It’s raining, It’s pouring

Trying to find the positive outlook,
In too many nonstop days of rain.
Gray skies, a few minutes of sun struggling to break through clouds.
Followed by more rain.

Go to sleep listening to the rhythm of the rain.
Wake up to misty drops
On the windows.

Breaking records should be exciting.
But not when it’s rainfall,
Inches and consecutive days.

At least my hair is curly,
My skin is hydrated,
And the fire danger is low.

I’ll try to focus on the positive.
As I navigate potholes,
Dodge puddles,
And hope the wind doesn’t snap my umbrella.

Alone together

Random thought triggered by a character in a book I was reading.

I like being alone
I like being together.
What I don’t like is
feeling like I’m alone
when we’re together.

TRAIL acrostic

Time to
Reflect as I walk for miles
Along a path instead of a road.
It doesn’t matter if I’m in the woods or a rock canyon
Life feels right when I’m on the trail.

Broken

You never know where inspiration will come from. My MacBook power cord bit the dust recently.

Broken

The end of the extension cord
Flops
A wire slips out
A wire that should be inside the casing
A wire that should be a continuous strand.
Broken.
From too much use.
One bend too many.
A metaphor?
Maybe.
For all those times
We feel broken/
Like our heart has snapped in two
From loving too hard
And one too many stabbing words.

Not as many repairmen and women
These days.
And so many things designed to be replaced
When they break,

Too bad you can’t replace a broken heart.

Untitled 2.21.18

It can begin with a word,
That sparks en emotion
or a thought.
And from that one word
a flood of feelings
are set loose
and pour out.
A torrent of
memories, thoughts, feelings, emotions.
that had been bottled up
for too long.
And all it took
was one word
said at the right time
to knock a hole in the dam.
That dam you had been building
to keep you safe
from whatever it is
you felt you needed to keep out.
One word
and your worst fear
is now your reality.

Holding back

Some things are too personal to share.
Although it is tempting,
Sometimes it isn’t a good idea
to spill your guts out,
expose vulnerabilities,
admit fear,
let the world in on
your deepest darkest secrets and fears.
Some things are best
kept to yourself,
Even if they burn a hole
in your heart.

2.18.18

Poem #1:
Writing the same story
I wrote yesterday
and the day before.
Does that make it real?

Poem #2:

Too personal to share.

Age of Innocence

I’m not sure I said what I wanted to say. I think I may have been purposefully vague and it didn’t work. But, I wrote it so I’ll post it. And maybe when I read it in a day or two I’ll know if it worked.

Wondering about changing course,
Circling back
to a time of
Innocence
Confusion
Fear
Friendship.
Unsure of what to do
Who to be with
And why it was so
hard to know
what to do
and to feel in control.

And yet,
The idea of circling back
makes sense,
Even though it is
still confusing
and scary,
Still not a sure thing.
And yet,
The possibility of what could happen
is enough
to make it feel right.
And maybe, just maybe
The innocence can be captured
Again.

Yesterday’s News

Yesterday’s page is blank.
No words
No thoughts
That needed to be set free.
Just a day in the life.

Today’s page is being filled
With yesterday’s news
And maybe a touch
Of today.

Moving at the Speed of Light

Moving at the speed of light

Some days I move so fast
that I wonder
whether I am running from something,
running to something,
or running in place.
Other days,
I just try to catch up to myself.

Thank you Joyce Maynard

Shameless

Oh how I wish I could approach life

Audacious. 

Rather than ashamed

for behavior that others might consider

Unacceptable.

Not holding back,

Feeling freedom in

Expressing myself, speaking and acting out,

rather than

hiding thoughts and emotions

that might embarrass my family, my friends, or me.

Thank you Joyce Maynard

For being described as shameless

And reveling in the compliment.

It’s time for more of us to be

Courageous

And tell the real story

Of our life.

Critics may call it
Oversharing.
Some of us call it
Truth.

The day meant for love

This definitely needs some editing, but I definitely need sleep, so here it is raw, unfiltered, unedited, my reflections on love the day before Valentines Day.

It’s the day before
The day meant for love.
So i watch birds fly across the sky
And wonderif there is an even number of them
And if they are all coupled.
I watch a spider and wonder
If he is proud of his web
And wishes he had a partner
To share it with.
I watch adults with children,
Moms, Dads, grandparents, caregivers,
And try to guess if they are family
Or hired.

Saint Valentine
Didn’t have a bow and arrow
And Cupid is a fantasy.
But love is real.
Couples are real.
Unconditional love is real.
So why do we feel like we need
To buy cards
And chocolate
And fancy dinners
And flowers
And whatever else is being pitched this year,
To prove love
To show love.

Do these items symbolize
The feelings of heart and soul?
Or have we become conditioned to need
To give and receive these kinds of things
As a way of showing love?

A day for love,
For celebrating
The love you feel
For someone else,
For yourself.

Happy heart day!
However you choose to celebrate
And express your love.

The Artist WIthin

They say there is an artist within,
waiting to be let out.
All you need to do is open up
and let her or him free.
Like so many things,
easier said than done.