Poetry

Use Poetry

“Don’t use the phone. People are never ready to answer it. Use poetry.”

-Jack Kerouac

 

Last week I had a blog post ready to go but I didn’t publish it. I liked it, and it was truthful, but it felt sorta “venty” and not in the good way. I may publish it one day but for now it is drafted and saved in my “maybe” pile. It was a post all about my frustrations with yoga and all the shit that’s going on right now, but I didn’t want to be seen as judgey or that I was following suit with all the other personalized “venty” pieces going on. I then made a commitment to make two posts in one week– at this rate it’s going to be two posts in two weeks *insert upside smiley emoji*. As I was thinking about what I wanted to write I saw an IG post that it was National Poetry Month. Voila! There is my inspiration–sharing some of my favorite poems. So here ya go! Longer poems will be excerpted and hyperlinked.

 

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*Phenomenal Woman by Maya Angelou

Men themselves have wondered

What they see in me.

They try so much but they can’t see

My inner mystery.

When I try to show them,

They still can’t see.

I say:

It’s in the arch of my back,

The sun of my smile,

The ride of my breasts,

The grace of my style.

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman

That’s me.

 

*A Poem for Trapped Things by John Wieners

The blue diamonds on your back

are too beautiful to do

away with.

I watch you

all morning

long.

With my hand over  my mouth.

 

*Song of Myself by Walt Whitman

I too am not a bit tamed…I am too untranslatable,

I sound by barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.

The last scud of day holds back for me,

It flings my likeness after the rest and true as any on the shadowed wilds.

It coaxes me to the vapor and the dusk.

I depart as air…I shake my white locks at the runaway sun,

I effuse my flesh in eddies and drift it in lacy jags.

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love.

If you want me again look for me under your bootsoles.

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean.

 

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*She by Theodore Roethke

We sing together; we sing mouth to mouth.

The garden is a river flowing south.

She cries out loud the soul’s own secret joy;

She dances, and the ground bears her away.

She knows the speech of light and makes it plain.

A lively thing can come to life again.

 

*Borrowed Feet by Michael McClure

LOVE ME FOR THE FOOL I AM

(the laughing angel-imbecile)

The thrill

of kissing you

is seeing me reflected

in your eyes.

We try for purity

but

still

we’re glorious

blobs

of meat.

 

*Love Song by William Carlos Williams

I lie here thinking of you…

the stain of love

is upon the world!

Yellow, yellow, yellow

it eats into the leaves,

smears with saffron.

the horned branch that lean heavily against a smooth purple sky!

There is no light

only a honey thick stain

that drips from leaf to leaf

and limb to limb.

Spoiling the colors of the whole world.

You far off there under the wine red salvage of the West!

 

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*Feeling is First by e.e. cummings

since feeling is first

who pays attention

to the syntax of things

will never wholly kiss you;

 

wholly to be a fool

while Spring is in the world

 

my blood approves,

and kisses are a far better fate

than wisdom

lady I swear by all the flowers. Don’t cry

–the best gesture of my brain is less than

your eyelids’ flutter which says

 

we are for each other: then

laugh leaning back in my arms

for life’s not a paragraph

 

And death I think is no parenthesis

**********

What are your favorite poems? Who are your favorite poets? Do you have a style that you like more than another? I tend to favor Beat Poetry and Free Verse. I also tend to love poetry that speaks to me on a deeper level, like I can see myself in it. What do you think makes poetry special and unique?

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Words

As I am making a commitment to writing more I sit here wordless. Or maybe just distracted. I know I have things to say, because I always do, but for some reason I cannot access them.  Error 404.  While I may not have the right words, I know others do. You can “quote” me on that.

Who doesn’t love a good quote? Quotes are some of the best and simplest ways to find the right words when you can’t find any. They are also fun to memorize and use when you are in need of some encouragement or a little beauty. For years I have kept notebooks filled with quotes and song lyrics that resonate with me. They were inspirational, amusing, or acted as a guide through troubling times. Today I am going to share with you some of my favorite quotes. I hope you find some inspiration and beauty in these words as much as I do.

 

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On Eating Disorder Recovery

  • “To be beautiful is to be yourself. you don’t need to be accepted by others. You need to accept yourself.”-Thich Nhat Hanh
  • “You are allowed to be both a masterpiece and a work in progress, simultaneously.”-Sophia Bush
  • “Don’t be afraid to  move out of your comfort zone. Some of your best life experiences and opportunities will transpire only after you dare to lose.”-???
  • “It’s not your fault that you developed an eating disorder, or depression, or an addiction, or whatever else is trying to steal your life away. But it is your responsibility to save yourself. And you can.”-Josie Tuttle
  • “You can’ t change until you accept where you are and who you are. You find out who you are by being honest with yourself and others…Life is never static and neither are we.”-EDA Workbook, Step 1
  • ” Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that frightens us. We ask ourselves,  who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and famous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking  so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of u; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people to permission to do the same.  As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”-Marianne Williamson

 

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On Life

  • “If you add a little to a little, and then do it again, so that little shall be much”.-Hesoid
  • “Being impeccable with your word is the correct use of your energy; it means to use your energy in the direction of truth and love for yourself. If you make an agreement with yourself to  be impeccable with your word, just with that intention, the truth will manifest through you and clean all the emotional posion that exists within you.” The Four Agreements, Don Miguel Ruiz
  • “All of humanity is searching for truth, justice, and beauty. We are on an eternal search for the truth because we only believe in the lies we have stored in our mind. We are searching for justice because in the belief system we have, there is no justice. We search for beauty because it doesn’t matter how beautiful a person is, we don’t believe that person has beauty. We keep searching and searching, when everything is already within us.”-Don Miguel Ruiz
  • “Wherever you go, go with all your heart.”-Confucius
  • “I’ll tell you what freedom is to me. No fear.”-Nina Simone
  • “I was halfway across America, at the dividing line  between the East of my youth and the West of my future.” Jack Kerouac, On the Road
  • “Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is so on the road.” -Jack Kerouac, On the Road
  • “Just living is not enough. One must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.”-Hans Christian Anderson
  • “It doesn’t not matter how slowly you go; as long as you don’t stop.”-Confucius
  • “I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I intended to be.”-Douglas Adams

 

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On Yoga

  • “If I’m losing balance in a pose, I stretch higher and God reaches down to steady me. It works every time, and no just in yoga.”-T. Guillemets
  • “Yoga is possible for anybody who really wants it. Yoga is universal…But don’t approach yoga with a business mind looking for a worldly gain.”-K. Pattabhi Jois
  • “Do not stop trying just because perfection eludes you.”-BKS Iyengar
  • “Go from a human being doing yoga to a human being yoga.”-Baron Baptiste
  • “Yoga does not change the way we see things, it transforms the person who sees.”-BKS Iyengar
  • “The attitude of gratitude is the highest yoga.”- Yogi Bhajan
  • “Yoga is almost like music in a way; there’s no end to it.”-Sting
  • “Yoga is a powerful vehicle for change. As you build strength you start to believe in your own potential.”-Tiffany Cruikshank
  • “Anyone can breathe. Therefore anyone can practice yoga.”-TKV Desikachar

 

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What are some of your favorites quotes? Share below!

#TBT-poetry style part 3!

While I love writing about recovery, exercise science, yoga, and all things about making life new, I like to throw in a few fun things. I have done music play lists, dance, and the occasional look into my young, tortured, poetic self. I have enjoyed the later so much I am doing it again! I am always inspired to share my old, angsty, wannabe emo writer self, because they do remind me of my good times/bad times/crazy times, and just what it was like to be sixteen again. Who doesn’t want that? ;). Honestly, a part of me to hopes that they still speak for those who have these feelings but can’t find the words themselves. Isn’t that the main purpose of writing? For my previous two poetry throwbacks, click here and here!

~~~

*Intimate, a tritina

Silver moonlight hits your eyes,

The pools of blue tell me that your mine.

And no one else’s, please, hold my hand.

 

There’s nothing more I love than the touch of your hand. Maybe,

Seeing myself, the light reflected in those eyes.

That I love so dear. Can you really be mine?

 

Nothing has been mine.

Ever. You are my first, never let go of my  hand.

I’m all yours, your all I need. Look in my eyes.

 

You are as precious to me as the gleam in your eyes and the locket in my hand that is not only mine, but yours.

*Pink Floyd Mash-Up (a mash up is a blend of one thing, these are all Pink Floyd songs)

Our weary eyes stray to the horizon as promises light up the night like paper does in flight. Then I think of all the good things that we have left undone…

Oooh babe don’t leave me now. Remember the flowers I sent? I need you babe.

What do you want from me? Should I sing until I can’t sing anymore?

Oooh babe don’t leave me now.  Remember the flowers I sent? I need you babe.

I’m not the one you need. And I gotta admit that I’m a little confused by that. Remember when you were young, you shone like the sun? Or the time I woke to the sound of drums, the music played. The morning sun streamed in, I turned and looked at you; and you had that certain look in your eye and an easy smile. Shine on you crazy diamond…

Oooh babe don’t leave me now. Remember the flowers I sent? I need you babe.

God only knows it’s not what we would chose to do, well, what I would choose to do. But sell your soul for complete control, money is the bond between the hopeful and the damned. And honey, you fit right it. Just remember, for long you live and high you fly and smiles you’ll give and tears you’ll cry, I won’t be here.

Make your name like a ghost, hide your wings in a ghost tower and stay within the shadows. And get out of the road if you want to die old.

*Metaphoric Words

My words are powerful.

My words are like arrows that hit you right in the heart.

My words are like butterflies that gently float across a page.

My words are like a fleet of ships getting ready to set sail.

My words are atomic.

My words pierce your soul.

My words are restless waves washing against the sand.

My words leap from my heart as a frog would leap from lily pad to lily pad.

My words can make you cry.

My words can make you smile.

*Everything I’m Not

I could sing of the body electric. I could weave daisies in my hair. I could be the girl of your dreams…

I could walk the straight and narrow. I could dance on through the night. I could be just another number on your list…

I could paint a picture with your hands. I could light your fire. I could be the one…

I could tell you otherwise. I could play this game of love. I could be just another dumb girl..

But, I’m not.

*The Calling

I’m on this road, long and winding,

Speeding, reckless, driving on my way to you.

I have to close this gap between us,

It is way too long.

I couldn’t stand an hour, I can’t stand five.

I’m gonna make you come back with me this time.

 

Music playing on the radio,

Making this strong woman weep.

Avett Brothers seeping through the stereo,

Their bluegrass instruments play my heart.

Every lyric is the story of your life,

From shame to all my mistakes to the smoke in our lights.

 

I was foolish to let you go.

But you didn’t help the cause.

Absence does make the heart grow fonder boy,

I had you on my mind day and night till I called you.

One night stands and countless rendezvous didn’t ease my pain,

I still saw your face.

No one was good enough, no one was like you.

 

My car can’t go fast enough, it wont’ go past 80.

And on these mountain roads that’s too fast,

But not fast enough for me.

My heart goes faster than my car can fly,

My heart is the speed of light,

My heart is the speed of sound.

Can’t you hear my calling, “I’m coming for you hun. I won’t rest till you are mine again.”

 

I’m calling your name,

I’m calling,

“I’m coming for you hun. I won’t rest till you are mine again.”

I’m calling your name,

I’m calling,

“I’m coming for you hun. I won’t rest till you are mine again.”

 

Never thought I was capable of love,

I shuddered wen you wrote me that in an email, laughing it off.

Then realizing, I loved you too.

Baby, honey, my better half.

No one gets me like you,

I should’ve never let you go my darling…

 

I finally  made it to your door.

And I’m calling,

I’m calling your name,

I’m calling,

“I’m here hun. I love you. Yes, I love…”

 

~~~

And of course  no Throwback Thursday is complete without pictures!

 

 

 

 

Another TBT, poetry style

Not so long ago I celebrated my first ever TBT with some poetry from my younger days. Don’t believe me? See for yourself: https://imageoftheheart.wordpress.com/2014/06/12/throwback-thursday-poetry-style/. As mentioned before, I love poetry. I keep telling myself that one day I will pick up a pen and write again. I guess for right now blogging and journaling will suffice. Today, I picked some poems out of my “True Notebook” from my AP English Class circa 2007. The previous TBT poetry entry had poems from that same notebook and my college notebooks.

Here ya go….

~~~~

*First Encounter After Many Years

Singing every song on the radio, even if you don’t know the words.

It’s cool because you’re singing them with me; off key and all.

We don’t care.

Music speaks for us.

The Eagles, Journey, Elton John, The Beatles. Favorites of ours to name a few.

When we didn’t know what to say,

We sang to the song on the radio.

*Confessions of an Angsty Teen

My heart doesn’t belong here. It belongs somewhere else. I am not made for living here. There is something better for me beyond the rainbow. Past these gates of this hell town. I am made to fly, soar with the eagles. walk the streets with the elite of society. This place only offers so much and not enough to fill my soul, the void. You know when you are made for something else; you can feel it in your bones. Well, I came out of the womb knowing I am to make a difference. Make something of myself. To do this I know I have to get out. Break down these walls that hold me back, and live for the moment. My life on a string. Waiting for my break then I can leave this town.

There is nothing worth caring about; life is a waste of time. Everyday doing the same thing. I long for thrill and excitement. Someone I can call my own. A place where I can go and nothing bad happens. Where I can go and be understood. People let you down and material possessions can only get you so far. It always seems like a constant battle between life and death. Overdramatatics and not reacting. Why care about everything when no one cares for you? Friends trample over you, being left you in the cold. You get abandoned and feel gloom, what a horrible existence. But I long for the day when something will change, maybe somebody will lift me up, maybe the disappointment will go away. One can only hope for the well fare of their being. Till that day it is up to us to make ourselves happy. Even if we fail trying.

You can only put so much into people before they let you down. It’s important not to give your hopes up, it’s important not to love. Giving yourself to someone is a big step, because you give a part you can never fully give back. Crying to yourself and justifying reasons on why people do things to make it  better only makes it worse. Believe it or not. the more you lie to yourself, the easier it is to hurt. Your heart will cry and your brain will ache. Not some ordinary pain. Emotions in a tizzy, continuous turmoil. All just to justify, to love the person who loves us so. A never ending cycle of regret and let downs.

*Forshadowing

Awkward glances, hearts beat fast.

Sitting beside each other with hands inches apart.

It’s all the beginning of a teenage romance, the best and worst kind of romances.

They are fast and passionate.

With lots of kisses at the beginning but cheating hearts at the very end.

These romances end in tears, broken.

Precisely why one should stay away. But they are so exciting!

They can make one feel on top of the world, so we don’t think about the hurt.

We long for the fast pace, wild make out sessions, the sex;

That by the time all that has ran its course, we don’t know what hit us.

It’s heaven and it’s hell all wrapped up in one.

*Dance after Dark

We are together for the first time in a while,

Standing beside my car in a deserted parking lot,

Dancing….

Dancing in the moonlight.

Dancing to our song…

We sway to the rhythm,

Gazing at more than the stars.

*March Winds

The March winds blow over the countryside. Daffodils and tulips sway to and fro. Dancing a springtime waltz. Sunrises breath life into morning glories and butterflies. Sweetness of honey adds aroma to the fresh air. Making the senses buzz.

The March winds flow over my face causing my mind to ease. My heartbeat to slow. My hair goes in the direction of the wind.

*Mash Up Poem (Symphony in Yellow by Wilde, The Beautiful Changes by Wilbur, To Paint a Water Lilly by Hughes, Two Songs by rich, Sie Vita by King, The Night Has a Thousand Eyes by Bourdillon)

Like to the falling of a star

Or as flights of eagles are,

We lie fainting together at waters edge.

The mind has a thousand eyes;

The heart but one.

I’d call it love if love didn’t take so many years.

Your hands hold roses, always in a way that says they are not only yours.

The beautiful changes.

A green level of lily leaves,

Roofs the pond’s chamber and lies like a rock of rippled jade.

A sweet flower,

The soul, that drop, that joy,

I’d call it love if love didn’t take so many years.

~~~

More TBT pictures? O the memories…

My bestie and I after the St. Patricks Days parade in Hilton Head for our Spring Break Trip

My bestie and I after the St. Patricks Days parade in Hilton Head for our Spring Break Trip

Luke Starr came back into my life after many years of being apart.

Luke Starr came back into my life after many years of being apart.

Senior Prom with some of my favorites!

Senior Prom with some of my favorites!

My first friend I made in JC when I moved there in 5th grade, Sara, at graduation.

My first friend I made in JC when I moved there in 5th grade, Sara, at graduation.

The darling, Sarah Shell and I at my graduation party.

The darling, Sarah Shell and I at my graduation party.

Song of the Soul by Sankaracharya

As part of my RYT I was required to read Light on Yoga. At the end of the introduction there is a lovely poem/meditation. This song is all about the last limb of yoga, samadhi, or bliss/enlightenment. A goal of a yogi or yogini is to reach this blissful state. Here in samadhi there is nothing, just supreme happiness. We are not who we are, we are not what society says we are, we are not what are friends or family thinks we are. We are just happy and everything is lost. As we practice yoga throughout our lives we may only reach samadhi once, maybe twice, or maybe never. Just like a Christian strives to be like Christ and make it to heaven, samadhi is for the yogi/yogini.

~~~~

I am neither ego nor reason, I am neither mind nor thought,

I cannot be heard nor cast into words, nor by smell nor sight ever caught:

In light and wind I am not found, nor yet in earth and sky–

Consciousness and joy incarnate, Bliss of the Blissful am I.

 

I have no name, I have no life, I breathe no vital air,

No elements have moulded me, no bodily sheath is my lair:

I have no speech, no hands and feet, nor means of evolution–

Consciousness and joy am I, and Bliss in dissolution.

 

I cast aside hatred and passion, I conquered delusion and greed;

No touch of pride caressed me, so envy never did breed:

Beyond all faiths, past reach of wealth, past freedom, past desire,

Consciousness and joy am I, and Bliss is my attire.

 

Virtue and vice, or pleasure and pain are not my heritage,

Nor sacred texts, nor offerings, nor prayer, nor pilgrimage:

I am neither food, nor eating, nor yet the eater am I–

Consciousness and joy incarnate, Bliss of the Blissful and I.

 

I have no misgiving of death, no chasms of race divide me,

No parent ever called me child, no bond of birth ever tied me:

I am neither disciple nor master, I have no k in, no friend–

Consciousness and joy am I, and merging in Bliss is my end.

 

Neither knowable, knowledge, nor knower an I, formless is my form,

I dwell within the senses but they are not my home:

Ever serenely balanced, I am neither free nor bound–

Consciousness and joy am I, and Bliss is where I am found.

J.Alfred Prufrock and New Friends

This past weekend was another yoga teacher training extravaganza. While I didn’t have any panic attacks or  self-harming, I did have another break through…well in a way. I found two other lovely ladies who are rising above the same situations as I am. I felt so alive and happy to know that I am not alone. When you suffer from ED’s or other mental health issues you feel alone and that no one understands you. Then you find someone else you automatically feel relieved and have that extra support. It was such a blessing to discuss our situations and become support sisters! Now, I know that if I am having a depressive mood or feel overwhelmed with this training I have two other ladies that I can talk to openly and not be afraid of what they will say because they will understand where I am coming from! Joy. O the 12 Steps at work….this sharing is a prime example of Step 12 (sharing with others to help them on their recovery journey).

While on my drive home I began to think about this weekend and one of my favorite poems: The Love Song of J.Alfred Prufrock. It is such a sad, powerful, emotional poem. Ever since I first read this at the age of 16 it struck a chord with me. I knew the sadness Prufrock had. How it can be overwhelming to be in crowds and talk to people (even though I am EXTREMELY extroverted), that we all prepare our face to meet those new faces/hide a bit of ourselves or all of ourselves, will one change we make really change the world/can we change it?/do we dare to make the change?, the losing of precious moments, gathering the strength to make the next move and just to live fully. There is so much that this poem encompasses that literally I could write five blog entries on it alone.

There are so many beautiful lines that scream heartache and self-doubt, which all of us, not even those with mental health issues, can face. We all have our own love song. What is yours?

~~~

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S Eliot

S’io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma percioche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s’i’odo il vero,
Senza tema d’infamia ti rispondo.

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …
Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”
Let us go and make our visit.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair —
(They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin —
(They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”)
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
               So how should I presume?
And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
               And how should I presume?
And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
               And should I then presume?
               And how should I begin?
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? …
I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep … tired … or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet — and here’s no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.
And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it towards some overwhelming question,
To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—
If one, settling a pillow by her head
               Should say: “That is not what I meant at all;
               That is not it, at all.”
And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
               “That is not it at all,
               That is not what I meant, at all.”
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.
I grow old … I grow old …
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind?   Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

Throwback Thursday….Poetry Style

As everyone knows, Thursdays are #Throwback Thursdays or #TBT (I am still unsure of hashtags, so I think it is all caps)?I have been thinking about what to write and was stumped. Then I used the whole Throwback Thursday as inspiration for my post. When I was in high school and early college I wrote poetry. Actually I started poetry writing when I was in middle school and creative writing in elementary. The older I got the more I got into poetry, not just reading it, but writing it. Playing with free verse because I felt rhyming was to stifling, mash up poems were fun because I could use lyrics by  my favorite bands. I was completely influenced by the Beatniks and modern verse. I even had dreams, well aspirations, to one day be a published poet. I stopped writing poetry after my relationship before I meet my husband. Sometimes I wonder why I stopped when I have gone through so much that would be great poetry! I also wonder and think if it is too late to take poetry back up. Could I still get published one day?

I never shared much of work with anyone. Just like most artists/creative souls, and most insecure anxious people, art is so personal you hate to get it critiqued. You think it is perfect because it is you….and when someone doesn’t like your work you get offended because you think they don’t like you (this has happened to  me a lot in my dance choreography/dance life). So here ya go blogsphere. Here is my soul, my heart, via high school and college. These are some poems that to this day I still enjoy and I am proud of. If this goes over well, who know I may dig up some more 😉

~~~

*Untitled (really, it has no title, I just jotted it down)

We’re two of a kind, you and I. Similar in mind, soul. Two drifters longing to see the world. Traveling around looking for happiness. through books, through beer bottles, we pine. Pine for things beyond our control. But you just grab a joint. But our talks are endless, filled with depth. Maybe through our tete-a-tete’s we’ll find acceptance. Someone to hold our heart. Someone to hide our tears. I hope to find that in you. But we have our vices. What does one expect?

*Yay for another jotted down poem w/ no title

Parade me around

Wear me on your arm.

I want people to see that I am yours.

*Being a Woman

What does it mean to be a woman?

Pretty nails?

Skinny frame, nice shoes.

Big boobs and a bimbo mind.

The submissive piece of meat,

Who is only good for making babies and doing laundry.

Years of oppression are still followed by  moments of tears.

It isn’t easy being female.

With the biological things going on within our  bodies.

What does it mean to be a woman?

A brain?

Shattering molds of society.

Saying no to what is expected of us.

Accepting who we are inside and out,

Ok with being petite or curvy,

Ok with being the opinionated bitch, getting what she wants.

It’s ok to step out from behind the curtain,

The veil,

Time to reveal who we really are.

What does it mean to be a woman?

It means to be you.

Hold nothing back.

*Boulevards of Plastic

Mixed signals fill my head.

What is beautiful?

Let’s band super skinny models, and get in shape.

But you’re still too fat.

10 ways to go from flab to fab,

This is the closest thing to the fountain of youth,

Botox city.

Walking down boulevards of plastic.

Big boobs are the in,

Lift that body with the right pair of jeans,

Victoria’s Secret is no longer a secret.

Be like them.

It’s not good to be different.

There’s no such thing as pretty pudge, captivating cellulite, short stubs.

Commercials of pretty women,

Models on the cover of Vogue, Elle,

Shape me.

They brainwash me into believing what they believe.

I walked the boulevards of plastic,

The right diet street.

Led me to a place,

A hole I couldn’t get out of.

I came close to chocking. I couldn’t breathe.

These images clouded my mind from age five.

They are my chains of being a woman.

*Painted Noise, a tritina

Let’s laugh

And sing the night away. While our heart dies

And sway to the rhythm of this noise.

If we fill our minds with all the noise

And fill our heart with laughter

Then watch the sun die

And tye-dye

The sky with painted noise

That settle’s our soul and eases our mind to laugh.

Let’s feel this rhythmic noise and die to the sound of sin, music and sky and match it with the roar of our laughter.

*Edge

Breathing in the salty air, feeling the waves crash around my feet. Hot sand between my toes as the sun warms my face. I look out into the ocean and beyond the horizon. As far as the eyes can see. The edge  of the world seems so far away, yet, within my reach. I long for the horizaon and have my life stretch as far as the sea into the sun. I take my  worries and fears and throw them into the ocean. I watch the waves carry them away, give me a clean slate. Start my life anew.

*How I Remember You

This is how I remember you:

A blurred image of my past

With a brightly colored aura

And one hand on my heart.

This is how I remember you:

A speedy afternoon rendezvous

With laughs and giggles

And a kiss on my cheek.

This is how I remember you:

A tearful goodbye

With a blackened heart

And one of us lying on the floor.

*Tear Stains (my last poem that I can find)

Tear stained pillow, tear stained eye, and tear stained heart. Everything is coming out tears, everything is coming up tears. My heart is tye-dyed with tears and memories of you. These tears are bombs to my soul, leaving scars and bruises.

These tears are tearing me apart as I slowly fall to the ground, as I beg for you to come back into my life. I make friends with the floor, longing to feel your touch.

I see you  here, there, everywhere…when the tears aren’t clouding my vision like glaucoma.

These tears are painful. They burn like hot coal and sting like your words: I love you, but I can’t be with you. Don’t think for one minute I’ve never loved you, the timing is just wrong.

Everyday I think for the better. O no tears today! I should know better because them come. They come on their own time, just like you. When it wasn’t convenient for me, but when it was best for you. They ruin my life and my mascara. I can’t do my makeup for it will get ruined. Like my party dress, the one I wanted to wear for you. Now it will go to waste. Just like my love.

How about some #tbt pictures?

Senior homecoming 2007 with of course, my bestie!

Senior homecoming 2007 with of course, my bestie!

Opening our heart centers. Tiffany and I in 2008/9

Opening our heart centers. Tiffany and I in 2008/9

Burning pictures and memories....just a little pyro. My bestie did this with  me!

Burning pictures and memories….just a little pyro. My bestie did this with me!

UT Homecoming, 2009 with my bestie

UT Homecoming, 2009 with my bestie