Hunk on Table Ten:
Where were you four years ago
When I was slutty?
One breath at a time: musings, poetry, reflections on and off the mat
Sunday, April 24, 2011
23/30 April is National Poetry Month - Cadburry
Eating Easter Eggs
of the Cadbury Cream kind
Oh how I love thee.
of the Cadbury Cream kind
Oh how I love thee.
22/30 April is National Poetry Month
Empathic
- the ability or capacity to recognize and sometimes share in the feelings of others.
Told by a therapist long ago that I was very empathic.
I feel sometimes, too much.
Sometimes it is too much for me to look into the eyes of another human being and see what they are feeling.
If they are suffering or lost or in pain.
I, want to tell you it's going to be ok,
not because I am a pollyanna and believe that it's all going to be ok,
but because I want to relieve your suffering.
I know it's deep.
I know that you're at the bottom of that pit of dark ocean and you can't breathe,
your life boat sank,
There is no rescue coming.
I look around lately and see sinking ships,
not because I have a skewed view of doom and gloom and looking for bad things in the world,
because that is another disorder and I have gone through that one thanks,
but because I recognize the pain and suffering in others as not something "temporary" or "passing"
because although I know "this too will pass"
it's the equivalent of a avalanche of boulders falling on too precious, fragile shoulder blades,
clipping the grass with fingernail clippers and tweezers trying to make the yard in the prison
look pretty for someone.....
It is not the sky falling,
nor the dark side of the moon,
nor the world ending
but all of these things and more
happening at once to people,
not just good people but all people,
at the same time breathing the same air and breath and life,
wondering who is punishing them,
who makes up these stupid rules,
who will finally make it stop.
There isn't any one being creating this tidal wave.
There isn't a judge that decided it was your day, your time, your life
it is not your turn, your choice, your mistake, your stupidity
and even if it was all of these things
there are others that didn't decide to get up this morning,
pour themselves a cup of coffee, eat their breakfast, take the car to work and get shot on the way from another person who decided breakfast this morning was bullets.
Still more that decided today was going to be the day to do something about it,
to take that time off, take that vacation, go see the folks
only to get that call that the person they want to see the most just didn't wake up this morning.
This morning is no different from any other mornings
and yet boats sink,
tides come,
people fall away,
and never come back.
When the rip tide comes and washes you away to sea,
remember to swim across.
Swim across.
You make no progress up or down as it drags you out,
you're going out, all you can do is swim across,
paddle, breath, paddle and breath, and wait until you cross the tide.
The tide will take you out,
it's what it does.
You will get back to shore.
It's just going to take time.
- the ability or capacity to recognize and sometimes share in the feelings of others.
Told by a therapist long ago that I was very empathic.
I feel sometimes, too much.
Sometimes it is too much for me to look into the eyes of another human being and see what they are feeling.
If they are suffering or lost or in pain.
I, want to tell you it's going to be ok,
not because I am a pollyanna and believe that it's all going to be ok,
but because I want to relieve your suffering.
I know it's deep.
I know that you're at the bottom of that pit of dark ocean and you can't breathe,
your life boat sank,
There is no rescue coming.
I look around lately and see sinking ships,
not because I have a skewed view of doom and gloom and looking for bad things in the world,
because that is another disorder and I have gone through that one thanks,
but because I recognize the pain and suffering in others as not something "temporary" or "passing"
because although I know "this too will pass"
it's the equivalent of a avalanche of boulders falling on too precious, fragile shoulder blades,
clipping the grass with fingernail clippers and tweezers trying to make the yard in the prison
look pretty for someone.....
It is not the sky falling,
nor the dark side of the moon,
nor the world ending
but all of these things and more
happening at once to people,
not just good people but all people,
at the same time breathing the same air and breath and life,
wondering who is punishing them,
who makes up these stupid rules,
who will finally make it stop.
There isn't any one being creating this tidal wave.
There isn't a judge that decided it was your day, your time, your life
it is not your turn, your choice, your mistake, your stupidity
and even if it was all of these things
there are others that didn't decide to get up this morning,
pour themselves a cup of coffee, eat their breakfast, take the car to work and get shot on the way from another person who decided breakfast this morning was bullets.
Still more that decided today was going to be the day to do something about it,
to take that time off, take that vacation, go see the folks
only to get that call that the person they want to see the most just didn't wake up this morning.
This morning is no different from any other mornings
and yet boats sink,
tides come,
people fall away,
and never come back.
When the rip tide comes and washes you away to sea,
remember to swim across.
Swim across.
You make no progress up or down as it drags you out,
you're going out, all you can do is swim across,
paddle, breath, paddle and breath, and wait until you cross the tide.
The tide will take you out,
it's what it does.
You will get back to shore.
It's just going to take time.
21/30 April is National Poetry Month
It is not enough to have known you.
It is not enough to have the shared moments with you.
It is not enough the brief sprinkling of time and space that held the words spoken between us.
There is never enough time and space for that.
You, funny, witty, own sense of humor and timing,
not reluctant to reach out, be a friend, help someone out,
honestly with your own shortcomings, failures and successes.
Your time was way to brief.
Your touch was so deep.
You will never be forgotten by those who loved you and those who had too brief an encounter.
You probably know this.
You may have even planned it this way.
But know, that if you come around this way again
we'd all like you to stay a while longer.
It is not enough to have the shared moments with you.
It is not enough the brief sprinkling of time and space that held the words spoken between us.
There is never enough time and space for that.
You, funny, witty, own sense of humor and timing,
not reluctant to reach out, be a friend, help someone out,
honestly with your own shortcomings, failures and successes.
Your time was way to brief.
Your touch was so deep.
You will never be forgotten by those who loved you and those who had too brief an encounter.
You probably know this.
You may have even planned it this way.
But know, that if you come around this way again
we'd all like you to stay a while longer.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
20/30 April is National Poetry Month
Nineteen
"It's the last year of your teen-aged years" she said,
I was going to marry her son
Thirties, two children and a drug habit that would take him from everything.
I didn't know that.
I also didn't know that love didn't come on the end of acid filled tongues,
rageful fits of thrown items across rooms,
squeeling tires peeling out of driveways,
in other people's beds one did not belong,
and violent threats against my family.
I did not stay.
I eventually left with nothing,
a car that didn't work,
no money, no self-esteem,
but you can't compete with cocaine and sex-addiction.
I wonder sometimes how many are nineteen,
and leaving the best of their teen-aged years in the hands of those who don't care,
don't feel enough,
don't really want anything but to control them,
only to give that up in the end when something else catches their eyes.
What I would say to them?
You are wise beyond your years,
your eyes, your lips, your smile, your heart will move mountains,
but I know how deep that hole runs in the center of your soul,
and that no one ever told you how much you are really worth,
and I know their voice speaks louder than any god,
and how waiting for them to say magic will take up most of your time,
they'll never say it, I can guarantee that,
coming from one who waited for years until she realized she had to say it to herself.
So if you find yourself unable to wait any more,
spent most of your time on tears, empty promises and scar tissue,
Happy Birthday,
It's going to be unbelievable.
"It's the last year of your teen-aged years" she said,
I was going to marry her son
Thirties, two children and a drug habit that would take him from everything.
I didn't know that.
I also didn't know that love didn't come on the end of acid filled tongues,
rageful fits of thrown items across rooms,
squeeling tires peeling out of driveways,
in other people's beds one did not belong,
and violent threats against my family.
I did not stay.
I eventually left with nothing,
a car that didn't work,
no money, no self-esteem,
but you can't compete with cocaine and sex-addiction.
I wonder sometimes how many are nineteen,
and leaving the best of their teen-aged years in the hands of those who don't care,
don't feel enough,
don't really want anything but to control them,
only to give that up in the end when something else catches their eyes.
What I would say to them?
You are wise beyond your years,
your eyes, your lips, your smile, your heart will move mountains,
but I know how deep that hole runs in the center of your soul,
and that no one ever told you how much you are really worth,
and I know their voice speaks louder than any god,
and how waiting for them to say magic will take up most of your time,
they'll never say it, I can guarantee that,
coming from one who waited for years until she realized she had to say it to herself.
So if you find yourself unable to wait any more,
spent most of your time on tears, empty promises and scar tissue,
Happy Birthday,
It's going to be unbelievable.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
17/18/19 April is National Poetry Month
17. Why?
Why did I decide that writing a poem a day would be a good idea?
Why did I decide to embrace my creativity instead of stifle it?
Why did I decide that 3 yoga classes in one day is a sane thing to do?
Why did I decide to do yoga again the day after?
Why did I decide to get another crazy cat?
Why did I decide that I liked cats?
Why did I decide to eat a whole bag of chocolate covered gluten free pretzels?
Why did I decide to continue to eat afterwards?
These are the questions....
18. Haiku for the day: Cats
Sharpening your claws
testing, preparing, killing
thanks for the flat tire
19. Love
Love is when you don't kill the cat
who used your bike tire as the sharpener for his claws.
Love is the when you don't kill the boyfriend
for losing his wallet/phone/fill in the blank and ask you for the millionth time where that might be.
Love is when you don't kill yourself
because you are lucky to have any of the above items and they mean that you are lovable.
Why did I decide that writing a poem a day would be a good idea?
Why did I decide to embrace my creativity instead of stifle it?
Why did I decide that 3 yoga classes in one day is a sane thing to do?
Why did I decide to do yoga again the day after?
Why did I decide to get another crazy cat?
Why did I decide that I liked cats?
Why did I decide to eat a whole bag of chocolate covered gluten free pretzels?
Why did I decide to continue to eat afterwards?
These are the questions....
18. Haiku for the day: Cats
Sharpening your claws
testing, preparing, killing
thanks for the flat tire
19. Love
Love is when you don't kill the cat
who used your bike tire as the sharpener for his claws.
Love is the when you don't kill the boyfriend
for losing his wallet/phone/fill in the blank and ask you for the millionth time where that might be.
Love is when you don't kill yourself
because you are lucky to have any of the above items and they mean that you are lovable.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
15 and 16/30 National Poetry Month "Early"
Early (too early for Haiku)
Neighbors pounding tile
Six-thirty in the am
Sunday morning foul!
Blue
Is one of my favorite colors
Sky blue, ocean blue, midnight blue, turquoise and all shades in between.
It is also a favorite color to paint emotion,
heart as blue as midnight, blueness of my tears, bluish hint of his smile,
in the blue of my garden hides meaning, taste, expression, curiosity
and the blue of the rain washes the dust off my soul
how many shades can one word color....
Neighbors pounding tile
Six-thirty in the am
Sunday morning foul!
Blue
Is one of my favorite colors
Sky blue, ocean blue, midnight blue, turquoise and all shades in between.
It is also a favorite color to paint emotion,
heart as blue as midnight, blueness of my tears, bluish hint of his smile,
in the blue of my garden hides meaning, taste, expression, curiosity
and the blue of the rain washes the dust off my soul
how many shades can one word color....
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