Poeming: Elsewhere

Happy nearly February. It's about time I put something in this space! I tried putting a photo in this space, but for some reason nothing was cooperating, so

< picture running feet here >

I dream about running. Of course I do, that's the only time I can run fast and far, rather than for 30 seconds and drop. Anyway, based on that thought and the prompt over at Poetic Asides, I wrote this poem. Draw your own of many possible conclusions.

ELSEWHERE.


Elsewhere                          

I rise easily                        

and s t r e t c h,                 

my face to sun                 

Then sit                                               

to tie my shoes and       

since I can,                         

go out and run                 

I bound                               

lighter than the air          

I breathe                            

my legs reach long          

the day                

is a melody

my bo-

dy the day’s song            

Elsewhere                          

when I close my eyes    

the light                               

within me glows              

and free                              

of encumbrance              

is my                     

body, heart, soul            


Elsewhere.

jle 2014

Poeming: Hovering

In case you thought me dead, not posting for a month, I am indeed quite alive and visiting the GrandBrits (and their parents) in England. The poetry prompt over at Robert Lee Brewer's Poetic Asides this Wednesday was to write an "on the road" poem. This was the result.

I would be the coolest ever if I took this photo--but I didn't.

HOVERING


I lean to the left
but not too far–
enough to keep my
neighbor from
sleeping
on my shoulder
but not so far
my elbow succumbs
(again)
to the metal cart
passing by.
twisting yoga-like
to skip to the loo
(my darling)
out and back in
to my space,
it’s ten hours
on the sky-road
(again)
to see my
grandBrits—
totally
absolutely
worth it.


jle 2013

Poeming: BOOM.

The Wednesday poetry prompt over at Poetic Asides with Robert Lee Brewer was this:

"For today’s prompt, write a charged poem. Maybe the poem has an electrical charge or a charge to a credit card. Or maybe there’s a charge from a bull or a battle charge. I’m sure there are any number of ways to charge the old poetic battery with this prompt. Have at it."

BOOM.

Fully charged emotions

looking for safe place to explode.

must find a spot of empty land

or else I may implode.

 

 

jle 2013

 

 

Skimmer's Recap: If the poem's dark, blame the muse. (Kaboom!)

 

 

 

Poeming after a long absence: "What she might as well have said to us."

I ponder. I call myself an over-thinker. If my body was half as active as my brain I'd be thin.

With most of the credit going to one of my favorite paid friends, my therapist, I've been able to disentangle some of the twisted and intertwined beliefs of childhood from what is true. It's good to know an old dog can still learn a new trick or two!

One of the biggest pieces of chain to be disentangled has been my core belief of myself as a disappointing, useless person. As a child I lacked the ability (and the paid friend) to not take on my mother's view of me as my own. I've struggled for years with feelings of self-hate and the fear of stepping out into the unknown. I mean, what if I screw up---AGAIN?

Part of taking things personally was that, well, they were happening to me personally. The words were said, the actions were taken, my heart was skewered by the one person I believed should love me without condition. But I was wrong, she was broken, she had made choices and so had my father, and the outcome of that was three pretty dysfunctional children. Two of them at least, my sister and me, carried deep-seated feelings of self-loathing. Oddly that feeling makes it hard to trust yourself or move forward in life. And occasionally that raw part of my brain is touched, reminding me of some of the things I've struggled to learn to leave behind as I move into the New! Improved! With Less Damage! part of my life.

Here's one, inspired by the prompt at Robert Lee Brewer's Poetic Asides from July 17.


WHAT SHE COULD JUST AS WELL HAVE SAID TO ME.


my bones are old and getting older

my heart is ice and getting colder

my coming death, it makes me bolder

to say what I want to you.


I once had hope when you were born

but from the womb when you were torn

became your own to not adorn

me as an accessory


 the dream I had you did not fit

you would not mold yourself to it

and so I call you “disappointment”

and block your face from view


I once had thought to touch the sky

and backs were burdened so that i

could climb them all to the highest high

but success eluded me


my bones are old and getting older

my heart is ice and getting colder

and in the weakness of your shoulder

again you have failed me.


jle 2013


Skimmer's Recap: Moms, Dads, you hold some mighty power to shape the way your child views himself as a success or a failure. Use your powers for good!

Poeming: Lessons.

photo by me, jle 2012

This was from another poetry prompt during Poem A Day April at Poetic Asides blog, and the prompt was to write a dark poem or write a light poem, or both.


LESSONS.


Bright sun through leaves 

tree shadows on snow

bird on the nest in the

middle of a storm.

Life keeps telling me

that contrast makes things beautiful

Life keeps showing me

I can weather any storm

Life keeps pointing out

the import of a counterpart

for darkness has taught me

to love the light.

jle 2013



(Though i'm still not all that crazy about the dark....)

Barely Poeming: Laundry laundry.

 

Laundry laundry 

on the line

you'll smell fresh,

you'll dry fine

(Please keep the bird 

poop off of mine)

jle 2013

Part of the unpublished (and you can thank me for that later) "I hear my life in rhyme" non-series. 

Poeming: Sister

the Miller girls, Patti on the left, me on the right.

The prompt over at Poetic Asides was to write a "beyond" poem. In search of inspiration i decided to try another new-to-me poetic style, a Cinquain. It's unrhymed and made up of 5 lines and a number of other cool little things to keep track of. Here's mine:




sister

funny sweet

laughing caring accepting

gone beyond my voice

friend




jle 2013

Poeming: Trying: The Burn.

Bwahahaha!!
 

The prompt for the day over at Poetic Asides Poem A Day Challenge was to write a "burn" poem. Since i keep seeing people who actually know stuff about poetry writing something called a "shadorma" i decided to look up how to do that and combine that with the prompt. And i ended up here--



TRYING: THE BURN. (a shadorma)


She’s on fire.

Watch as she burns bright

see her pink

and black shoes

walking fast on the treadmill.

Something burns for sure.



jle 2013

Poeming: Communication.

On the 16th over at Poetic Asides we were challenged to write a Possible poem or an IMpossible poem.

This picture actually scares me.

COMMUNICATION.

In the late 70s he said to his coworkers,

“You’ll see, one day we’ll all have tele-

phones we can carry around with us!” Then

they all threw their heads back and laughed.



(and yes i CAN call this a poem, and you're not the boss of me. This was a true story, of my hubby at work.)

Poeming: "F" Words.



This doesn't really go, but it made me laugh. Good enough!

Over at Poetic Asides the poetry prompt for the 15th was "infestation." So i wrote this bitching poem--and i don't mean like "Bitchin' jogging suit, dude!" i mean "bitching." (Hmm. Should i make that a new tag for the label cloud?)

“F” WORDS.

and when fatigue infests
like locusts on a vine
like ants marching in line
steadily, thoroughly

this ache that won’t give up
like fire in my veins
and I don’t hold the reins
plaguing me, utterly

they say it’s in my head
yes there and in my legs
and the rest of me, it begs
believing me, “pains”takingly

some days I barely bear
the weight of it
I’m in the pit
totally, submersedly

Some say “Well you can’t DIE from it”
that’s the good thing—
also the bad thing—
occasionally, Fibromyalgia-cally.


jle 2013

Poeming: Totally.

Thanks, offthemark.com!
 

 The poetry prompt? To write an "express" poem. My take?

TOTALLY.



how do I state this

precisely,

unambiguously:

that when I see

only me,

myopically,

I see selfishly--

not the least

graciously,

then seriously?

I just need

to get over me!

jle 2013



i know, i know, "deep thoughts".... i can get pretty self-focused when the pain and fatigue of fibromyalgia seems to be winning, as it has been lately!

Poeming: A Possible Sonnet About Sharing.

Poetic Asides prompt for today: write a sonnet, a 14 line rhyming poem. And, well, it sure ain't Shakespeare but.....

 

A POSSIBLE SONNET ABOUT SHARING.

 

The dogs they cuddle every night
while I am trying to sleep
and even though my rest is deep
they wake me up in fright.
I startle when they lick my face
(oft times from head to chin)
destroying dreams I’m nestled in
and cause my heart to race.
You ask me why I let them stay
upon our cozy bed?
(and here you see my face is red)
I lost that skirmish the first day:
my hubby who seems tougher
couldn’t see the poor things “suffer.”

jle 2013

Poeming (of sorts): (Not So) Amuse(ing)-Bouche.

At Poetic Asides, the prompt for Saturday the 13th (also my son's 25th birthday!) was to write a comparison poem. Here's my offering of the day. In case you don't watch Masterchef or some other cooking show where you learn hoity-toity words like "amuse-bouche", it means "something to please the mouth" and is a one bite appetizer kinda thing. And i like the way it sounds--it amuses me.

one of my "delightful" green concoctions.

(NOT SO) AMUSE(ING)-BOUCHE.



When I make green juices

with vitamins and such

I feel so very thin (within)

like I’m not aging (much.)

When I give in to sugar

a (BIG!) weakness of mine

I feel my hips and thighs are

becoming elephantine.

I wish I were less prone to

these games inside my head,

but if they get too crushing

I (have a snack and) go to bed.

 

 

(wink!) jle 2013

Poeming: Broken.



Another "broken" poem from the prompt over at Poetic Asides.

 

 

BROKEN.


Their family broke the other year

now I, the house, am waiting

the dust lies lank, a beggar’s coat,

over scattered left-behinds

 

their family broke the other year

and each one moved away

and left what was--or might have been--

a home, now dull and silent


their family broke the other year

and I, the house, am waiting

for voices, footsteps once again

to let me give them shelter.

jle 2013

 

Poeming: Personal Ad.

The Poem A Day prompt over at Poetic Asides was to write a "broke" poem.

 

{place missing muse here}

PERSONAL AD.


Words in search of symbolic phrase

would like to meet nice poet

with living muse.




jle 2013

Poeming: Build a Fam.

 The Poem A Day challenge over at Poetic Asides asks us to write an instructional poem for today. Here's mine.

BUILD A FAM.


Marry.

Have children.

Stumble along trying not to make all the same mistakes as your parents.

Add a scoop of your own unique mistakes to the mix.

Save for their future therapy.

Shake well.

Yields 1 family,

keeping the “fun”

in dysfunctional.


jle 2013




All true--except for the "saving" part!

Poeming: SEVENLING (the smooth surface)

Over at Poetic Asides, the poem of the day was to be a "Sevenling." Now, while i think a "sevenling" sounds more like a Tolkein creature, it is in actuality a poem form made up of 2 tercets (yeh, i didn't know what they were either) and the third stanza is a stand-alone line that can be a punch-line or a twist of some kind. Here is my bit of Sevenling Wisdom for the day.

 

SEVENLING (the smooth surface)

the smooth surface sluggishly breaks

apart, a jagged line appearing.

a crevice is born.

 

slowly, leisurely, the crack widens

accepting the now flowing

external ooze.

 

two rounded cake sides should not be put together.

 

 

jle 2013

And that's all i have to say about that.

Poeming: Dear Sis

The prompt for Saturday over at Poetic Asides was to write a post poem. Here's mine.


DEAR SIS--


You know that recipe Mom

used to make, the one with

the carrots in it that she got

off the ketchup bottle? I made

it for dinner the other night,

remember how much I liked

that one when we were kids?

The note she wrote at the

bottom made me giggle

again and I wanted to call

her, but she’s gone.

And then I remember,


so are you


and there’s nobody to

call in this post-family

world of mine.



jle 2013

Poeming: Hold That Moment (remembering Patti)

My sister Patti in the Vail mountains.
 See why i thought she was the pretty one?

HOLD THAT MOMENT
(remembering Patti)


Hold that moment

two girls laughter

dust-drenched 

sun-drenched

mountain trail

Hold that mem’ry

toes in ice cold

stream now

close my eyes


I’m there.



jle 2013

Poeming: Gopher Me.

 In pursuit of a suitable companion image, I found that gophers may surface only to be grabbed by huge heron birds or stalked by cats ten times their size (no wonder I rarely stick my neck out!) However, these were all photos on people's personal websites and I was too timid to post them here.

Here's my additon to the Poetic Asides Poem A Day challenge for a "tentative" poem.

GOPHER ME.


cautiously

carefully

with one eye

squinting about

I poke

my head

above ground,

 

gingerly

reaching

for my missing

bottle

of

brave.

 

 

There are also more pictures on the interweb than I thought possible of people sticking their head in the ground. Go figure.