Late August


One of the poets I sincerely enjoy following. I adore the imagery of this piece, it transports me to a different frame of mind. Good pace/timing. Very beautiful in my opinion.

Originally posted on Sounds of the Son:

Hold my hand, my love
Be not distant
For late august winds
Can bring a subtle separation

The ending of a season
Can bring disconsolation
And the swan song of summer
Is a ballad, bitter blue

Paths that push past the horizon
Leave new love to wander
To reclaim its beginnings
Or flirt with finalities

The wheels of passions
Slow in their spinning
As the course of sweet union
Gently slopes uphill

Hold my hand, my love
Be not hesitant
For the late august rains
Can bring subtle reservations

Sun tinged memories
Can bring complication
And the reveries of yesterday
Are a picture without a tune

Clouds that cover the skyline
Lead love in a different way
To chase the fading sun
Or lay wait the moon’s ascent

The chariot of desire
Trails off on its run
As the mist of summer missed
Forms an autumn haze

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Empty Space

(Photo credit: Ryohei Hase)

A hole inside my heart,
lets the beauty flow unchecked,
and nothing can staunch the steam;
feelings fill my lungs,
I’m no longer able to breathe,
melancholy clutches at my chest;
the dance of ink on paper,
a singular remedy for my malady,
beckons me to partake;
but my fingers are clumsy,
and this heart feels so heavy,
the empty space overwhelms me today.

Tuesday Talk : Your security blanket

(Photo credit :Cecelia Paredes)


Blending in.

Personal security blanket.

We’ve all used some type of camouflage or security blanket at some point in our lives. The pasted on smile to hide our sadness. The laughter that escapes us in hope no one will know we’re nervous. Been there, done that. Though these days I’m much more relaxed about who I am. I don’t use camouflage so much.

But I’ve recently come to the realization that I do have a security blanket: my weight. Let me explain a little further. After spending my early twenties in a bad relationship, after surviving rape, abuse, and mistreatment, I have developed some trust issues. Which is pretty normal, when you’ve been betrayed, hurt, abused, and lied to. I get that; I’m also committed to my personal healing, and to restoring trust with other people. But, I haven’t wanted a man to touch me.

Though I’ve longed for hugs, hand holding, and other benign attention, I have really been freaked out at the thought of a man kissing me, or intimately touching my body. Why? Simply put, I’d had enough. Enough of being used, abused, and treated as an object. So, how to keep men away? I gained weight. I let myself go. Not intentionally though; this was one of those subconscious desires that manifests itself through thinly veiled arguments in order to justify your behavior.

Little did I realize (at first) that I was shooting myself in the foot.

After I had filed for divorce and moved into my parents home, I was finally able to eat again. Due to abuse, stress, poverty, and other reasons, I had been starving myself for a long time; I was so malnourished, my hair was falling out. So, for a long while, I didn’t feel it was important (whether it’s flawed thinking or not, you’re entitled to your own opinion) to restrict myself anymore. I felt no guilt in making myself a sandwich for lunch, with meat AND cheese. I had no hesitation in eating a full serving of dinner. These were big deals to me.

And the weight settled on me. Rapidly. Like 40lbs. I went through this weird time where at first I was concerned how I looked, then I didn’t care, then I cared again. For a few weeks, I remember not wanting anyone (relatives, acquaintances, etc) to see me because I was embarrassed how I looked. Then I didn’t give a rat’s ass, because I was just living my own life and not trying to draw attention to myself. And now, two years later, I can see that my weight has become my security blanket.

How to keep men at bay? Easy, just put on some weight, dress like you don’t care (exercise/yoga pants, t-shirt or tank, tennis shoes), don’t wear makeup, and fail to notice anyone giving you attention. I should know, I’ve been successful at it. (insert rueful smile here) Sure, there have been a few men who came into my life, but I didn’t allow them in completely, and neither did they let me in all the way, so nothing ever came of it.

Honestly, I’m ashamed that I allowed my weight to become this big an issue. I’m ashamed I haven’t cared enough about myself to get healthy/fit. Shouldn’t I be beautiful for me? Whether I’m in a relationship or not. I’m not sorry that I’m not ready for a relationship. But that doesn’t mean I have to be a frump queen in the meantime. I deserve to be beautiful. I deserve to love myself. And that means, getting rid of my security blanket. I’m no longer in danger. I’m no longer emotionally fragile. I no longer need the buffer between me and life.

Are there any security blankets in your life? Is it an attitude? A relationship? Something physical? Do you think we all have security blankets at certain points in our lives?

Secret Admirer

(Photo credit : Mykonos Solymar)

I want a secret admirer,
someone to write poems
with a special message for me;
someone who adores me,
and wants to shower me
with tokens of his love.

I want a secret admirer,
someone to smile shyly,
while brave enough to pursue me;
someone who admires me
for my talents and my flaws,
with unwavering commitment.

My Anchor


(Photo credit : Caryn Drexel)

The anchor in the stormy seas
of my pensive creativity,
has cut its line, gone away,
leaving me adrift and alone,
wondering as I rock in the waves,
where did my anchor go,
and why do I deserve
to have my muse desert me;
I’m liable to drown in the tug of war,
between my insatiable need for expression
and the threatening vortex of melancholy,
with nothing left to hold me steady,
to capture my undivided attention,
and security my creativity with devotion,
because you see, he’s gone away,
my mentor, my muse, my anchor,
and I cannot navigate these deep waters
on my own.

I Want This

(Photo credit: Mark Mawson)

Under the camouflage of anonymity,
a restlessness ripples the tranquility,
inducing temporary emotional insanity,
but several breaths improve clarity,
reminders of desired serenity,
not to be confused with self-imposed captivity,
rather a dedication to simplicity,
a lifestyle that elicits strength not passivity,
while maintaining inner vulnerability.

The Woman


(Photo credit: Kodi Hayes)

Deconstructing beauty,
with each pass of the wipe,
erasing a vision of modern expectations,
revealing nature hiding underneath,
in the shadows of too many sleepless nights,
and a lifetime of contact with man-made products,
yet unable to mask the divine spark,
that is the soul residing within.

Comfortably Miserable

(Photo credit : Homedit)

Comfortable in our misery,
we close the door to possibility,
preferring the tranquility of repetition,
to the risk of chancing something new;
misery loves company,
so we associate with fellow lonelies,
preferring there to be no competition,
telling ourselves this is all we can do.