a dream of sorts

part of me thinks, i may be on to a project, that will deal with some of the high-lights in the exercise in reliving my past----

yes it can be comfortable there in the shadows of our memories, but we must not peek there too long, or we will get stuck

i will let you in on a little secret----i have always wanted to make a documentary----or have a theatre group playhouse------and it's not that i think, somehow this is going to come to past or even if i want to---maybe i will just be an encourager to someone else----or just maybe, i will venture out there again and spread my jiggly wings-

that poetry collection is still floating around in my concentrated brain also-----and that might just be more my speed, to be honest----