Posts Tagged With: words

poetry on a thursday

Although this wasn’t written today it is fairly new; with the cool air and the autumn breeze it seemed an appropriate day to share it.

My God! Do you really not see what I see when I look at you?
The way you sparkle when you laugh, like the diamonds of early dew;
the light that glows from deep in your soul when you’re telling me something new;
the strength that emanates from your hands when you’re working with a tool;
the depth of wisdom behind your eyes that shouts that you’re no fool;
the flow of your hair, the curve of your hip that your beauty do betray;
the love that breathes and beats in your heart — it all makes me want to stay.
I wish that you could see yourself through my eyes now and then;
you wouldn’t doubt your value or your worth ever again.

This poem percolated for a few days, and I lost some of it while wool-gathering. I think it still turned out okay. 

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Categories: friendship, love, poetry, Uncategorized, words | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

musings (on death, in this case)

The first line of this crept into my head as I was peanut-buttering my toast this morning. No idea why, but I thought I had better sit down and find some paper pretty quickly (kind of like that split second when you know you’re about to throw up), so I did just that. And ended up with this:

 

I have held the hand of Death
as it invades and seeks to usurp
the breath of Life in a loved one’s body.
While Death is not pretty and Death is not proud,
wanting and waiting to snuff out the Life within,
it does seem to care for the shell and the skin without.
Rarely have I felt a hand so soft or smooth
as one struggling to hold on to another day or two.
Skin stretched taut over cheekbone and brow
may seem a grotesque mask to some,
but if so then surely one made from the finest silk
with nary a furrow or crease.
It is almost as if Death, knowing its own reputation
doth proceed, has searched for some small way
to repay the great sacrifices made,
and understanding that family and friends may be holding fast,
offers the only softness it knows,
one of gentle touch.

 

As I said, I don’t know where this came from, I only know it had to come out.

Categories: loss, love, words | Tags: , , , , , , | 2 Comments

amy

I went to see AMY yesterday.

I knew I wanted to see this movie from the moment I became aware of its existence. I knew I would love it. I knew I would leave the theatre angry, frustrated, sad, and smiling.

There wasn’t really anything in the movie that I didn’t already know; no secret confessions; no deep, dark revelations; no surprises. And I’m not anywhere near to being what you would call an obsessed, huge, or even big fan of Amy Winehouse.

There it is: I’m just some average music lover who appreciated the genius of a young singer-songwriter — and I knew all about her.

What is it about us, as a people, that makes us think we have any right to know everything there is to know about celebrities? Why do we build people up to impossible heights, making it equally impossible for them to lead any sort of normal life, and then revel in their inevitable downfall? Listen, I know she had problems, I know she was a substance abuser, I know she had an eating disorder. I know that the general public is not directly responsible for her death, but come on! Truly, I think we all need to take a good hard look at the way we treat the artists we love: actors, musicians, writers. We think someone does a great job, is fantastic at what they do; we admire their artistry, their talent, their gift. Then we harangue and harass them, chasing them down, following their every move, feeling like we deserve to be a part of their lives. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy seeing photos of my favourite artists. But I like to see what they choose to share with us. I don’t like, nor do I or anyone else need to see celeb x caught in an illicit lip-lock with celeb y after midnight in some swanky club, or celeb z stumbling to the curb having been tossed out of a neighbourhood burger joint. It’s none of my business. It’s none of your business. It’s certainly not the business of 142 photographers. We have created this mess. Every living soul has a derailment or two or twenty-eight over the course of their lifetime; we don’t need to try and make every single one of them into a massive train wreck.

Look, I know the drill: the person who needs help has to want the help. You can’t make someone go to rehab and expect that it will stick at all if they don’t want to be there in the first place; but you sure as hell aren’t helping them any by telling them they’re fine and don’t need to go. Amy Winehouse was possessed of a tortured soul. Her struggles gave her the foundation for her artistic expression. She wrote what she lived and I don’t doubt that she relived those experiences every time she breathed life into them on the stage. She was a poet. She was brilliant; she was young; she was scared; she was in over her head. She was sweet; she was funny; she was smart. She was like a firework: we hear the sizzle, the whoosh, the lead-up; then there’s this awe inducing flash, an explosion of colour and light interrupted by the bang/pop that we know came first but just couldn’t keep up; then gone — the absence of the light and colour so stark that you can almost feel it; and we’re left with a lingering puff of smoke dissipating into the atmosphere much faster than we would like.

This movie. I grinned. I chuckled. I grooved. I clenched my jaw. I shook my head. I laughed out loud. I smiled a lot. I cried. I sang. I was prepared for all of the feelings. Some of it was hard to watch, even though I knew what was happening. I had seen it on the news, after all. Some of it was fantastic, simply mesmerizing. I was surprised by what triggered my tears: Tony Bennett. Man, I love this movie.

I do miss you, Amy Winehouse. I would have loved to hear (and feel) whatever else you might have had in store for us.

Categories: loss, love, music, poetry | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

springtime

Four little haiku written on a sunny day in the middle of April, on a day trip to the hairdresser’s.

you shine so brightly

like a star that is falling

lighting up the sky

springtime and fresh air

like a cleansing breeze you breathe

new life to my soul

the newness of grass

awakened from winter’s sleep

bright and verdant green

hum of the dryer

soft music and phone ringing

hairdressers’ soundtrack

Categories: poetry, words | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment

stream of unconsciousness

well, do they?

well, do they?

Do jellybeans die? I don’t think I mean for real. I don’t know. It was in my dream. And I’m not even sure where it fits in, but I woke up last night at 2:53am wondering “do jellybeans die?”
It went something like this: blah, blah, cruise ship/office tower/mall, serial killer, David Hasselhoff, blah, blah, Mandarin employee (both the restaurant and her ethnicity – but she may have been a secret agent and not just a waitress), giant escalator-type thingy that’s more like a ride/secret passage, blah, blah, giant sushi tray (for landing in), bandage, damaged, rip the bandage off, and that’s where I woke up — wondering “do jellybeans die?”
‪#‎brilliantmind‬ ‪#‎yogadidthis‬ ‪#‎ineedtodrinkmore‬

Categories: words | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment

if it’s Tuesday this must be poetry …

you come to me

you come to me from time to time
with neither reason nor with rhyme
you come to me in memories
you come to me in dreams
you come to me and fill me up
until I’m bursting at the seams
you come to me on starry nights
on gloomy days devoid of light
you come to me with sparkling eyes
if I hold my breath I can hear your sighs
you come to me and whisper soft
those words of love keep my soul aloft
you come to me — is it your intent
my sanity to steal?
you’ve already taken all my heart
won’t you come to me for real?

Categories: words | Tags: , , , | 2 Comments

wisdom on a tuesday

I don’t often do this, but I am sharing a blog post I read over at Renegade Mothering. It’s important, it’s real and it’s something you should share with your friends. It’s brilliant, really. I get it. I think you’ll get it.

Oh, and, it made me cry. And laugh, too. Give it a look and tell me what you think.

 

The No-Bullshit, No-Drama, Friendship Manifesto

 

Thanks for reading.

Categories: friendship, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

fun with words (-ill)

Not completely sleepless last night; actually the best kind of tired feeling there is, when physical and emotional meld together in just the right proportions. It’s very rare and oh so sweet. Before drifting off into an almost motionless 5 straight hours of uninterrupted bliss, I finished this little thing off. The first five ‘lines’ have been sitting on my dresser, scrawled on a post-it, for at least 6 weeks now. My muse smiled and I’m happy with the finished piece. It’s just a little bit of fun with words. 🙂

you thrill me
you chill me
you put me through the mill
addicted like a pill
can’t ever get my fill
you bend me to your will
I’ll climb the hill like Jack and Jill
without you I feel ill
you’ve tilled the soil of my soul
drilled as deep as you can go
my love spreads like an oil spill
and you absorb it with such skill
can’t no one ever pay that bill

and still
I’ll be with you until …

Categories: Uncategorized, words | Tags: , , , , | 3 Comments

12 Jan – a windy night

You know those nights when you just can’t get to sleep because of some force of nature or another?

I’m fine with just about anything if I’m asleep. Trees cracking an losing limbs due to an ice storm? Didn’t hear a thing. Garbage cans flying down the street in gale force winds? Sleeping as soundly as possible. Raging downpour? No problem. If I am able to get to sleep, there’s no way Mother Nature is going to wake me before I’m ready.

If I can’t get to sleep before there is wind or rain or the eerie brightness of a snowfall, then all bets are off and I’m up for hours. Such was the case on the 12th of January. And so, I present you with the following:

Still awake; can’t sleep.
Thoughts of you spinning round in my head.
Like a favourite CD with track 2 on repeat.
The wind is loud and strong enough to clear my mind, you’d think.
But all it does is blow you back in and offer you a drink.
You sit and snuggle in and wait; I don’t know what for.
I try to push you out but you come right back; waves lapping against my shore.

Categories: Uncategorized, words | Tags: , , , , | 2 Comments

conversations?

Conversations in my head
Discussing things we’ve never said

Do you have conversations in your head? Are they conversations with yourself? Mine aren’t. Not usually anyway. They are actual conversations with other, real, people. People that I never seem to find the time to actually talk to. Sometimes they are rehashing snippets of conversations we have had, or started and didn’t finish. Sometimes I like them, sometimes I don’t. I get to say the things I want to say, without worrying about time constraints or little ears listening in from around the corner. The other half of the discussion doesn’t always go as I would hope. Truly. I don’t have them just say the things I want to hear. Well, okay, sometimes I do, but sometimes I am my own worst enemy playing devil’s advocate.

My biggest problem with conversations in my head is that when I actually see the person I’ve been “talking” to I can’t remember if we’ve already discussed something or not. It drives me nuts .. more nuts than I already am. The conversations in my head aren’t helpful and are a huge waste of time. Sometimes I write in my head as well. And that doesn’t work out either. Not really. There are always things that pop into my head and I know I should write it down or type it out because when I try to do it later I won’t remember what it was or exactly how I worded it. But the problem with that, of course, is that I’d be jotting stuff down all day and be getting nowhere at all with my list of chores.

How do people with children, with families, ever get to have real conversations with other people? It’s not the idle chit-chat at the grocery store or in the drive-thru. I don’t mean about what to make for dinner or how many bags of yard waste you gathered and put to the curb on the weekend. I mean a real, heart-to-heart, “these are my hopes and dreams” conversation. The kind of thing you have a best friend (or maybe a spouse) for. If  you can’t even find the time, let alone the right time, to talk to the one person that you can talk to about this stuff — then what?

Conversations in my head
Discussing things we’ve never said

Categories: Uncategorized, words | Tags: , , , | 2 Comments

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