Blog Archives

I am paper

imageI am paper.

thin,

pale,

plain,

erased,

opened,

read,

rewritten.

image

I ache for

words,

art,

stories,

correspondence,

original thoughts,

secrets

image

I am permanently

marked,

inked,

shaded,

impressed upon

image

I am parched

smooth,

enveloped,

torn,

ruled,

copied

I am held to the light …

transparent

image

Advertisements

Wonder

image

Just breathe ….

Let go

I push away

fear dissolves

Release …

me

standing there,

smiling

legs  firmly planted

mind searching for purchase.

lost

in thought

vacant smile

my eyes

I see

can’t understand

whirls – words – worlds

apart

and I breathe

let go

and walk away

image

Teddy and the tomb poem

imageFinding myself on a hamster wheel.  I reached out tonight to a friend so I wouldn’t be morose in bed, hugging on to my teddy – my 40 year old touchstone.

I’m tired of listening to my own thoughts, so I can only imagine how you must feel reading them.

I know what it is important in life.  Love – family – serenity – service – enduring friendships.

I’m burned out on the wheel though.

If I had a magic wand, it would put me somewhere with a future.  A chance to spread my wings and not have them operated by ‘must’.  Must fly here – must fly there – must not touch the light.

I wrote this poem years ago, and it’s become a metaphor for what could have been.

“In memory of …” the tomb began,

I could not read much more.

My loss engraved in cold grey stone, was too much to endure.

I turned away, too pained to stay,

And walked to clear my mind.

All the while regretting what I had to leave behind.

 

Seen

I wish I were naked

shameless

unspoiled

Head held high, a peaceful smile

I wish I were unafraid of shiny things

glittering

twinkling

unafraid of attention, unafraid of decoration

I wish I were playful with colours

on my lips

on my body

without disgust, without feeling garish

I wish I could be seen without needing to be bland

bright

noticable

without fear, without disgrace

I wish I were comfortable being seen.

mute

Flooded with fantastic thoughts,

My memory can’t retain them,

my pen cannot complete them.

Fleeting revelations mend my soul,

but my mouth fails to convey them.

frustration

I’m meek,  untrained to speak them.

I have no voice.

I feel more than my sentences,

I ache to pass them on!

But just before I write them down, they’re gone.

mute

Realizations spill into my mind

my heart

my soul

then locked inside.

I speak ridiculously,

flustered

Out loud I hear someone … and it’s me,

poorly portraying me.