...quiet, about a lot of things...
Monday, November 26, 2007
All for One
V-Grrrl has a very entertaining post (in the good and funny; as well creepy and stalkerish way) up over at her blog.. The Good Samaritan Gone Bad.
I too, have invited strangers into my home. I guess in reality, it was my mothers home, but at the time, I didn't know the difference. The first time,I was a freshman in college. I met a friend at school who had moved from Arkansas to attend Cal State Los Angeles. Why?? Really it's a very logical question. The campus was almost entirely concrete..and had no dorms. 100% commuter.
I was there because my mother had run out of money..and forgotten I was supposed to be leaving for college..Yep LEAVING.As in Departing.... flying far far away. But with the cupboards bare, I was left local..driving to a college 30 minutes, yet a world away from where I came from.
I was shocked to find out that my fellow students, considered me a little snotty. This only got worse when every one in the theatre department, discovered I had graduated from an all girl, private high school in Pasadena. I then became known as the rich girl.
WHAT A JOKE! Had I been "said" wealthy debutante..there is no WAY IN HELL..I would have been even 500 miles of my house. Alas, I was in my present situation, because I was a middle class girl...
And there in, lies the rub. I was so busy looking at the year at THIS college, as some sort of purgatory, a penance if you will;that I didn't notice others were happy to be there. Happy, just for the chance to go to college, perhaps the first in their families to do so. In hindsight, I was a whole LOT of snotty. I ended up learning much that year.
Things like, I was much more middle class, than upper. That everything my mother gave me was not just crumbs, but tons more than some of my "New Friends" had. that, and, oh yeah...you don't have to be rich to have talent. I also figured out, that the nose up position I had perfected, did not suit me. In fact, I think it led to a lot of tripping, and other mishaps.
So I made it my business to climb down off my high horse, and get a real life, not a faux privileged one. I hung out in coffee shops instead of espresso bars. (Remember this was early 80's...so there was not a Starbucks on every corner..yet. Real espresso bars were few and far between..and pretty swank? OK, at least I thought they were!)
Which brings me to my friend..Tammy from Arkansas. She and her mother had moved so that Tammy could become a STAR. Probably not much chance of that..but hey..we were all young and optimistic back then. They rented an apartment..and promptly got evicted about two months into the fall semester. Little thing called "PAYING THE RENT"
My mother had been gone, I think in Hawaii...and I offered to let them stay with us..for a few days..which turned into a few months. My mother was livid. She went off to work, Tammy and I went off to school, and Tammy's mother stayed in our house all day, and watched the Price Is Right and "her stories".
I don't exactly remember how it ended..but I don't think it ended well. I just could not bear the thought of them living in their car....
I hadn't come to realize that sometimes the most helpful thing you can do for people..is help them help THEMSELVES.
So lets hear your Good Samaritan stories??..I have more...I've brought home all sorts of strays. But lets hear from you first.
I too, have invited strangers into my home. I guess in reality, it was my mothers home, but at the time, I didn't know the difference. The first time,I was a freshman in college. I met a friend at school who had moved from Arkansas to attend Cal State Los Angeles. Why?? Really it's a very logical question. The campus was almost entirely concrete..and had no dorms. 100% commuter.
I was there because my mother had run out of money..and forgotten I was supposed to be leaving for college..Yep LEAVING.As in Departing.... flying far far away. But with the cupboards bare, I was left local..driving to a college 30 minutes, yet a world away from where I came from.
I was shocked to find out that my fellow students, considered me a little snotty. This only got worse when every one in the theatre department, discovered I had graduated from an all girl, private high school in Pasadena. I then became known as the rich girl.
WHAT A JOKE! Had I been "said" wealthy debutante..there is no WAY IN HELL..I would have been even 500 miles of my house. Alas, I was in my present situation, because I was a middle class girl...
And there in, lies the rub. I was so busy looking at the year at THIS college, as some sort of purgatory, a penance if you will;that I didn't notice others were happy to be there. Happy, just for the chance to go to college, perhaps the first in their families to do so. In hindsight, I was a whole LOT of snotty. I ended up learning much that year.
Things like, I was much more middle class, than upper. That everything my mother gave me was not just crumbs, but tons more than some of my "New Friends" had. that, and, oh yeah...you don't have to be rich to have talent. I also figured out, that the nose up position I had perfected, did not suit me. In fact, I think it led to a lot of tripping, and other mishaps.
So I made it my business to climb down off my high horse, and get a real life, not a faux privileged one. I hung out in coffee shops instead of espresso bars. (Remember this was early 80's...so there was not a Starbucks on every corner..yet. Real espresso bars were few and far between..and pretty swank? OK, at least I thought they were!)
Which brings me to my friend..Tammy from Arkansas. She and her mother had moved so that Tammy could become a STAR. Probably not much chance of that..but hey..we were all young and optimistic back then. They rented an apartment..and promptly got evicted about two months into the fall semester. Little thing called "PAYING THE RENT"
My mother had been gone, I think in Hawaii...and I offered to let them stay with us..for a few days..which turned into a few months. My mother was livid. She went off to work, Tammy and I went off to school, and Tammy's mother stayed in our house all day, and watched the Price Is Right and "her stories".
I don't exactly remember how it ended..but I don't think it ended well. I just could not bear the thought of them living in their car....
I hadn't come to realize that sometimes the most helpful thing you can do for people..is help them help THEMSELVES.
So lets hear your Good Samaritan stories??..I have more...I've brought home all sorts of strays. But lets hear from you first.
Friday, November 23, 2007
An Explaination
A good blog friend told me recently, that my blog template was boring.So here's a change. Though I fear equally ho humish. If any of you know how to get those cool custom ones you sport..I'm all ears.
My profile picture looks like I have been medicated. I like that.
Our Thanksgiving went well..just the four of us...out last one before Rach is off to college. Look at this picture.. It's official..they are grown up..not all grown..but close.
Let me know what you think.
My profile picture looks like I have been medicated. I like that.
Our Thanksgiving went well..just the four of us...out last one before Rach is off to college. Look at this picture.. It's official..they are grown up..not all grown..but close.
Let me know what you think.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Happy Thanksgiving Everyone..
So, since I follow Neil's blog, like an obsessed fan..I will accept his challenge to thank my first commenter...but as I did this last year also... I will thank my second...which was Tara From Paris Parfait...Wow! really what a great 2nd commenter!
This was the post..
from this angle
she could not see me
watching
checking her reflection
chin up
fierce straight on
only a moment
then eyes soften
downward
mask crumbles
too much
her mothers
daughter, i fear
wlf 7:00 this AM
and this was her comment..
"Lovely! Well done"
Little did I know then, what a lovely person Tara was..and how well done her blog is...but boy! Was I in great company or What!
So today, as everyday, I am Thankful for all my wonderful and mysterious friends, out there in the dark! You have all been a blessing in my life...and I am graced by the honor of knowing you.
Have a great day..holiday or not. Know that you are always included in my prayers, my perfect strangers! Cheers, here's to you all!
wendy
This was the post..
from this angle
she could not see me
watching
checking her reflection
chin up
fierce straight on
only a moment
then eyes soften
downward
mask crumbles
too much
her mothers
daughter, i fear
wlf 7:00 this AM
and this was her comment..
"Lovely! Well done"
Little did I know then, what a lovely person Tara was..and how well done her blog is...but boy! Was I in great company or What!
So today, as everyday, I am Thankful for all my wonderful and mysterious friends, out there in the dark! You have all been a blessing in my life...and I am graced by the honor of knowing you.
Have a great day..holiday or not. Know that you are always included in my prayers, my perfect strangers! Cheers, here's to you all!
wendy
Monday, November 19, 2007
Inaugeration..at read write poem
The first of the new prompts..American Sentences..17 syllables.
In thinking, I wondered what makes a sentence "American" as opposed to a human sentence. I just read the headlines on my browser..and and looked into my own life.
In Georgia three boys, ages eight and nine, are charged with raping a girl.
I was young, I thought everyone dreamed of living in America.
Has Patriotism become less about us and more about them?
I had not realized her husband was ill when I dropped the brownies off.
He has been my neighbor for more than two years, and sick for all that time.
Good luck to this new endeavour.
Here's read write poem....
In thinking, I wondered what makes a sentence "American" as opposed to a human sentence. I just read the headlines on my browser..and and looked into my own life.
In Georgia three boys, ages eight and nine, are charged with raping a girl.
I was young, I thought everyone dreamed of living in America.
Has Patriotism become less about us and more about them?
I had not realized her husband was ill when I dropped the brownies off.
He has been my neighbor for more than two years, and sick for all that time.
Good luck to this new endeavour.
Here's read write poem....
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Carry a Lie: for Sunday Scribblings
A friend of mine, of similar age, and experience, is going through the "shoulda, woulda, coulda's" at the moment. It is so easy for me, to stand outside and observe my friend fixating on things that are not even remotely important. When I think of this person, these worrisome burdens wouldn't even make the top 20 list of my description of them. Probably not even the top 100.
I find myself emailing and very assuredly reminding this friend.."This is not WHO you are. Don't get caught in illusions. Remember WHO you are."
It's easy from the outside looking in. A point of perspective, I suppose. Sometimes we are to close to see the whole picture. We just fixate on that one eschew, crooked detail. We let that detail become a focal point, instead of incidental. This is when we need friends to tell us to back up a few inches, and refocus. "You are missing the mark. Back up and look."
How many times have you wished you could help someone you love SEE themselves? It's as if they are standing next to two mirrors. One, all convex and contorted...like a fun house mirror, in bad lighting. The other, crystal clear, with just the right ratio of reality to mood lighting..with a bit of beautiful amber human tone, the light of which, makes flesh almost eatable. The roses; rosier..the blues; deeper, the creams; softer. Reflection from this mirror is the reflection of love.
So your beloved, be it friend, lover, daughter, son or spouse, stands in front of these two choices, right smack in the middle of them. They turn to you and ask you which is true. Being honest, you tell them, that they are both illusions, as all skin deep reflections are. Still, the illusion of love is more true. The most true. The best version. But they can not see it.
Perhaps someone very early on, polluted their eyes, ruined their vision. They feel only drawn to the warped and clownish rendition of themselves. The more you point their shoulders towards the love, the more they turn to the hate. The more you see the good, the more they find the bad. In love, the uniqueness of their character, makes them priceless. In loathing, it makes them a freak, distorting all differences until they are hideous and unbearable.
But few things are truly unbearable. So for all you effort, when the lights go out, their money all gone, their paid time through, the image fades. All is black.
They turn and face life again. They carry the reflection with them. They carry the lie. They bear it. In time, they will no longer even feel it.
So you wait for the next chance. You wait for them to gather the strength to look again. You hope against hope, that you will be there with the right words to help them see.
(You hope that you will not be too busy gazing at your own illusion to notice that they need you.)
And after it is all said and done, and this dream is finally over,you hope that in the end, as in the beginning, you will join with them. With laughter, tell them, that in this shell game of life, you never once lost them. Through all the crazy costume changes,in all the hide and seek, you always could find them. You always could see them. You always will see them.
"Oh what a game! Oh what a silly, silly game. Thank Goodness it is over. We Are Through."
Amen.
More Beasts of Burden at Sunday Scribblings
I find myself emailing and very assuredly reminding this friend.."This is not WHO you are. Don't get caught in illusions. Remember WHO you are."
It's easy from the outside looking in. A point of perspective, I suppose. Sometimes we are to close to see the whole picture. We just fixate on that one eschew, crooked detail. We let that detail become a focal point, instead of incidental. This is when we need friends to tell us to back up a few inches, and refocus. "You are missing the mark. Back up and look."
How many times have you wished you could help someone you love SEE themselves? It's as if they are standing next to two mirrors. One, all convex and contorted...like a fun house mirror, in bad lighting. The other, crystal clear, with just the right ratio of reality to mood lighting..with a bit of beautiful amber human tone, the light of which, makes flesh almost eatable. The roses; rosier..the blues; deeper, the creams; softer. Reflection from this mirror is the reflection of love.
So your beloved, be it friend, lover, daughter, son or spouse, stands in front of these two choices, right smack in the middle of them. They turn to you and ask you which is true. Being honest, you tell them, that they are both illusions, as all skin deep reflections are. Still, the illusion of love is more true. The most true. The best version. But they can not see it.
Perhaps someone very early on, polluted their eyes, ruined their vision. They feel only drawn to the warped and clownish rendition of themselves. The more you point their shoulders towards the love, the more they turn to the hate. The more you see the good, the more they find the bad. In love, the uniqueness of their character, makes them priceless. In loathing, it makes them a freak, distorting all differences until they are hideous and unbearable.
But few things are truly unbearable. So for all you effort, when the lights go out, their money all gone, their paid time through, the image fades. All is black.
They turn and face life again. They carry the reflection with them. They carry the lie. They bear it. In time, they will no longer even feel it.
So you wait for the next chance. You wait for them to gather the strength to look again. You hope against hope, that you will be there with the right words to help them see.
(You hope that you will not be too busy gazing at your own illusion to notice that they need you.)
And after it is all said and done, and this dream is finally over,you hope that in the end, as in the beginning, you will join with them. With laughter, tell them, that in this shell game of life, you never once lost them. Through all the crazy costume changes,in all the hide and seek, you always could find them. You always could see them. You always will see them.
"Oh what a game! Oh what a silly, silly game. Thank Goodness it is over. We Are Through."
Amen.
More Beasts of Burden at Sunday Scribblings
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Blindfolded for Totally Optional Prompts
How do I use "place" in my poetry? Usually, I dwell in my lack of place. The impermanence of place. Our dependency on place. I will always, I fear, struggle to find my place.
The Game
When he takes vision
out of the equation,
at first you think
it will be manageable.
Your mind remembers outlines
traces where the edges are.
The silk is almost refreshing,
with darkness cool and absolute.
There is no fear til you start
to spin,pushed by forces not
your own. From which direction
do they come? Is it the left
or right? About the third time
round, you are lost. In your hands,
from somewhere, comes a sharp piece
of steel. Perhaps the dial of
a compass? Perhaps not. So with a
nudge, you are sent off in a direction
-to seek a prize you can not see.
You hold your weapon against the air,
spreading each finger to help you
move only by touch. But there is
nothing to feel,just empty space
between your steps, unknown.
wlf 8:24
Guess what?..TOP is on WEDNESDAY..not Thursday....Ooops sorry..got a little lost..for a second there!
The Game
When he takes vision
out of the equation,
at first you think
it will be manageable.
Your mind remembers outlines
traces where the edges are.
The silk is almost refreshing,
with darkness cool and absolute.
There is no fear til you start
to spin,pushed by forces not
your own. From which direction
do they come? Is it the left
or right? About the third time
round, you are lost. In your hands,
from somewhere, comes a sharp piece
of steel. Perhaps the dial of
a compass? Perhaps not. So with a
nudge, you are sent off in a direction
-to seek a prize you can not see.
You hold your weapon against the air,
spreading each finger to help you
move only by touch. But there is
nothing to feel,just empty space
between your steps, unknown.
wlf 8:24
Guess what?..TOP is on WEDNESDAY..not Thursday....Ooops sorry..got a little lost..for a second there!
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Baby, Look How Far I've Come..
...really not so far. I just had an "AH HA" moment watching a ABC sitcom. What in the WORLD does that say about me?
I don't even want to know...
Over a week ago, Pepek tagged me with this...
I am to try to think of three things that I feel good writing should be.
(I have to giggle at this as I am very unfocused on this subject lately...
but any how... here goes..)
1. Honesty. Really not pulling any punches. Writing is no place for the ego..well, no GOOD place for the ego.
2. Humble.Nothing I will ever write will cure cancer. All I can hope for is a bond, a virtual hug...or a wink.
3.Hokey...the person I am is somewhat of a nerd. So I would be the one to blurt out..."I love ya man..."and "My love will go on and and.." and "Love is all you need".
Nuf said.
I'm supposed to pass this on to 5 people... So in no random order of popularity..and with apologies..if this isn't your thing....
1.gk girl....Because she seems up for most things...
2.deb..because she thinks of cool projects..and has GREAT penmanship...
3.michelle...Because she rocks that little blog of hers and wears converse tennies.
4.Veronica...because she is a soul and sister, both.
and last but not least...
5. Neil....Because he hardly talks to me any more, now that I've met him "mano e mano". What does THAT say about a girl? Oh yeah, and he has a penis...that speaks sometimes..so I think he's man enough to handle it...
Thanks to Pepek for the nod. I'll see your nod, and raise you an air kiss.
I don't even want to know...
Over a week ago, Pepek tagged me with this...
I am to try to think of three things that I feel good writing should be.
(I have to giggle at this as I am very unfocused on this subject lately...
but any how... here goes..)
1. Honesty. Really not pulling any punches. Writing is no place for the ego..well, no GOOD place for the ego.
2. Humble.Nothing I will ever write will cure cancer. All I can hope for is a bond, a virtual hug...or a wink.
3.Hokey...the person I am is somewhat of a nerd. So I would be the one to blurt out..."I love ya man..."and "My love will go on and and.." and "Love is all you need".
Nuf said.
I'm supposed to pass this on to 5 people... So in no random order of popularity..and with apologies..if this isn't your thing....
1.gk girl....Because she seems up for most things...
2.deb..because she thinks of cool projects..and has GREAT penmanship...
3.michelle...Because she rocks that little blog of hers and wears converse tennies.
4.Veronica...because she is a soul and sister, both.
and last but not least...
5. Neil....Because he hardly talks to me any more, now that I've met him "mano e mano". What does THAT say about a girl? Oh yeah, and he has a penis...that speaks sometimes..so I think he's man enough to handle it...
Thanks to Pepek for the nod. I'll see your nod, and raise you an air kiss.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
So, As Usual..
I blew off yet another goal..Skipped a couple of days of poetry. I suck at set goals.
Admitting this, has effectively shut my creative valves. Failure, even on random goals, is hard. Highlights downfalls. Mine being first and foremost, highly destractable..lazy..and quasi depressed. The joy, oh the joy, of self discovery.
But it's time to bounce. Get back up. Start again.
The prompt today isFriendship at Writers Island.
I spent the whole weekend with some people that could be my friends. The Olympic/Paralympic training facility was really more impressive than I could have imagined.I do feel that when I am with these other athletes, I am among my peers.
What a motley crew we are!! We all sport different disabilities. We span the gamut between 15 to 60ish in age..Some are in chairs, some are not.With out a sign of introduction, it may be hard to tell how we all fit together. I noticed this in the "general public" faces as we went to get a drink after workouts..or traveled in a pack in the airport. The public at large is clearly not prepared for a posse of disabled people hanging together. One by one, with our able bodied friends, and families, we blend more. As a herd, we are somewhat of an attraction.
I was amazed with how many questions we DID NOT get. No one asked anything..though some in our group have the annoying habit of wearing stuff that says USA all over it.
There were no questions about our "Team", outside the facility. I found this odd. Generally, if a group of people wearing similar clothing, say hats or jerseys came into a restaurant...the hostess or waitress probably would ask a question or two about the team. Nothing.
I don't think they knew what to ask. So instead, there was a lot of staring. I have always hated to be looked at. It is what makes me very shy. This weekend, one was forced to get used to it. I found myself getting more and more protective of those in my party. Watching their backs. Challenging gazes. Returning stares.
However,the trainers at the host facility were phenomenal. I have never seen so many creative solutions to problems, willingness to listen, belief in excellence.
They trained our butts off.. No slack..3 times a day..Cardio,endurance..circuit...I kayaked with other CP friend. I hadn't laughed that hard in a while. I strapped my self into a hockey sled, used by paraplegics..and wiped out pretty impressively..I tried out some sports wheelchairs..and discovered how strong these guys and gals need to be for just their daily live, let alone the rigors of athletics. I hand biked, and rode a tandem bike with a friend with only one hand. I had not been on a tandem bike in a long time. We had a BLAST!
We all have scads of able bodied people who we love, and who love us. But for a brief time we could all just relax with each other. We were com-padres. Fellows.
It was not all warm and fuzzy, because that's not any ones real life. We are meant to compete against each other. Some like to feel that they have it better or worse that others. Perhaps some feel they are more entitled. I choose not to focus on that.
I choose to remember having a kamikaze with two of my team mates and saluting US. The US of our team. The US of our sport. The US of our country, the US of our world.
STRONGER. FASTER. BETTER.
Admitting this, has effectively shut my creative valves. Failure, even on random goals, is hard. Highlights downfalls. Mine being first and foremost, highly destractable..lazy..and quasi depressed. The joy, oh the joy, of self discovery.
But it's time to bounce. Get back up. Start again.
The prompt today isFriendship at Writers Island.
I spent the whole weekend with some people that could be my friends. The Olympic/Paralympic training facility was really more impressive than I could have imagined.I do feel that when I am with these other athletes, I am among my peers.
What a motley crew we are!! We all sport different disabilities. We span the gamut between 15 to 60ish in age..Some are in chairs, some are not.With out a sign of introduction, it may be hard to tell how we all fit together. I noticed this in the "general public" faces as we went to get a drink after workouts..or traveled in a pack in the airport. The public at large is clearly not prepared for a posse of disabled people hanging together. One by one, with our able bodied friends, and families, we blend more. As a herd, we are somewhat of an attraction.
I was amazed with how many questions we DID NOT get. No one asked anything..though some in our group have the annoying habit of wearing stuff that says USA all over it.
There were no questions about our "Team", outside the facility. I found this odd. Generally, if a group of people wearing similar clothing, say hats or jerseys came into a restaurant...the hostess or waitress probably would ask a question or two about the team. Nothing.
I don't think they knew what to ask. So instead, there was a lot of staring. I have always hated to be looked at. It is what makes me very shy. This weekend, one was forced to get used to it. I found myself getting more and more protective of those in my party. Watching their backs. Challenging gazes. Returning stares.
However,the trainers at the host facility were phenomenal. I have never seen so many creative solutions to problems, willingness to listen, belief in excellence.
They trained our butts off.. No slack..3 times a day..Cardio,endurance..circuit...I kayaked with other CP friend. I hadn't laughed that hard in a while. I strapped my self into a hockey sled, used by paraplegics..and wiped out pretty impressively..I tried out some sports wheelchairs..and discovered how strong these guys and gals need to be for just their daily live, let alone the rigors of athletics. I hand biked, and rode a tandem bike with a friend with only one hand. I had not been on a tandem bike in a long time. We had a BLAST!
We all have scads of able bodied people who we love, and who love us. But for a brief time we could all just relax with each other. We were com-padres. Fellows.
It was not all warm and fuzzy, because that's not any ones real life. We are meant to compete against each other. Some like to feel that they have it better or worse that others. Perhaps some feel they are more entitled. I choose not to focus on that.
I choose to remember having a kamikaze with two of my team mates and saluting US. The US of our team. The US of our sport. The US of our country, the US of our world.
STRONGER. FASTER. BETTER.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Missed a Day
So Does One Missed Day
Defeat The whole Goal
Does One Mis step
Sink the whole Ship?
Defeat The whole Goal
Does One Mis step
Sink the whole Ship?
Friday, November 09, 2007
No Time
Down in Birmingham
So tired I can't think
and yet that doesn't
seem to phase any
of them.Lifting,
more and more weight,
is what counts.
5 lbs by 5 lbs.
That and good form.
wlf 10:54
So tired I can't think
and yet that doesn't
seem to phase any
of them.Lifting,
more and more weight,
is what counts.
5 lbs by 5 lbs.
That and good form.
wlf 10:54
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Evoke Something for God's Sake!!
Way back when, I wanted to be an actress. Passing phase lasting two years of college.
I realized what I really loved, were the words. To this day a well written screenplay, or a bit of dialog, gives me the shivers.
Back in acting class, we used sense memory a fair bit. You know, painful memory..OK, now what did it smell like taste like sound like. Rarely ever were we to remember what it looked like...as looks can be deceiving.
I wrote this a bit ago..but it seems to fit today's prompt.
I'm a tad distracted, as I am getting ready to go on a weekend "boot camp" style training session at the Lake shore Olympic Training Facility. The image of a lab rat pops to mind. They have this contraption called the Bod Pod Sounds fun huh?...I go into testing right after a 16 year old girl friend...FAN bloody TASTIC!!
Ah well, to late to exorcise my ass now.. And by this I mean expel demons..Not the other dirty connotation...
Anyway, Enjoy the poem..I hope I don't falter in my poem a day quest. Does "I'm a big fat blob; next to a stick thin teen"....qualify as poetry?? May have to suffice.
Swirl our senses...make it different. In my case...led by my nose.....
Rinse, Repeat
Who knew
that you were
lurking in
an over the top
bright pink bottle
of price reduced shampoo
from aisle four?
Not me.
That's for sure!
I was just
innocently dirty,
naked wet.
My face in steam
eyes closed
reaching out
blindly, by touch.
It took only
a squeezed second
for memory to reach me.
It was too late.
Already I had tangled you
with my fingers into my hair.
Through my scalp.
Down my spine.
You stopped deep
within, the deep
within I had forgotten.
I could not tell
if the pain
was my heart
or just my eyes.
I rinsed
my face
my hair
my mind.
I prayed to
send you down
the drain.
I failed.
Sure, I came out,
clean in the end.
But now,I can not
help but smell you
-each time
I turn my head.
You are nowhere
that I can see,
yet everywhere
I must breathe.
wlf 10:15 pm
(originally posted September 27, 2006 for Poetry Thursday)
oops..Don't forget to check out Totally Optional Prompts...
I realized what I really loved, were the words. To this day a well written screenplay, or a bit of dialog, gives me the shivers.
Back in acting class, we used sense memory a fair bit. You know, painful memory..OK, now what did it smell like taste like sound like. Rarely ever were we to remember what it looked like...as looks can be deceiving.
I wrote this a bit ago..but it seems to fit today's prompt.
I'm a tad distracted, as I am getting ready to go on a weekend "boot camp" style training session at the Lake shore Olympic Training Facility. The image of a lab rat pops to mind. They have this contraption called the Bod Pod Sounds fun huh?...I go into testing right after a 16 year old girl friend...FAN bloody TASTIC!!
Ah well, to late to exorcise my ass now.. And by this I mean expel demons..Not the other dirty connotation...
Anyway, Enjoy the poem..I hope I don't falter in my poem a day quest. Does "I'm a big fat blob; next to a stick thin teen"....qualify as poetry?? May have to suffice.
Swirl our senses...make it different. In my case...led by my nose.....
Rinse, Repeat
Who knew
that you were
lurking in
an over the top
bright pink bottle
of price reduced shampoo
from aisle four?
Not me.
That's for sure!
I was just
innocently dirty,
naked wet.
My face in steam
eyes closed
reaching out
blindly, by touch.
It took only
a squeezed second
for memory to reach me.
It was too late.
Already I had tangled you
with my fingers into my hair.
Through my scalp.
Down my spine.
You stopped deep
within, the deep
within I had forgotten.
I could not tell
if the pain
was my heart
or just my eyes.
I rinsed
my face
my hair
my mind.
I prayed to
send you down
the drain.
I failed.
Sure, I came out,
clean in the end.
But now,I can not
help but smell you
-each time
I turn my head.
You are nowhere
that I can see,
yet everywhere
I must breathe.
wlf 10:15 pm
(originally posted September 27, 2006 for Poetry Thursday)
oops..Don't forget to check out Totally Optional Prompts...
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Just The Blind Leading The Blind
I must have missed the part of the divine conversation, where I get all the answers. Knowing me, I was busy talking about some cute boy..or worrying about my hair. Skip forward 25 years or so...and I'm worrying about my wrinkles..and the lack of skirt Maggie trotted off to school today wearing.
Still no answers carved into stone for me.
Companion Animal
Finding myself alone,I watch
the dog as she tans herself.
Almost winter,she follows the sun.
But I am wrong. She is clearly
searching, and so moves again to
sigh long into the pillows of my
husbands smell;his breath, his hair.
She curls around his last worn t-shirt.
She,at least, is grateful that I take no
issue, letting sleeping dogs lie,
on discarded dirty clothes.Somehow,
they always seem to make their way
to the hamper, but I feel no pressing
need to assist them. Let them rest where
he was.She settles, finally, reassured
That he is hers in scent. she exsist a the
space of his lingering memory, of his promised
return. I know he is mine,though, I know it
more vaguely.
wlf 10:46
Still no answers carved into stone for me.
Companion Animal
Finding myself alone,I watch
the dog as she tans herself.
Almost winter,she follows the sun.
But I am wrong. She is clearly
searching, and so moves again to
sigh long into the pillows of my
husbands smell;his breath, his hair.
She curls around his last worn t-shirt.
She,at least, is grateful that I take no
issue, letting sleeping dogs lie,
on discarded dirty clothes.Somehow,
they always seem to make their way
to the hamper, but I feel no pressing
need to assist them. Let them rest where
he was.She settles, finally, reassured
That he is hers in scent. she exsist a the
space of his lingering memory, of his promised
return. I know he is mine,though, I know it
more vaguely.
wlf 10:46
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
"Oh...But Look What I've Got..."
..line from The Way We Were. Hubble tells Katie.. she asks too much. That is her response. This and when she brushes back the hair from his eyes are my favorite memories of that movie.
The lyrics to the much overused and cliche' song Memories..(still I LOOOOVE it..and cry every third time I hear it)are really quite poignant. My favorite line is:
"Could it be that it was all so Simple then,
or has Time rewritten every line"
I think this about my children..my lovers, my past. How time rewrites every line. Photo shops every thing in a nice "diffused glow". That or takes an extreme close up for the gory detail. Neither of which are reality.
But that reality is gone. Memory is all that remains.
.....So enough of the Streisand moment..the DRAMA with a capitol D. I sometimes have to force myself to acknowledge the comedy memory can bring. Like this one I had made for me, custom, over the weekend.
Michael left for Alaska early Sunday morning. Maggie and a friend, downstairs asleep on my couches. Rachel, asleep in her bedroom. Me working, in my bed. Michael in the sky, where he seems to belong.
Sometime mid morning, Maggie enters, looking charming, sleepy and grumpy all at the same time. I am expecting a "Good Morning."
Instead I get a Safeway receipt thrust in my face.
"You better tell dad..he should be more careful where he Leaves these.."Friend" found THIS on the island last night!"
Taking the receipt, and giving her my best 'You must be on crack' look... I ask her what on earth is the problem with Dad leaving a grocery receipt in the kitchen?
"Oh, I don't know??...maybe the VERY FIRST item?"
I now, LOOK at the receipt..
CONDOMS.
I break out into hysterical laughter. Maggie is clearly not amused.
"Friend..SAW THAT MOM...How Disgusting! What the heck does Dad need those for anyway?"
I responded in a deadpan voice. "Water balloons...What the hell do you think, Maggie? So we don't....Oh, I don't know??..have Like a million kids!!!"
The look on her face was a memory in the making.
Priceless.
Wander over to Writers Island..to see more of the sketchy details we call memory...
Oh.. the poem.. an American Sentence.. I suppose..Give me a moment:
With all the sex on TV, you'd think she'd excuse her parent's; BUT NO!
The lyrics to the much overused and cliche' song Memories..(still I LOOOOVE it..and cry every third time I hear it)are really quite poignant. My favorite line is:
"Could it be that it was all so Simple then,
or has Time rewritten every line"
I think this about my children..my lovers, my past. How time rewrites every line. Photo shops every thing in a nice "diffused glow". That or takes an extreme close up for the gory detail. Neither of which are reality.
But that reality is gone. Memory is all that remains.
.....So enough of the Streisand moment..the DRAMA with a capitol D. I sometimes have to force myself to acknowledge the comedy memory can bring. Like this one I had made for me, custom, over the weekend.
Michael left for Alaska early Sunday morning. Maggie and a friend, downstairs asleep on my couches. Rachel, asleep in her bedroom. Me working, in my bed. Michael in the sky, where he seems to belong.
Sometime mid morning, Maggie enters, looking charming, sleepy and grumpy all at the same time. I am expecting a "Good Morning."
Instead I get a Safeway receipt thrust in my face.
"You better tell dad..he should be more careful where he Leaves these.."Friend" found THIS on the island last night!"
Taking the receipt, and giving her my best 'You must be on crack' look... I ask her what on earth is the problem with Dad leaving a grocery receipt in the kitchen?
"Oh, I don't know??...maybe the VERY FIRST item?"
I now, LOOK at the receipt..
CONDOMS.
I break out into hysterical laughter. Maggie is clearly not amused.
"Friend..SAW THAT MOM...How Disgusting! What the heck does Dad need those for anyway?"
I responded in a deadpan voice. "Water balloons...What the hell do you think, Maggie? So we don't....Oh, I don't know??..have Like a million kids!!!"
The look on her face was a memory in the making.
Priceless.
Wander over to Writers Island..to see more of the sketchy details we call memory...
Oh.. the poem.. an American Sentence.. I suppose..Give me a moment:
With all the sex on TV, you'd think she'd excuse her parent's; BUT NO!
Monday, November 05, 2007
Oh, the Places He Goes
My husband travel A LOT. Constantly. Today he is in Alaska...of all places. As he heads back to Denver, I leave for Birmingham Alabama. We pass each other in the air. Then by the time I arrive back, he is gone to San Francisco.
And so it goes. And so it goes. This morning I am wondering why I miss him more, when he is gone to a place I have never been. I have never been to Alaska. I believe this is his first trip there too.
To a husband who could be on Mars,
but swears he's in Alaska
You lift your bag
and your attache
in the same way
you always have.
Kiss me sideways,not
quite meeting my eyes.
You are always quick
in leaving. Lingering
does nothing but
punish us both.
You are a seasoned
traveler. I am well
schooled in the fine
art of departure.
The truth is: we both
know it is so,I am
better on my own.
Left to my own demise.
You are a sailor and
I am your port.
Why is it only when
I have never been to
where you travel, that
I fear the edge of
the world is near?
wlf 10:00am
And so it goes. And so it goes. This morning I am wondering why I miss him more, when he is gone to a place I have never been. I have never been to Alaska. I believe this is his first trip there too.
To a husband who could be on Mars,
but swears he's in Alaska
You lift your bag
and your attache
in the same way
you always have.
Kiss me sideways,not
quite meeting my eyes.
You are always quick
in leaving. Lingering
does nothing but
punish us both.
You are a seasoned
traveler. I am well
schooled in the fine
art of departure.
The truth is: we both
know it is so,I am
better on my own.
Left to my own demise.
You are a sailor and
I am your port.
Why is it only when
I have never been to
where you travel, that
I fear the edge of
the world is near?
wlf 10:00am
Sunday, November 04, 2007
Id Love to Change the wolrd (peace for everyone)
Money..for Sunday Scribblings
Here are the lyrics to this circa 70's song.
Catches me in the car each time i hear it.
Go to post above the title to hear it sung by Ten Years After
I'd Love to Change the World
Everywhere is
Freaks and hairies
Dykes and fairies
Tell me where is sanity
Tax the rich
Feed the poor
Till there are no
Rich no more
I'd love to change the world
But I don't know what to do
So I'll leave it up to you
Population
Keeps on breeding
Nation bleeding
Still more feeding economy
Life is funny
Skies are sunny
Bees make honey
Who needs money, monopoly
I'd love to change the world
But I don't know what to do
So I'll leave it up to you
Oh yeah
World pollution
There's no solution
Institution
Electrocution
Just black or white
Rich or poor
Them and us
Stop the war
I'd love to change the world
But I don't know what to do
So I'll leave it up to you
From: Mary Clare Stanley
Now let me just honestly tell you which part challenges me the most. It's not any part about peace, or population. I'm all for both.
It's the part about money. I do believe with all my heart that we ought to tax the rich, feed the poor..til there are no rich -no more.
My heart nods along to the truth of this..finds the beat. Until my head pops in, and in an off key voice whispers my dirty little secret....
"Have not we, in many respects, Wendy Darling, become the Rich, of which you now speak?"
I can not lie to myself. As I have typed over and over again, why even bother to try?
Does this proposition thrill me, or petrify me? Am I willing to feed the poor? Certainly. Now, til there are no rich -no more? Pause. Shameful pause.
Would I level the playing field, giving everything away, so that we could all be equal? Would I have to see my neighbors go first, before unlocking my coffers?
I don't know. That makes me sad to admit that.. You see I would love to change the world, but I don't know what to do...So I'll leave it up to you.
God, forgive us all.
American sentence:
I already have been educated; so please, just entertain me.
For more on Money Money Money...go to Sunday Scribblings
Catches me in the car each time i hear it.
Go to post above the title to hear it sung by Ten Years After
I'd Love to Change the World
Everywhere is
Freaks and hairies
Dykes and fairies
Tell me where is sanity
Tax the rich
Feed the poor
Till there are no
Rich no more
I'd love to change the world
But I don't know what to do
So I'll leave it up to you
Population
Keeps on breeding
Nation bleeding
Still more feeding economy
Life is funny
Skies are sunny
Bees make honey
Who needs money, monopoly
I'd love to change the world
But I don't know what to do
So I'll leave it up to you
Oh yeah
World pollution
There's no solution
Institution
Electrocution
Just black or white
Rich or poor
Them and us
Stop the war
I'd love to change the world
But I don't know what to do
So I'll leave it up to you
From: Mary Clare Stanley
Now let me just honestly tell you which part challenges me the most. It's not any part about peace, or population. I'm all for both.
It's the part about money. I do believe with all my heart that we ought to tax the rich, feed the poor..til there are no rich -no more.
My heart nods along to the truth of this..finds the beat. Until my head pops in, and in an off key voice whispers my dirty little secret....
"Have not we, in many respects, Wendy Darling, become the Rich, of which you now speak?"
I can not lie to myself. As I have typed over and over again, why even bother to try?
Does this proposition thrill me, or petrify me? Am I willing to feed the poor? Certainly. Now, til there are no rich -no more? Pause. Shameful pause.
Would I level the playing field, giving everything away, so that we could all be equal? Would I have to see my neighbors go first, before unlocking my coffers?
I don't know. That makes me sad to admit that.. You see I would love to change the world, but I don't know what to do...So I'll leave it up to you.
God, forgive us all.
American sentence:
I already have been educated; so please, just entertain me.
For more on Money Money Money...go to Sunday Scribblings
Saturday, November 03, 2007
Day Three...
As I Am
As I am in some
constant thrust,
deep throbbing rush
forward, bent in a
prayer to become;
in progress toward
perfection; What will happen?
When? I open my eyes.
With my first stale breath,
realize it in the dawning.
Today is that day. We must
turn the clocks back.
What hell could live in
this hour I must repeat?
wlf 11:15am
As I am in some
constant thrust,
deep throbbing rush
forward, bent in a
prayer to become;
in progress toward
perfection; What will happen?
When? I open my eyes.
With my first stale breath,
realize it in the dawning.
Today is that day. We must
turn the clocks back.
What hell could live in
this hour I must repeat?
wlf 11:15am
Friday, November 02, 2007
With a Little Help From My Friends
Day two. Kay introduced me to a technique of Allen Ginsberg's. An American Sentence 17 syllables.
I usually find constraint, well, tight. But as the word "Tight" is used often by my professor (I guess that is what she is..she does have her PHD...) to compliment my work...I suppose I will see how I might tighten tight.
Just Love
He takes
the sharp
knife
and cuts
my steak.
Holds it
with no
judgement.
Just
love.
Really amazing. Not the poem. Just the realization that a moment can be brought to life in 17 syllables.
It also proves another of my classes observations about me. I work in "plain" language. I did not try for the words in this experiment..just wrote, and edited, as always...but it turns out 15 out of 16 words are one syllable. Only one two syllable word. Wow.
Thanks Kay, that was very revealing to me.
Oh, and by the way..I believe they are really all supposed to be in one sentence. But as always, I tweaked.. took what I liked...
You may be able to tighten..but never bind me. Not my style!
I usually find constraint, well, tight. But as the word "Tight" is used often by my professor (I guess that is what she is..she does have her PHD...) to compliment my work...I suppose I will see how I might tighten tight.
Just Love
He takes
the sharp
knife
and cuts
my steak.
Holds it
with no
judgement.
Just
love.
Really amazing. Not the poem. Just the realization that a moment can be brought to life in 17 syllables.
It also proves another of my classes observations about me. I work in "plain" language. I did not try for the words in this experiment..just wrote, and edited, as always...but it turns out 15 out of 16 words are one syllable. Only one two syllable word. Wow.
Thanks Kay, that was very revealing to me.
Oh, and by the way..I believe they are really all supposed to be in one sentence. But as always, I tweaked.. took what I liked...
You may be able to tighten..but never bind me. Not my style!
Thursday, November 01, 2007
So, A Poem A Day.....
Huh. The minute this becomes real today...I clam up. Not so great under pressure.
So I'll act as if there is no pressure.
OK..no pressure....I thought the prompt for Totally Optional Prompts was "Quotes". I mis read it. I mis read a lot, which leads to some interesting interpretations of poems and things.. like I have said before, there is more than a little Emily Litella in me...."Never Mind...."
So anyway..I think I'll offer this mashup..Look at me getting all techie with my bad self...Mash up being a fusion between what i mis took as the prompt: Quotes and what really is and/or was the prompt Work.
Off the top of my head..and reaaaaaaallly stretching for this one....
Preparations
She lines up the
glasses in straight
rows, clean edge
next to clean
edge. As if to
kiss.
She settles the
spoons, wiping
stray spots with a
rag, next to the
forks. As if to
touch.
The sound of the
cupboard door
shutting against
the frame
comforts
her.
Thank God for
superior workmanship
and tight hinges.
She checks her
reflection in
the steel, but not
so stainless,
toaster.
Convex and curved,
it is not as she
remembers. She bends
to squint. Stops
instead. Thinks,
"Perhaps I just
imagined it
differently." Even
so, she is tidy. He
will be pleased by
her performance.
Stirred simply
by the buttons
on her blouse,
fixed firmly shut.
Nothing missed
or eschew. He
likes her best
well behaved.
Well behaved women
seldom make history.
wlf 3:33
"Well behaved women, seldom make history." Laurel Thatcher Ulrich.
I had first thought this was a quote from Eleanor Roosevelt..but I was wrongly informed. Ms Ulrich is a professor at Harvard.
Be sure to stop by T. O. P......for some other takes on toils!
So I'll act as if there is no pressure.
OK..no pressure....I thought the prompt for Totally Optional Prompts was "Quotes". I mis read it. I mis read a lot, which leads to some interesting interpretations of poems and things.. like I have said before, there is more than a little Emily Litella in me...."Never Mind...."
So anyway..I think I'll offer this mashup..Look at me getting all techie with my bad self...Mash up being a fusion between what i mis took as the prompt: Quotes and what really is and/or was the prompt Work.
Off the top of my head..and reaaaaaaallly stretching for this one....
Preparations
She lines up the
glasses in straight
rows, clean edge
next to clean
edge. As if to
kiss.
She settles the
spoons, wiping
stray spots with a
rag, next to the
forks. As if to
touch.
The sound of the
cupboard door
shutting against
the frame
comforts
her.
Thank God for
superior workmanship
and tight hinges.
She checks her
reflection in
the steel, but not
so stainless,
toaster.
Convex and curved,
it is not as she
remembers. She bends
to squint. Stops
instead. Thinks,
"Perhaps I just
imagined it
differently." Even
so, she is tidy. He
will be pleased by
her performance.
Stirred simply
by the buttons
on her blouse,
fixed firmly shut.
Nothing missed
or eschew. He
likes her best
well behaved.
Well behaved women
seldom make history.
wlf 3:33
"Well behaved women, seldom make history." Laurel Thatcher Ulrich.
I had first thought this was a quote from Eleanor Roosevelt..but I was wrongly informed. Ms Ulrich is a professor at Harvard.
Be sure to stop by T. O. P......for some other takes on toils!
