The Attic of My Mind

Time to bring back the flow...

2011-07-26T19:11:00.000-05:00

I have been poetically MIA for some time now, for a myriad of different reasons. But I feel the itch under my skin, and hear the breeze of words stirring in my brain. It is time to write again. It is time to let the muse whisper inspiration in my ear and watch it bleed out of my fingertips into the pen... or the keyboard. So, in short, I'm baa-aaaaaaaaaaack!

It's a new year and whatnot

2011-01-12T23:33:00.000-06:00

Lots of things have been happening in my world lately... well, in everybody's world to be sure, but I'm self-absorbed right now, so we'll be talnbout me, #thenkyavurrrymurch.

So this is a post purely to say that there are finna be changes coming, to my blogs, in my life, and in my goals. Don't worry (all seven or eight of y'all that be checkin' for me) it's all for the good. I'm regrouping, refocusing, readjusting and all that kinda stuff. So there will be a brief continuance of my semi-hiatus, and then I'm coming back, all serious and shxt.

In the mean time, can someone explain this to me please?

Wait... Let's let Red Foreman explain it......

Thanks, Red.

I would tell you...

2011-01-05T02:18:00.002-06:00

I would tell you what was wrong
if I didn't believe you would tell me
why I was wrong for feeling like
something is wrong.
I would explain my feelings
if I didn't believe you would offer
explanations for why what I feel
shouldn't be felt.
I would break my silence
if I didn't believe you would dismiss
my words, concluding there is
no reason to talk about it.

Therefore--

I maintain my silence out of foresight.
I hold my tongue out of prudence.
I squash my feelings to keep the peace.
And it's not because I can't express myself,
or don't want to.
And it's not because I can't find the words,
I have them in abundance.
I have played with words enough to
know their value,
feel their power,
respect their potential.
I feel the finely honed edges of my verbs,
the heat of my nouns,
the heft of my adverbs and adjectives,
the venom of my expletives.
I know the damage I can do with my words.

Yet I stay silent.

Because if I were to speak,
and you disrespectfully wielded your words at me,
minimized my thoughts, opinions and feelings,
chopped and crushed them with dismissing words,
buried and suppressed them with your words,

well...
it would be game on.
And while you use your syllables without skills,
I have honed to a craft the use of my verbal arsenal.

So I stay silent.
Because some damage can not be undone.

My Kid is Growing up Kinda Awesome....

2010-10-08T22:08:00.003-05:00

So, flash back to Feb, 09… Mean ass momma makes E start taking guitar lessons. A year and change of great tribulation, wailing and gnashing of teeth later, the child has not only started liking his lessons, he has started practicing without nagging. And tonight? Well… Momma is sooooooo proud! E asked me to help him make up a song. He just wanted me to type it up for him and email it to his guitar teacher, Ivas… he totally had the lyrics running around all in his own mental mind! I hope he learns to love poetry the way I do! I don’t think it’s bad at all for a 7 y/o.

E’s song:

Winds blow

Rivers flow

Kites go

And I know

It will be a good day

Because I say

I am happy today.

When I see

sunlight shine

It is a very bright day

And I say

I am happy today.

Because it is a beautiful day

Today!

For my friend

2010-09-08T20:13:00.001-05:00

Some stuff just needs sayin’ but….

Sometimes, you see someone struggling with life, and you desperately want to do something to help. Only, you don’t quite know where to begin the dialogue. So this is just something I need to say, and if it fits you, know that I care and I’m here.

I don’t know if my help is wanted, and I really don’t want to get all up in anyone’s business uninvited. So I watch you wading through chest deep water, against the current, carrying a bundle of worries and problems. I know you hafta be exhausted, or pretty damn close to it. But sometimes, you hafta wade a while, and struggle a while to understand the true nature of the bundle, and what is at the heart of it. I get that. Eventually, you gotta get out of that water or you might drown, though. So, when and if you need a boat, I have one, and there’s room in it for you, friend. You’ve helped me out more than once, and more than you can really know. I owe you. I would consider it a privilege to share my boat with you.

a whole month?

2010-07-24T13:17:00.002-05:00

Yep...it's been that long since my last visit to the attic...

Things are in the works...

Revisiting My Favorites

2010-06-25T02:08:00.000-05:00

Since school started this semester... and again, let me state, real friends would have talked me out of summer classes. I need more people. Anyhow, since classes started, my blog babies have taken a back seat. Well, today I did some sprucing up, but I haven't got anything new that I'm ready to post yet, so I'm gonna repost my favorite pieces, and see if I can't get a guest poet or two to make some cameos.

I hope you all like this one as much as I do...

Road Trip With Erykah

Shifting into drive, and rollin' out

Miles stretching out before me like a promise.

My travelling companions on the pre-dawn highway...

my over-taxed,

overflowing,

over-active

mind

And Erykah's voice.

The sun rises to my left and

waves away the dusky purple shadow

of night's last sigh.

"Honayyyyyy...... you're soooo sweet"

the lyric coincides with the gilding of a new day.

Note by note and mile by mile

driving the pain away,

leaving Thought along the road,

let that raggedy hitch hiker fend for herself.

Lyrics, fluid from my speakers,

flood my mind.

Rising like the tide

to wash away the memories

and burdens.

In this solitude with Erykah's voice,

I am finding a small, quiet place.

It is mine.

And the miles roll on under my tires.

I am farther from home,

closer to where I am going,

and not wanting to get there.

Yearning for the journey,

not the destination.

It is mine.

Like silk ribbon through slack fingers,

the notes slip through my brain.

Caressing away the tense expectation

of resistance yet to come.

For now, the music says,

let this be enough.

Let go.

Yes...

Let this ride last a little longer,

safe and alone in my capsule of sound,

wheels turning...

and delivering me away....

Even if it is temporary,

it will be enough,

and...

it is mine.

Bubble-bath Music...

2010-06-06T19:39:00.003-05:00

Okay, you know how sometimes you have those absurdly stressful patches in life, but somehow, the right song can simply make it better? It doesn't fix anything really. It just melts something away. Opens a passage way for some positivity to work its way in through the cracks.

No? Just me, huh? I don't believe that for a hot second.

Well, I'm pretty sure there isn't much in the world that Sade and Calgon can't fix. Sade, take me away!

Revolution

2010-05-18T00:20:00.001-05:00

This is something I originally wrote and posted for the Blog Poetry Slam on Black Woman Lost and Found, NaturallyAlise's spot... but I liked it so I reposted it here. I know... Lazy azz, copy n paste post. You'll live! I'm working on some stuff. It's just been nuts around here lately!

The topic was Revolution. I played with the concept. Kinda thinking about how so many times, revolutions end up bringing you back to where you started from. Make you question what you were rebelling against, or turning away from... If you like, leave your own take on the topic in the comments!

Revolutions around a center point,
constant turnings, and flight.
Planets running elipses,
trying to escape gravity
before being pulled back into line.

That's what it's all about, you know.

The movement of the planets,
revolutions around a sun,
repeating the attempts
to move out of an orbit,
escape the current path,
reaching the apogee
running out of energy
and being pulled back in

to orbit.

The universe is a disciplinarian,
and says stay in your lane.
Revolution sounds real good,
but in the end,
it all comes back around,
and the path is the same.

NaturallyAlise... is 11 years, 1 day younger than me...

2010-05-07T02:45:00.000-05:00

...which means, of course, today is the 10th Anniversary of her 21st BornDay!!

So everyone go check out her blog and drop a few lines of poetry in the comments!! In the meantime, check out her latest poem. You can find Alise here and here!

getting stung

2010-05-04T01:03:00.000-05:00

Anger buzzes in my head and belly

like a hive of disturbed bees.

I see the disparity of effort

and you getting more out of this than me.

For now, I still care enough to meddle

and stir up those bees

by pointing out the inequity.

You don't have to worry yet that I will leave.

I'm still invested, still connected,

still trying to prove that I matter.

I'm still protecting comb and honey and Queen,

with this anger buzzing inside of me.

Angry bees swarming to make a stand, here I am.

Buzzing and diving in my zig zag flight

to get your attention, make you hear me

Flying and buzzing until I tire.

My protest continues, attempts to protect,

attempts just to be heard and seen.

Exhausted, I can no longer fly, only buzz my wings.

My last stand, my final warning.

I want so much to continue,

I struggle against the futility

Too weary, my wings grow still and silent.

And yet, I know you fail to see.

The danger is not in the buzzing,

the anger is a sign of life.

The buzzing is only your warning.

Occurring only when the anger starts.

Fear that moment of silence.

The silence portends decision.

Dread the moment when the air goes flat.

What follows is resignation.

While I still care enough to buzz

to protect my hive and home

there is time to avoid the silence.

Damage can be undone.

But that silence of decision,

it's the harbinger of finality.

Because it means I don't care anymore.

Pushed past anger to apathy.

Then the hive is silent and empty.

No sweetness left in its chambers.

The swarm has taken the Queen and gone.

Leaving only the shell of the comb.

Check out the widget---->>>

2010-04-25T21:50:00.001-05:00

Give a listen to my girl NaturallyAlise and check out her page on ReverbNation. Why? Coz I said so, that's why!

Yelling into an Empty Canyon

2010-04-11T17:46:00.003-05:00

This one kinda just stumbled into being after a short gchat with Alise. The gist of the chat and the poem to follow is that except for my young friend, Susanne, I don't have a lot of contact IRL with other poets. I put my work on this blog, and occasionally share on Alise's blog, but sometimes, it just feels like I'm yelling into an empty canyon...

I stand here looking at a vast horizon,
flat plains of nothing behind me,
the view uninterrupted and vague.
I turn to greet the vista before me,
green and gold and brown,
blue streams and skies, inviting me.
I want to be there.
Where lyrics ride warm breezes.
Where imagery hangs around me,
like Spanish moss on old trees.
I want to share the phrases that
tumble and flow in those streams.
I look into the valley of this canyon,
and for all that I see,
there is no one around.
I look back on the plains,
and see no one,
not one kindred soul,
who speaks the language of poetry.
I call into the canyon,
Can anybody hear me?
Is there anybody there?
I think I see figures moving
far on the other side,
but they don't hear me.
They don't know I long to share,
the melody of horizons
the harmony of crystal skies,
the phrases and words
that sing pictures of what I see.
They don't know I'm here.
So faintly, I hear them,
singing their own prose,
chanting their poetry,
creating their pictures with words.
Or do I just think I hear,
because I want it to be true?
And so I stand alone,
on the edge of this empty canyon
making worlds out of words,
longing for companions in a poem.
I won't give up the pilgrimage.
I will continue to cry out.
I'll keep yelling into that empty canyon,
until the day dawns,
when a kindred soul yells back.

Music

2010-04-05T11:40:00.001-05:00

Tunes playing while we drive
Children laughing at play
Conversation with those close to our hearts
This is the soundtrack to my life

Mingled voices over spades and dominoes
Whispered strategey and loud protest
Spoons and spatulas against pots and pans
Clink of ice in glasses

Breezes blowing wind chimes
The radio in the back yard
Greetings and farewells as people come and go
This is the sweetest symphony of all.

It is the music of family
It is the melody of love

April is National Poetry Month.... but...

2010-04-02T12:53:00.000-05:00

How ya doin? April is National Poetry Month. I love poetry. Obviously. But I'm not posting a poem today.
Some friends and fellow poets are planning to celebrate NPM by writing a poem everyday. I would love to say that I am going to do that, but I don't want to commit to something I know I can't produce. Because that would be lying, and I don't wanna do that. I'm not even gonna say I'm gonna post everyday... same reason.

I have never been able to "force" myself to write. I do try to discipline myself to write. One reason I love sonnets and haiku.... rules. Yeah, that's right... some poetry has rules, standards. Free verse is awesome and organic and powerful in that it finds its form in the flow somehow magically, naturally, seemingly of its own volition. But when I get blocked, or when life takes me out of "poetic thinking" into reality and stress for too long, the more disciplined forms of poetry help me get going again. I sometimes make up my own rules for the form and structure of a poem, and adhere to them in order to get my brain to shift from practical to creative.

Don't get me wrong, I feel like all of my better poetry is free verse. But there is room in this world for all kinds of poetic expression. I'd love to hear what you think about poetry in all of its wonderful, diverse glory!

P.S. Get the symbolism of the image I chose? The structure of the mountains in the background transitioning into the free flowing green of the grass in the foreground..... yeah, I thought I was pretty clever, too!

word play

2010-03-22T12:41:00.003-05:00

poignant progression

common destination

personal confusion

incomplete communication

uncertain expectation

peripheral distractions

unrealized satisfaction

incredible frustration

recognizable illusions

unacknowledged delusions

deliberate resolution

intense manipulation

weary contemplation

inevitable conclusion

going mad

2010-03-22T12:15:00.000-05:00

madness all around me

no rhythm to the cacophony

words have lost their meaning

the world has lost its cadence

all is life without the flow

bumping and jarring

crashing and banging

tossed and tumbled

lost and alone

struggling for sense of self

needing it all to stop

looking for a foothold

finding only crumbling rock

wet with the tears of ages

no solid ground

no firm foundation

no secure landing

all is change

the familiar ripped away

no neat and tidy ending

no resolution nearing

uncertainty will have its reign

confusion will celebrate its day

i am all that remains the same

constant

yet i too will be changed

going mad but staying sane

Still here...

2010-03-13T02:33:00.000-06:00

I apologize for my neglect... again. It's been a time of change and transition in Amyland lately. Unfortunately, when I find myself with too much stuff to do and not enough day to do it, what suffers first is my writing. Mostly because this isn't how I make my living...

It is, however, how I keep my sanity, so needless to say, I will be back in the swing very soon!

Have you ever....

2010-02-08T19:07:00.001-06:00

Have you ever felt the emptiness?
The sting of suppressed tears,
clouding your vision,
making the world swim before your eyes?
An ache of loneliness and longing...
and you don't quite know the source?
A restlessness that comes from nowhere?
Near panic, but at what?
Have you ever felt the break coming...
powerless to make it stop,
praying that you can find
a place away from prying eyes
to fall apart?
Have you ever been so close to the edge
that you feel vertigo's pull?
Tried to balance and back away
before the fall?
Wished desperately for someone,
anyone,
to hold you
and help you
hold it together?
And wept to find yourself alone?
Have you ever?

....yeah, well, neither have I.

Work in progress....

2010-02-07T02:09:00.000-06:00

Ok, so normally I don't post unless I have a finished piece.... but I'm feeling somekinda way. And I wrote this on the fly... seriously, my poet friends/poetically inclined friends, leave a comment... help me pull the rest of this out of my gut so my stomach will stop aching.... Peace and Love!

I feel a pressure to be unshakable
an expectation to be unmoved
an assumption that I am indestructible
a theory as yet unproved

Inside I feel the weakening
I hear the wind blow through the cracks
there is creaking throughout my structure
I'd fall apart if I relaxed.

Like a false front on a building
I try not to show the wear
But my soul is silently shrieking
and collapse is what I fear.

Physics

2010-02-02T21:25:00.000-06:00

I tried playing with some Haiku...
Several Haiku as a matter of fact, to create a longer poem.
Let me know what you think.

It's an old debate

with no clear answer to it.

Which one wins the fight?

Unstoppable force?

Or Immovable object?

Physics is a bitch.

You, unstoppable.

Never in one place for long,

barely slowing down.

I, immovable,

never far from home for long,

need familiar ground.

Your force compelling,

my gravity is quite strong.

Neither can prevail.

See, it is win/win

if we throw out the rule book.

Physics, go to hell.

Welcome, Collision!

Our friction makes the best sparks...

MY Big Bang Theory!

Hello Again

2010-01-06T22:23:00.000-06:00

I have some stuff I have been working on.... not quite ready for posting, but I think a few more tweaks, and it will be. I appreciate everyone who stops by and rummages around in here. Something will be up by Saturday.

Peace to you all and be blessed!

Double Standards

2009-11-30T19:47:00.005-06:00

Unquestioningly I expect,

and would be offended

if I didn't get,

your absolute belief

in what I tell you.

When I say how I feel,

you should see truth.

No doubts, no reservations

or misgivings.

Absolute confidence,

absolute certainty.

I expect nothing less

when I lay myself on the line...

open my life's book

to the chapter of my heart.

And on my part,

I find,

much to my own disappointment,

that I do not return the favor

in kind.

I am the place where "I love you"

meets the arched eyebrow,

and "I miss you"

encounters "Oh yeah??"

*side-eye*

I am the contradictory ground

where saying what I mean

meets skepticism

of what I hear,

failing to believe.

And I know it sounds cliche,

but I'm gonna say it anyway,

it's all me,

and not you.

There's no reason for disbelief

based upon reality...

but in my mind,

dangerous ground.

That's the place

where the arguments thrive,

between myself and I.

Where, "I love you,"

meets "right....why?"

Where, "I only wanna be with you,"

meets "Until something better comes along."

Where "You're beautiful,"

and "He's full of it,"

battle it out for days.

And days

and days....

I'm careful, though,

not to let it show

on the outside.

Regardless of the battle

raging on the inside,

I bluff.

Conceal the doubt,

and insecurity.

I am covert in the questions

plaguing me.

Allow nothing to show.

A confident front

for you to see.

Only that

and a demand

for your confidence in me.

50th Post and Seventh BornDay for Eli!!

2009-11-18T20:15:00.004-06:00

Throw some confetti and put on a party hat!! Eli turns 7 tomorrow! And this is the 50th post on this blog. Which is something of a miracle, considering there was a time in my past when I would rather take a beating than let anyone read my poetry!

So tonight's offering is dedicated to the theme of family and motherhood... different from my usual, but that's ok.

Once a physical part of me

still a literal part of me

of my soul, I watch as you grow.

You are a miracle of epic proportions.

The eyes that show what you feel when you feel it,

that give away when you get the joke,

Delight my soul and cause my heart to sing.

The voice so animated with your excitement

over bugs, and snails and rocks,

it's music to my ears.

You are the harmony to my very self.

You are the melody of my being.

You are my song and my son.

Seriously Susanne!!

2009-11-06T17:51:00.006-06:00

I not only love to write, I truly love to read. I follow so many blogs and enjoy every one of them. Every now and then, on one of my blogs, I like to take a minute to show some love to a blog/blogger that really rocks my socks.

Today it's Susanne's turn...

Susanne is a young woman with a beautiful, wise old soul! She is something of an inspiration to me. She has handled a lot more in her life than many women three times her age. And she has done it all with grace, dignity and faith!

Susanne writes a blog called "Beauty From Ashes" and IT IS AWESOME!! She writes poetry mostly, but she also has a story to tell of her journey through some treacherous territory in life. I love to read her stuff. She is honest, raw and fearless in her poetry. She examines her life unflinchingly, never turning away from what she sees. I am amazed at her self-perception. I actually kinda envy her that, because she came by it a lot earlier in life than I did. But then again, I'm pretty hard headed.

So do yourself a favor and go check her out. She's a talented and cool chick, and I'm excited to see how she develops and grows, as a writer and as a woman, as time passes.

A Haiku For Susanne

here stands a woman

wisdom not explained by age

youth hides her old soul

Haiku Self Plagarization

2009-11-01T12:05:00.005-06:00

Here are a couple of Haiku that I wrote for the Blog Poetry Slam at Naturally Alise's eCrib, Black Woman Lost & Found.... I'm not a Black Woman, but she loves me anyway n lets me come over n play!

feel you in the room
even when you are not here
I can imagine

anticipation
almost the best part of love
building up my need

Haiku You!!

2009-10-27T12:13:00.004-05:00

So sometimes I get blocked... and I've been sick this week, so I've been blocked. One of the ways I have learned to unblock is by writing haiku. There is a discipline in haiku that lends itself to the task. By the way, in case you wondered, yes, I did learn this from my poetry guru, Alise.

For those who don't know, haiku is a Japanese poetry form. The rules are simple. 3 lines with a 5/7/5 syllable/line form. Doesn't hafta rhyme, but it can, addressing a single image or concept. The idea is to say a lot in 17 little syllables. Convey a message with minimal verbiage. Give the essence of your subject succinctly yet vividly. Good things come in small packages.

So, here's some haiku for you....

Orange, red and brown

leaves shower down on my lawn

making pretty work

Too quiet in here

out of sight for five minutes

what is he up to?

Waiting to begin

dreams and plans to be lived out

keeping faith in sight.

That's a few off the cuff for now. I am working on a couple of other things, but like I said, been blocked. Hopefully, I can rattle a couple things loose!

Sorry to disappoint... no poetry here tonight.

2009-10-17T22:05:00.006-05:00

...but there is some reflection and introspection. I'm feeling some kinda way, and thinking about some really touchy things right now. I'm in that frame of mind that Alise would call "moodtrospective" and not really liking it.

See, sometimes in life, you can know the source of your angst (I hate that word, but couldn't pull a more appropriate one outta my arse at the moment). You can know the source, but still not be able to change it. Even if you wanna. Even if you know it would be for the best. Sometimes you can almost see the change, and still not be able to make the change. So in the mean time...

Suffer the consequences of being stuck in your moodtrospective rut.

I know there is some change coming in my future. And I know some kinda way doesn't last forever. Even if I'm not sure how I'm gonna make it happen. And even if I'm not sure when.

Missing

2009-10-14T08:36:00.006-05:00

I miss me, but I don't know where to look.

I haven't been in any of my usual haunts or hangouts.

I miss me, but I don't know where I am.

I haven't been sighted for days.

I miss me, but I'm totally in the wind.

I haven't settled in one place long enough to find myself in ages.

So, if you see me, give me a message from me.

Let me know I'm looking for myself.

Ask me to call home.

Just passing through...

2009-09-20T23:43:00.004-05:00

I stay on a see-saw with my blogs. I try not to neglect one while giving attention to the other. It's a tough balancing act... almost like parenting more than one child. (Lucky for me I only have one, coz I'm obviously not very good at the balance thing).

Anyway, I am working on some pieces for the Attic, but nothing I'm ready to turn loose of yet.

The real point of this post, aside from giving the ol' place its fair share of attention is to share something I just discovered. Remember my guest poet, Susanne? Well, guess who finally took the leap into the blogosphere!!

You guessed it!! I can't tell you how excited I am about it!!

Do me a favor, check her out. She's a young lady with an old soul... kinda like Ms. Verbfashion!

Her eCrib is Beauty from Ashes. She's posting some fiyah! Help me welcome her to the world of Poetry Blogging, won't ya?

Acceptance

2009-09-13T13:50:00.004-05:00

Acceptance is all that I ask,

and the best gift I have to give.

It is the air that I breathe

and food to my spirit,

the freedom to be who I am,

the liberty to live

without pretending.

I have come too far,

and lived too long,

and I am too tired

to play make believe,

for anyone.

I don't have the reserves any more.

Don't ask me

to put on a costume,

don a mask,

act in a play

just to provide you a comfort zone.

If who I am makes you uncomfortable,

I apologize,

but I will not change.

I will not lie.

I will not make believe.

This is who I am.

Accept me,

and I will give you acceptance

in kind.

I will love you

for your flaws.

I will find humor

in your quirks,

and humility

in your triumphs.

When you are weak,

I will help you to stand.

When you are silent,

I will listen to what you leave unsaid.

When you are pensive,

I will respect your mind.

And I promise...

I will not force you

to play a role,

pretend a life,

invent a persona

more palatable to me.

I will accept you for who you are,

by loving you as who I am.

For this, my best gift,

Acceptance is all I ask.

Missing you Haiku

2009-09-07T11:40:00.004-05:00

Home's where the heart is?

Then my heart is on the road.

He soon will return.

Plagiarizing myself...

2009-08-22T21:18:00.009-05:00

Sometimes, I really don't know what I'd do without Alise and her blog. I know y'all probably sick of hearing about it, but I really do owe that woman a debt of gratitude...

My creative side, the love-to-write-wanna-be-a-poet side of myself had sat dormant for so long, I had begun to forget that side of me ever existed.

Anyhoo... enuf of the "I stan for NaturallyAlise" stuff. Here are two pieces I originally wrote for her blog poetry slam. She comes up with the best writing prompts!

The first prompt is "I miss you."

In your absence

I am observant

of that sacred space

Reserved for your presence.

There is no inticement,

Nothing sufficient

to cause a violation,

to motivate migration.

Because with you not here,

there's nothing for me

on your side of the bed.

The prompt for this piece was "parts of speech."

We were past tense
and again are present tense
will we be future tense
or past perfect, is yet to be seen.

Your past participle
predicates my future perfectly,
but I don't want to split my infinitives
as I wait out the verb that's also a noun
and look to infinite possibilities.

Hope you like these little offerings!

THEM

2009-08-13T12:20:00.004-05:00

Composed at a moment of realization and clarity. Maybe not the most "poetic" thing I've ever written, but it's honest at least!

Maaaannnn....

I'm sick

of them!

Sick to the point of fallin out

of them!!

Ready to have it out

with them!

Just absolutely unquestioningly

tired of them!

To hell with them!

Fuck them

and their opinions,

and their misconceptions,

and their perceptions,

and their good intentions,

and their questions,

and their preconceived notions,

and all of that!

Who are they anyway?

You tell me

what they have to say

to you

about me

and the way

I choose

to live

my life.

You keep me

informed,

in the loop,

in the know....

Awww....snap!

I see.

It's not them

judging me.

Fuck YOU!

road trip with erykah

2009-08-13T00:46:00.002-05:00

I've been working on this poem for a little while now, and was having trouble with it after the second stanza. So, I did what you have probably come to expect of me, and I ran it past Alise... my poetry guru. *waves to Alise*

Her words of wisdom were let it find the flow, and the rest would ride its own wave in... and tonight, it did.

Check out Alise's blog coz she's the business!

Black Woman Lost & Found

Road Trip With Erykah

Shifting into drive, and rollin' out

Miles stretching out before me like a promise.

My travelling companions on the pre-dawn highway...

my over-taxed,

overflowing,

over-active

mind

And Erykah's voice.

The sun rises to my left and

waves away the dusky purple shadow

of night's last sigh.

"Honayyyyyy...... you're soooo sweet"

the lyric coincides with the gilding of a new day.

Note by note and mile by mile

driving the pain away,

leaving Thought along the road,

let that raggedy hitch hiker fend for herself.

Lyrics, fluid from my speakers,

flood my mind.

Rising like the tide

to wash away the memories

and burdens.

In this solitude with Erykah's voice,

I am finding a small, quiet place.

It is mine.

And the miles roll on under my tires.

I am farther from home,

closer to where I am going,

and not wanting to get there.

Yearning for the journey,

not the destination.

It is mine.

Like silk ribbon through slack fingers,

the notes slip through my brain.

Caressing away the tense expectation

of resistance yet to come.

For now, the music says,

let this be enough.

Let go.

Yes...

Let this ride last a little longer,

safe and alone in my capsule of sound,

wheels turning...

and delivering me away....

Even if it is temporary,

it will be enough,

and...

it is mine.

before and after times

2009-08-08T18:17:00.007-05:00

This is something I worked on today and wasn't sure if I was ready to post. But after I ran it past Alise n got a little feedback, I decided what the hell...

Now, baby, you know I'm into you.

And there's not a thing wrong with it

when intimacy and physical are in union.

In other words, Love, the sex is that shit...

but...

yes, there's a but...

That's not what I crave.

It ain't sex that makes me sleepless

for days and days,

causes me to be distracted,

althought I am attracted

to your package

and your performance don't ever make me mad...

What really makes me hold on

steal one last embrace before you go on

your way, and about your day,

is the before and after time.

It's in the way you look at me with knowing,

and your intentions show in

your eyes.

The touches as we pass in the kitchen,

and in "Baby can you scratch my back?"

When "we" is more than you and I.

And it resides in the warmth of the bed when,

bodies touching and spent,

you stroke my face and arms,

shoulders and back and thighs,

hands visiting the soft places

in the small of my back

and the nape of my neck.

Quiet voices, bedroom voices in flickering light.

Small talk, and "I love you"

and the tv reflecting in your eyes...

and your eyes on me.

"What?"

"Can't I just look at you, baby?"

And you do.

Until sleep takes us both into the night.

It's this,

the before and after time.

No, don't get me wrong, man.

Your sex... is more than just alright.

But the lovemaking!

That happens in the before and after time.

But maybe I over think things....

2009-08-03T13:23:00.004-05:00

Sometimes

I have to roll things around in my mind...

Like a snowball in reverse

melting away the extraneous

the extra layers on the outside

to get to what's on the inside,

at the center of things.

Sometimes

I have to peel back the layers of wrapping

pull off the ribbons and

discard the packaging

get to the plain truth

of what's inside the box

at the heart of things.

Sometimes

I find it takes some time

to discover what I really feel

to find the core

the central truth

the source.

Sometimes

I don't always know what I think

caught in torrents of feeling and impulse

and I don't want to proceed

until I'm sure of my course.

Sometimes

my mind is a busy place to be

with all the analytical activites

but always,

it's good to get to the root cause.

sunny day

2009-07-27T13:52:00.005-05:00

the sky directly above my front porch at 2:02pm cst today!

breathing sunshine and breezes

feeling the warmth on my face

knowing the presence of peace

feeling my self in this space

having the earth beneath me

seeing my son run and play

knowing no rush, no hurry

thanking God for this day

Short, sweet n to the point.... just what's going on at the moment. Might take the boy to the pool in a little while. What y'all doing on a sunny, warm summer's day?

A Slam of Sorts....

2009-07-15T20:59:00.003-05:00

So, Ms. Alise has been on a little web detox of sorts... sometimes you just gotta step back a pace or two and take a beat....

But I really have missed her Poetry Slams on Tuesdays the last two weeks, so in a similar spirit I would like to open up the Attic and invite anyone who drops by to leave a line or two. I'm gonna work it like Alise does and throw out a topic.... sort of... and let y'all run with it. Long, short, poetry, haiku, prose... whatever you feel.

Only instead of coming up with a topic, I'm gonna direct your attention to the music player down near the bottom of the sidebar. Pick a song, song title, artist or lyric from the widget and take off with that. There's some good shyt in that widget, too. Some of the artists you probably know, others you may just be discovering... and yes, it's a growing and changing list in there, so at the end of your contribution, please leave the artist name and title of the track you used for inspiration.

Now, I know this blog doesn't have the readership of Black Woman Lost & Found, but there's a couple of y'all lurkin' out there.... Susanne...April....Karen....Quest... I sees ya! Even if you think you're "not a poet" join in! Hell, I'm no poet either!! I'm a nurse and a mommy, but that hasn't stopped me from puttin' it out there!

Ok..... so I'll start.... my chosen track... "Inna Light" by Writtenhouse.

I see the dark look on your face,

the clouds across your countenance.

And I wonder where have you misplaced

your joy?

I remember when you lit up the place.

When nothing could bring you down.

Why the fall from grace,

and when?

Rekindle that fire in the grate.

Stir the embers again.

There's really no reason to wait,

is there?

You can keep the darkness at bay.

You can find yourself once more.

You can have the light of day,

look within.

Like night coming in the middle of day,

a total eclipse of the sun,

Everyone feels that pain

at times....

And I don't know what more I can say,

to one who was once so bright;

you have to look each day,

just to find some light.

Look within.

Now, as Alise would say, it's your turn....

One of My Favorites--Death of A Hired Man by Robert Frost

2009-07-14T13:39:00.004-05:00

This is one of my all time favorite poems, by one of my all time favorite poets. It contains my all time favorite line (highlighted in red). That one line explains why my house is the stopping place of so many people who need someplace to be. Everyone needs a home.

Mary sat musing on the lamp-flame at the table
Waiting for Warren. When she heard his step,
She ran on tip-toe down the darkened passage
To meet him in the doorway with the news
And put him on his guard. "Silas is back."
She pushed him outward with her through the door
And shut it after her. "Be kind," she said.
She took the market things from Warren's arms
And set them on the porch, then drew him down
To sit beside her on the wooden steps.

"When was I ever anything but kind to him?
But I'll not have the fellow back," he said.
"I told him so last haying, didn't I?
'If he left then,' I said, 'that ended it.'
What good is he? Who else will harbour him
At his age for the little he can do?
What help he is there's no depending on.
Off he goes always when I need him most.
'He thinks he ought to earn a little pay,
Enough at least to buy tobacco with,
So he won't have to beg and be beholden.'
'All right,' I say, 'I can't afford to pay
Any fixed wages, though I wish I could.'
'Someone else can.' 'Then someone else will have to.'
I shouldn't mind his bettering himself
If that was what it was. You can be certain,
When he begins like that, there's someone at him
Trying to coax him off with pocket-money,--
In haying time, when any help is scarce.
In winter he comes back to us. I'm done."

"Sh! not so loud: he'll hear you," Mary said.

"I want him to: he'll have to soon or late."

"He's worn out. He's asleep beside the stove.
When I came up from Rowe's I found him here,
Huddled against the barn-door fast asleep,
A miserable sight, and frightening, too--
You needn't smile--I didn't recognise him--
I wasn't looking for him--and he's changed.
Wait till you see."

"Where did you say he'd been?"

"He didn't say. I dragged him to the house,
And gave him tea and tried to make him smoke.
I tried to make him talk about his travels.
Nothing would do: he just kept nodding off."

"What did he say? Did he say anything?"

"But little."

"Anything? Mary, confess
He said he'd come to ditch the meadow for me."

"Warren!"

"But did he? I just want to know."

"Of course he did. What would you have him say?
Surely you wouldn't grudge the poor old man
Some humble way to save his self-respect.
He added, if you really care to know,
He meant to clear the upper pasture, too.
That sounds like something you have heard before?
Warren, I wish you could have heard the way
He jumbled everything. I stopped to look
Two or three times--he made me feel so queer--
To see if he was talking in his sleep.
He ran on Harold Wilson--you remember--
The boy you had in haying four years since.
He's finished school, and teaching in his college.
Silas declares you'll have to get him back.
He says they two will make a team for work:
Between them they will lay this farm as smooth!
The way he mixed that in with other things.
He thinks young Wilson a likely lad, though daft
On education--you know how they fought
All through July under the blazing sun,
Silas up on the cart to build the load,
Harold along beside to pitch it on."

"Yes, I took care to keep well out of earshot."

"Well, those days trouble Silas like a dream.
You wouldn't think they would. How some things linger!
Harold's young college boy's assurance piqued him.
After so many years he still keeps finding
Good arguments he sees he might have used.
I sympathise. I know just how it feels
To think of the right thing to say too late.
Harold's associated in his mind with Latin.
He asked me what I thought of Harold's saying
He studied Latin like the violin
Because he liked it--that an argument!
He said he couldn't make the boy believe
He could find water with a hazel prong--
Which showed how much good school had ever done him.
He wanted to go over that. But most of all
He thinks if he could have another chance
To teach him how to build a load of hay----"

"I know, that's Silas' one accomplishment.
He bundles every forkful in its place,
And tags and numbers it for future reference,
So he can find and easily dislodge it
In the unloading. Silas does that well.
He takes it out in bunches like big birds' nests.
You never see him standing on the hay
He's trying to lift, straining to lift himself."

"He thinks if he could teach him that, he'd be
Some good perhaps to someone in the world.
He hates to see a boy the fool of books.
Poor Silas, so concerned for other folk,
And nothing to look backward to with pride,
And nothing to look forward to with hope,
So now and never any different."

Part of a moon was falling down the west,
Dragging the whole sky with it to the hills.
Its light poured softly in her lap. She saw
And spread her apron to it. She put out her hand
Among the harp-like morning-glory strings,
Taut with the dew from garden bed to eaves,
As if she played unheard the tenderness
That wrought on him beside her in the night.
"Warren," she said, "he has come home to die:
You needn't be afraid he'll leave you this time."

"Home," he mocked gently.

"Yes, what else but home?
It all depends on what you mean by home.
Of course he's nothing to us, any more
Than was the hound that came a stranger to us
Out of the woods, worn out upon the trail."

"Home is the place where, when you have to go there,
They have to take you in."

"I should have called it
Something you somehow haven't to deserve."

Warren leaned out and took a step or two,
Picked up a little stick, and brought it back
And broke it in his hand and tossed it by.
"Silas has better claim on us you think
Than on his brother? Thirteen little miles
As the road winds would bring him to his door.
Silas has walked that far no doubt to-day.
Why didn't he go there? His brother's rich,
A somebody--director in the bank."

"He never told us that."

"We know it though."

"I think his brother ought to help, of course.
I'll see to that if there is need. He ought of right
To take him in, and might be willing to--
He may be better than appearances.
But have some pity on Silas. Do you think
If he'd had any pride in claiming kin
Or anything he looked for from his brother,
He'd keep so still about him all this time?"

"I wonder what's between them."

"I can tell you.
Silas is what he is--we wouldn't mind him--
But just the kind that kinsfolk can't abide.
He never did a thing so very bad.
He don't know why he isn't quite as good
As anyone. He won't be made ashamed
To please his brother, worthless though he is."

"I can't think Si ever hurt anyone."

"No, but he hurt my heart the way he lay
And rolled his old head on that sharp-edged chair-back.
He wouldn't let me put him on the lounge.
You must go in and see what you can do.
I made the bed up for him there to-night.
You'll be surprised at him--how much he's broken.
His working days are done; I'm sure of it."

"I'd not be in a hurry to say that."

"I haven't been. Go, look, see for yourself.
But, Warren, please remember how it is:
He's come to help you ditch the meadow.
He has a plan. You mustn't laugh at him.
He may not speak of it, and then he may.
I'll sit and see if that small sailing cloud
Will hit or miss the moon."

It hit the moon.
Then there were three there, making a dim row,
The moon, the little silver cloud, and she.

Warren returned--too soon, it seemed to her,
Slipped to her side, caught up her hand and waited.

"Warren," she questioned.

"Dead," was all he answered.

puzzling

2009-07-13T01:19:00.005-05:00

Where do we go from today?

How do we fit together now?

Puzzle pieces falling into place,

Start with the edges and work our way in.

Start with the frame and watch the picture take shape,

because we don't have the box top to show us

what the final result will look like.

Frustrating to put it together

without a guide.

Holding a piece that seems like it doesn't fit anywhere.

Obsessed with that piece, unable to move on

until we know

where it goes

Because it must fit somewhere.

The pieces are all here.

But what does the final picture look like?

some questions...

2009-07-07T01:08:00.005-05:00

Where does it come from?

This I'll show you attitude,

this cuttin' off my nose to spite my face...

Where does it get me?

Doing silly things at you,

that only hurt me in the end...

Where do I come by this urge?

Being outrageous and whatnot,

all out of character to prove...

What?

Thoughts that make me profoundly

uncomfortable in my own skin...

Behavior that makes me want to hide my face...

Words that spew like bile

out of anger...

That don't form themselves well in my mouth

or my mind....

And lastly...

how do I make it go away?

The Moral High Ground

2009-07-06T23:40:00.000-05:00

If I wanna do wrong, I could do so wrong.

It wouldn't be hard or take much effort to go astray.

Just a decision and some time on the phone...

a few minutes and ambiguous words

in the right ear.

If I wanna be wrong, I could go so wrong.

I could find someone to help me in my wanderings.

A partner in crime isn't all that hard to come by...

someone willing and able to fill the bill

and drive the getaway car.

if I wanna I could

Do I wanna go wrong?

Wander down a path of bad choices and easy trouble?

Sometimes it looks like fun

like it could be an adventure.

I could take a journey to the rowdy side of town.

Would my conscience desert me?

Would my spirit continue to abide peacefully

if I gave in to the temptation to give in to temptation?

Would the day trip down shakedown street be worth getting lost?

When the greater journey is abandoned and my progress is thwarted?

If I wanna go wrong, don't get me wrong, I can.

Any time, any place, any way.

It's so much harder to stay on the road that takes me where I really wanna go.

I don't wanna go wrong, see, I been there before.

And getting back is much rougher than the neighborhood.

Wrong is where people desert you and leave you for dead.

The people who encouraged you to come for the ride...

your get away driver and partners in crime,

they're the ones who can't get away fast enough when going wrong gets wrong.

And it's so hard to find your way back from wrong, because the road twists and winds

back on itself

snakey

shifty

shiftless

to a dead end.

But still...

If I wanna go wrong, I could!

Don't think I sit here being good because I lack an alternative.

Don't delude yourself with the illusion of my saintliness.

Don't for one minute believe that I have no choice but to be good.

Don't forget that I have options.

Don't dismiss the fact that I've been there before,

and I know my way around.

My choices keep me in the right.

I choose not to pick up that phone

I decide to kill the other options,

to rule them out like no parking zones.

I opt out of the day trip down shakedown street.

I pursue the high moral ground.

But still...

Don't take my good sense and self-preserving instincts for granted.

Because If I Wanna Go Wrong, I Could!

On Love

2009-06-23T22:12:00.002-05:00

Because you know the right thing to say,
and because you don't have to say a thing.
Because you can tell what I feel, and already know what I think.
Because the yours are the arms I need when the world just ain't right.
Because of the way you make that precious time.
Because when we met, I felt something click.
Because you felt it, too. No shit.
Because you help me be something more than I am.
That's why I love you. Just because, man.

May 12, 2009 1:06

Originally posted on Alise's blog on the Slam... check her out Black Woman Lost & Found.

Numbers

2009-06-23T21:54:00.002-05:00

When I was one,
It was easy to please me.
Now I am two,
Me the mama and you
My little man.
Answers that came easy,
accountable only to me,
Now escape me,
Because of you,
I am now two.
My first thought
what is right for us.
Don't think "me" much.
And that's how it should be...
Now, though, the two
are on the brink of three.
And is that right for two?
Proceeding slowly, we shall see.

June 9, 2009 5:52 PM

Originally posted on NaturallyAlise's blog Black Woman Lost & Found

No good can come....

2009-06-23T21:48:00.002-05:00

I've got no business feelin this thrill every time I hear your step down the hall...
The steady stride, the confidence in the step, I don't even have to look up to know who approaches, the hair on the back of my neck tells me who...

and whoooo... I feel it in the electricity that suddenly fills the room....

and you got no business lookin at me like that, or puttin that tone in your voice, or touchin my arm as you pass.... with five feet of room on every side... but you're playin the game coz it feeds your ego... and I'm playin along coz you're fine... and

you know I'm lustin for you, and you know I got a man that I love... and I know I'm lustin for you, and I know I got a man that I love....
And we both know that no good can come of it if I join you for a friendly drink... coz drinks can get too friendly, if you know what I mean...

So let's just leave it alone. I'll take my lust on home... and you can keep your satisfied belief that a little more effort could get you there too.

June 23, 2009 2:35 AM

I originally posted this on NaturallyAlise's blog as part of the Tuesday Blog Poetry Slam. If you haven't checked out her blog, Black Woman Lost & Found, please go see what it's all about. It's an incredible blog.

Changing the Rules

2009-06-23T21:20:00.002-05:00

I knew how it was in the beginning

Everything explained and understood.

I agreed to the rules in the beginning

Ain't no fair trynna change shit now.

But I'm finding out the hard way,

what I agreed to abide by in theory

is a hell of a lot harder in actuality,

is a hell of a lonely road.

And I wanna change the rules,

make new rules,

destroy the rules,

screw the rules!

I don't want to be the quietly

meekly

humbly

homebound

homebody

waiting

watching

never complaining

never exploding

never feeling

anything....

Can we change the rules?

The Priority List

2009-06-23T17:26:00.001-05:00

You love me, do ya?

I don't doubt that you do.

but these nights and days alone waiting on you

get older and colder with each one that passes

You need me, do ya?

I believe that you do.

but how much? and why? when I spend

all this time at home on my own, lonely

You got me on lock, do ya?

well..... only because I choose.

but you're not the only one who can see

there's something here to be valued

So a suggestion, while you're on the road,

rollin the wheels to go spin those wheels,

maybe I deserve a bump up.

Maybe you better check how you're handlin' business

at home

maybe it's time to take the road that leads to the door

that opens on me.

And maybe you need to rearrange those priorities a little.

I know what you're working for, and I share the dream.

but when you achieve it, it could be without me.

Coz I ain't even on the list.

The bouncer won't even let me in...

metaphorically...

And see....

I'm not even asking to be number one.

I just wanna make the list.

Just want you to show that love,

Just let me know you want me there,

waiting to open the door that opens on me.

Keeping the porch light on.

Is that club gonna hold you when you're lonely?

Is that turntable gonna listen when you got something to say?

Is that promoter gonna give a damn when the world is weighing heavy?

Coz I am.

If you let me.

Just put me on the list.

Make the door that opens on me

the next stop on your itinerary.

I've put in my time waiting, wishing, wondering, wanting.

I've paid the dues in minutes, hours and days.

I've put patience past its limit,

I've given you all the support and love and trust I can extend.

You've exceeded your credit,

time to make a deposit.

Just put me on the list.

No poetry.... just some stuff I thunked....

2009-06-17T02:46:00.001-05:00

The sweetest sound in the world... "Mama, I love you." Said for no good reason.

The ugliest sound in the world... the sound of suctioning respiratory secretions (there's a reason I'm a nurse and not a respiratory therapist!).

The easiest thing in the world for me to do.... fall asleep in church!

The hardest thing in the world for me to do.... make my brain shut up so I can fall asleep at night.

The thing I wish I did better.... parent.

The thing I think I do pretty well.... parent.

The reason for this post... coz I can't make my brain shut up so I can fall asleep!

Legs Like Lead

2009-06-11T23:10:00.001-05:00

They started at 4 am and carried me down the stairs.

At 6 am they carried me out the door.

At 20 til 7 they carried me in another door.

Then they moved me about my day.

To one place where I gave nourishment,

and another where I gave hope,

and another where I gave healing,

and another where I shared grief,

and another where I gathered information,

and another where I helped,

and countless others where I did countless things,

and they did not stop,

because there was no time to stop.

And then it was 20 til 7 again--

how did that happen?

And they carried me to a chair.

And I told someone else about my day,

the things given, and done, and shared, and learned,

so they could take the next leg of the race...

and they carried me out the door,

and in another door,

and now my leaden legs are carrying me up the stairs,

to slumber,

so they can race again tomorrow.

*crafted after a long, busy day.... any one relate?*

Meeting Mom

2009-06-03T23:13:00.001-05:00

I posted this originally last nite on Black Woman Lost & Found, NaturallyAlise's poetry blog. She hosts a Blog Poetry Slam on Tuesdays (well, Wednesday this week). Her topic this week was "Dreams," and it unlocked some deep stuff for me. I'm semi happy with the poem. I may take another shot at it and refine it a little. I don't usually write and transcribe when I post to the Slam... I just pull up the comment box and go. Anyhoo..... here it is. I think I may have peeled away the first layer of the dam blocking my poejo flow! *poetry mojo... hey Maxine!*

Let me know what you think...

Slumber summons, and I respond.
I take my nightly pilgrimage to the Land of Nod.
Never knowing who I might meet, but always hoping you'll come to me.

Somewhere in that space between Heaven and Earth,
I long for the womb that gave me birth.
Disappointmens, missed appointments and fruitless search.

Night after night, I pray,
to feel Mamma's hands
on my face.

When there are things on my heart no one will understand but you.
When I need to hear grounding words of truth.
When I need the comfort only a mother's touch can hold.
When my hopes wane, and the world seems cold.

So often waking to face another day of your absence,
and the pain gets so old,
but never lessens.

But the rare encounters in the Land of Dreams
make the pilgrimage worth the journey.
We laugh, and cry, and love
and talk it all out over coffee.

And when the parting comes, I wake with tears on my face.
I know I'll try again,
to find you, to see you, to be your child
in the space between Earth and Heaven.

ugh...soooo sappy... Just read The Lovely Bones n been missing my Mom... oh well, it is what it is.

June 3, 2009 1:25 AM

bits n pieces

2009-05-30T20:58:00.001-05:00

Been working on a few things.... none of it making me really happy right now. Not sure what the bizness is, but nothing has any flow for me. I'm kinda blocked. Would love to see some suggestions or words of wisdom in the comments... or leave a verse or two if ya want.

Wishing you peace and creativity!

amymay

Contact

2009-05-30T20:10:00.001-05:00

An instant of contact

skin on skin

Accidental incident

an arm, a hand

Expedited explosions

erupt within...

I feel the heat

and want the sin

Tactile temptations

interrupt my intentions

Flipping

and

Falling

Your touch calling

My resolve

has met

its end.

amymay 28 may 2009

I'm workin' on it.....

2009-05-25T12:54:00.001-05:00

It's been an especially hectic month, so I haven't been able to take the time (or find any peace and quiet, for that matter) to devote to writing. I have several scraps and "starts" that are in residence in my notebook. I'm sure in time some of them, at least, will mature into something worth reading. Thanks for being patient. Also, I wanna give a big thank you to Susanne Drake for her contributions to this blog the last couple posts. I know what it took for you to share your work. I'll be posting again in the next few days, promise!

Meanwhile, y'all have a safe and happy Memorial Day!

More from Susanne

2009-05-12T15:55:00.001-05:00

I present for your approval two more poems by my friend Susanne. Again, I pause only to say, she is an amazing young woman with a tremendous amount of really crazy/taxing/heartrending stuff going on in her life lately. I wish I could make it all better for her, but unfortunately, all I can do is give her another forum and revel in the creativity born of her distress. God luvs ya, Susanne, and so do your friends!

now you know...
Current mood: crushed
Category: Writing and Poetrynow you know

what, you say, are you thinking?
my mind wanders aimlessly
processing the words and wondering
what to say.

time tramples past me
leaving me in it's wake
bubbling madness always at the brim
of my cup that's overflowing.

overwhelmed i reach for salvation
my hands crack and bleed
they are as i would have them
foreign blood running through them.

what, you say, are you thinking?
my heart pumps persistently
willing me to keep breathing
beckoning me to go on.

whirling shades of darkness
entreating ever pushing onward
light hearkens, haulting only at my request
my fragile state it's master.

when will this weight be lifted?
when will we stop aching?
when will this world stop hurting?
when will life stop crushing?

waiting
waiting
waiting

these hands
Current mood: vexedthese hands

these hands
what they touch
they destroy

these hands
what they hold
they mock

these hands
what they feel
they reject

these hands
what they seek
they waste

these hands
these hands are mine
these hands belong to You

Guest Poet Susanne Brings It!

2009-04-27T23:25:00.001-05:00

who are you?

who are you
to tell me i'm not good enough?
this masquerade is endless
talking and dancing in tiny circles

who are you
to try and tear down my heart and my soul?
this ceaseless cause carrying such a heavy weight
pulling and pulling further down to your level

who are you
to try and convince me that i can't handle it?
please pause and consider what you are saying
these bombs you drop exploding all around me

who are you
to try and take what strength and peace i do have?
destroy and debilitate because it's what you do
having exercised lack of happiness of your own

who are you?

reposted with the permission of the author, Susanne Drake, April, 2009

Susanne is an awesome chick I work with at my Real Job. She is a lady I have come to admire greatly because of her dedication to her family and the way she carries herself with class and grace through some really adverse times in life. She is a young lady with an old soul... she has seen and handled things that would make most 40 year olds cringe and shrink away in tears. Yet she never lets it show and she never loses her faith. If I had one wish for her, it would be a life of love and blessings! Thanks for letting me share your work with my readers! Love ya, kiddo!

Inspired by Appletree

2009-04-21T22:59:00.001-05:00

Originally, I posted this on Alise's blog poetry slam...

Inspired by Appletree...

You wanna taste the fruit of my mind?
Then you gotta respect what's mine.
My thoughts, my heart, my time.
My fruit is food for the soul that shines,
but you have to pick it in its prime.
And if you think you're worthy of mine,
You gotta know how to feed my mind.
Pretty words not worth my time.
The depth of you is what I'm trynna find.
But can you deal with this mind of mine?

ac apr 21.09

Where Kindred Dwell Together

2009-04-20T10:41:00.000-05:00

A blessing, pleasant and good it is meant to be,

when kindred dwell together in peace.

Love and support, friendship and uplifting it is meant to be,

when kindred dwell together in peace.

Assuming the unity exists in this dwelling place

and that the ties are strong and binding,

that each cares for and about the others

and none are selfseeking

that pride has no place here

that anger no hold

A beautiful dwelling place it would be, if indeed

kindred dwell together in peace.

Amy Colbert apr20,09

Ok, this is just a little something that started composing itself in my head yesterday during chruch.... should have been listening to the sermon, but well....mind wandered. lol.

a little too much

2009-04-16T21:36:00.001-05:00

did i give myself a little too soon

and of myself a little too much?

if i did, it's too late now.

no do overs, no givesies-takesies, no reneging now.

it's a done deal.

you inhabit my heart and live in my mind,

like a parasite or a symbiant

and the more i love, the more you thrive

and the more i die a little inside

when the return on investment is overbalanced to your benefit

when the give is one sided and the take is all you

it's what it is, and what i am

and who you are, and what we've become

This is really raw....mostly just emotional vomit...sorry folks for the poor composure. I'm just tired, stressed and in a strange relationship space. Thoughts?

peace n blessings,

amy

Rudyard Kipling--If

2009-04-13T11:38:00.001-05:00

This poem is striking a chord with me right now. Thought I would share it with you. It's a wonderful thing to be able to find comfort in the words, thoughts and feelings of another.

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

Anger

2009-04-12T23:51:00.001-05:00

Because I couldn't be there

Because no one else was

Because it happened

There is anger

Because he didn't say it

Because my rock dissolved

Because he failed me

I feel anger

Because it doesn't solve it

Because it's no one's fault

Because it just exhausts me

I leave anger

Time

2009-04-09T00:52:00.001-05:00

It's all about the tick

tick, ticking of the clock

Keeping time with my heart and needling at my mind.

All I have is time, and all I want is time.

My time, your time, our time.

We wasted so much time, just watched it fly.

I try to fill my time, while I quiet my mind.

And I'm learning now I can't do both.

When I have too much time,

I have too much thought.

And thoughts unchecked are problems unborn.

Ill conceived notions tick tick tock themselves into existence.

Like the minutes on a clock with no resistance.

Time spent wasted waiting and wishing

and wanting and feeling

just some kinda way...

and my mind in this time

unsettled, disturbing.

But all I want from you is time.

Our Colors

2009-04-07T15:55:00.001-05:00

our colors

sometimes i wonder about you
and me
and us

sometimes it feels like i never had another home
and sometimes if feels like i don't know what home is
or where

sometimes is most times, really
when i wonder about colors
and cultures
and families
and friends
and trends
and what if

and i make myself crazy
until my heart can hear yours
and i don't care who thinks what
or says what
or how they look at us
or if they turn away from us
or if they speak
or if they don't
or any of that

i just know that i feel what i feel
know what i know
believe what i believe
accept what i accept
understand what i understand
and love whom i love

ac apr 3, 01

The Birth of a Blog

2009-04-07T13:52:00.001-05:00

Ok, so here's the thing, because of Miss Alise over at Black Woman Lost & Found I have rediscovered my love for writing poetry. Now, I don't claim to be a great poet. But dammit, I try. So the format of this blog will probably evolve over time. But for now, I'm just gonna post something I wrote years ago, and I would love for anyone who reads to respond with poetry of their own, comments, critiques, stories or just random impressions.... I love random!

inevitable intangible

trying to believe in what i can't see
hard for me

trying to have faith in what i feel
you feel

you feelin' me?

can you climb to my vista?
see what i see?

how hard it is for me?
to forget what i can't see
trust what i feel
accept what you tell me?

how do you prove it's there
when it's intangible?
demonstrate its existence
when it's invisible?

how do you know what it is
when you can't
measure, examine, define?

especially when
(like me)
you've been so wrong before?

yet, i'm sure.
yes, i'm sure.

and you?
i know what i have,
do you?
can you name it?
lay claim to it?
call it by name?

is it in your nature
to nurture such a thing?
to watch it grow
and change?

possibly have your
world rearranged?

are you sure?

ac apr 17. 01