Tuesday, July 25, 2017

Grey Day, HOORAY! Here's a poem for RIGHT NOW:



Some days feel like fall.

Fall into the spirit of the moment.

Moments are what life is made from.

From outside to inside I take a pause.

Pause life? Impossible.

Impossibilities are a lie.

Lies can drown a person.

People don't often realize or listen well.

Well, at least you're here today.

Today is the time to read between the lines.

Line the inner drawers of your heart with cushions of strength.

Strength is shown in compassion and emotion.

Emotions are not a sin or a crime.

Crimes against oneself or others are all too common.

Common ground is the space between you and the enemy.

Enemies are created; they're fiction.

Fiction is not as strange as the truth.

Truth is subjective.

Subjectivity is every person's experience in life.

Life, in essence, is breath...

SO TAKE A DEEP ONE.




Monday, May 1, 2017

Take My Hand Cause' We're Walking Out Of Here... - D.M.B.

A new hair cut.

I cut my own.

I snip the split ends, like I wish I could snip the problems of the world: Cleanly off.

I trim two inches.

Not enough.

Two more.

Wait a few days....

Another few inches hit the floor.

Feather, feather, feather.

Kelsey taught me this...

Just a little at a time.

Even isn't the issue.

Layers.

Like ogres and onions and my home-done haircut.

Long.

So long.

Grow it out, trim it up, cut it off.

Shorter?

Sometimes I wish it was.

Sometimes I wish for red fuzz a quarter inch off my scalp.

What message would that send the haters?

I am my own me.

The boss of my body.

Self-esteem tangled in hair.

Red hair. Redhead.

Should I dye it blonde?

Change.

I want the world to change, but fighting though I am, it's not. Not yet. Soon, I hope.

Appearance, image, esteem.

Challenge my own opinions of myself.

Will I be less me with a buzzed head or platinum locks?

Someday I'll have the guts.

Maybe sooner rather than later, I'll take more of a chance.

For now, I just dare to cut my own hair.


Friday, January 20, 2017

And So It Begins...



Do not go gentle into that good night

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Friday, October 7, 2016

September, October....

Where did September go?
Things are moving fast, then slow...

This is my favourite time of year.
The wind turns brisk and the pumpkins are here.

I am tired, but happy.
I'm nostalgic, not sappy.

There are so many things I want to do.
I have so many goals I'd like to see through.

My heartbeats thud, like the sap in the trees.
Preparing for the colder weather, for the freeze.

Now's baking and reading and nights by the fire.
Smelling apples and leaves, being compelled to conspire.

Take a moment and breathe it in.
Fall into autumn and watch it begin.

Friday, August 12, 2016

Oh, the Air...

Oh, the air, is still, tonight.

The mind's eye fire, burns cleanly and bright.

The wind in the trees, creaks and sways in the breeze,

and my heart beats in threes to take flight.


Oh, the air, is smooth, tonight.

The lovers that kiss, do so softly, and tight.

The water that flows 'twixt the banks and the boughs,

bubbles swiftly with prose from its light.


Oh, the air, is soft, tonight.

The hope flies on wings, past the fear with delight!

If you hate, you'll be lost with the pain and the frost,

for your sad, boiling mad begets spite.


Oh, the air, is heavy, tonight.

The love that flows freely is lit.

From within you shall be, and between you and me,

there is far more to see than meets fit.




Wednesday, July 27, 2016

The Stages of Potty Training:

1) Denial.

"NO! NO, I don't need the potty! I want a diaper! NoooooOOOOOOOOOOO!"

2) Anger.

"The BABY gets to wear diapers. Why can't I wear them! I HATE THE POTTY!"

3) Bargaining.

"I want ice cream BEFORE I sit on the potty, not after. Can I have marshmallows if I poop? I promise I'll only tell you I have to go, if I get marshmallows."

4) Depression.

"I don't want to use the potty any more. The potty makes me sad. There's a monster in the bathroom."

5) Acceptance.

"I used the potty! HOORAY! I'm a BIG BOY! The potty is fun!"

6) Exploitation.

"I want MORE ice cream. I want it BEFORE AND AFTER I use the potty. You want me to keep going on the potty, right?"

7) Hilarity.

"HAHAHAHAHA! I POOPED! I pooped IN the potty! HEEEEE! POOOOP! I can poop and pee IN THE POTTY! MWAHAHAHAHA!"

--------------------

I may elaborate later, but... you get it, right?

Sunday, July 17, 2016

Gone Too Long, But Not Back Too Soon. ;-)

I vow to return,
In full swing to write,
For all of my passion,
With a future full bright.

I've been gone too long,
I've missed so much, this,
My outlet, my space,
While my fingers type; bliss.

It's as such, a commitment,
Reaffirmed to the max,
Writing here in my place,
My home library stacks.

Today ends with a list,
Just to hint at what's passed,
"I Feel Pretty," my mantra,
"Take good care," master class.

Green smoothies and sleep,
H2O and long books,
Experiments in femininity,
and new looks.

Thus begins a new chapter,
My two boys feature too,
Maine Coon Cats and cooking,
Some things old and some new.

Let there be recipes!
Also poems and stories,
Perhaps I'll post from my books,
Singing out former glories.

If you've read me or not,
Whether returning, or fresh,
I shall thicken the plot,
Serve my utmost and best.

Take my proverbial hand,
As we wade through tall grass,
Dive down deep in the ocean,
Laugh, but still maintain class.

Fond remembrances glow,
Painted here with my pen,
Find yourself in the know,
Life flows easy, ye ken?

Ideas bursting out,
As a wave upon shore,
Crashing thither about,
Rolling back, forward more.

Fingers on the pulse,
Heart beating the dance,
Wide open and breathless,
Here we go, take a chance!

---------------------------------------------

Mini Update:

-Baby boy #2 is 5 months old today! :-D

-My sweet J had a birthday two days ago.

-Postpartum the second time round has been MUCH better for me.

-We've finally moved in upstairs, but the unpacking continues.

-Our dream kitchen is finished, hooray for Soapstone countertops, Big Chill appliances, white subway tile and quarter sawn oak.

-My almost 2 year old looks like a 4 year old, acts like a 5 year old and is a wise, wise child, but I worry about him wearing his heart on his sleeve (like myself) in a world such as this.

-Current goals include: Letter writing via typewriter, finishing my books, painting a mural in my home office, daily meditation, book reading, record listening, dancing, cooking and singing.