You

fell off the path
and left no footprint

unlike the fairy tales
you read me

there were no bread crumbs
dropped at the forests edge

nothing to lead my way
I did not know how to be a good

kid
teenager
mother
wife
neighbor

but in the few short years
we had together

while you were young
and I
your daughter
was even younger

you showed me what being a good person is

you embraced that in every deed
of your short sparkling life

until the day came
and you were no more

and I stood on our path alone

and one day I realized
that the way you had lived

were the bread crumbs
for me to follow

to find my way

The Curve of his back in the shower
the smell of him wet
the toasty feel he leaves on the sheets
in the grey dawn of morning
his voice on the phone
richer than in person
holding arms at night
floor beneath
sky above
stars in the window
he secures me

I AM NOT THE ONLY ONE

I am not the only young girl who felt awkward in her space, her body, her role.

I am not the only bride who cried tears she didn't understand on her wedding night

the only woman straining to push a new life out of herself



I am not the only woman to flush with embarrassment at the school play when my child forgets their line and I am guilty of overly defining my self through them

Or the only woman who cries over a toilet full of blood and tissue with full eyes and an empty belly

The woman who stares into the dark late at night curled on her couch whose husband has left knows no fear I have not felt


I understand the swift merciless knife of betrayal

I have seen the end of the road where pavement runs out and you have to put on your night vision goggles and walk by what you already know to be true and not by what you see around you

I am not the only woman to have broken a hip, lost a husband or a savings account


I am also not the only one to fall short of their dreams, nag their children or spoil the grand kids

and when the day comes that I die
I can only hope that there is surcease in that holy moment
and that I can hear the beating drum of all the female hearts that came before me and the promise of all those that are to come and know

I am not the only one.

My Journal

Hello blank peice of paper

first page in my journal

I intend to write on you

to chronicle the life and death struggle of emotion

that constitutes my daily life


The failed marriage

the struggling kids

the aging parent

the new found independance

the new job

the new love interest



all of it

I intend to write here

so beware my brand new

and dare I say brave

new journal

you are in for the ride of a lifetime



you will hold my secrets

my fears and dissappointments

my dreans



you will be the Bible of my life course

as told in words



Your binding is strong

the paper secure

pen is poised

and so I begin

In answer to an email question,


I dont paint with water color
but I do write

and yes...

I do let the characters rest a bit.

When they simmer in my soul

I get to know them better!

Indie

Yay! I won a poetry award.

http://promisingpoetscafe.wordpress.com/2011/04/25/the-thursday-poets-rally-week-42-perfect-poet-award/



What better way to start off a Monday could there be?

If you would like to submit your own work, go here



http://thursdaypoetsrallypoetry.blogspot.com/

Try it, its fun!

And late at night

the little perfect girl
read all alone

she read of sailing ships
and far away jungles
filled with exotic animals
and shrouded in mists
as vague as the future


And her life spun on


a gossamer thread
running like quicksilver
sometimes fast
sometimes barely creeping
its way


Others joined her lifes
spinning thread

a husband
and two children
both with their own threads
spinning off on their own life dance


her mates thread ran out before hers
leaving her once again

alone

and she read
late at night

books of people traveling
and high seas of adventure
and her memory tingled
a frisson of connection
traveling that long spun life cord
back to that little
perfect
girl

and her pillow shimmered
with tears for all she wanted to be
before she got caught
in the captive net of others opinions


she understood it all now

her thread
and others

that she still was
that little girl

that perfection
lies in being


that books are travel guides
for the imagination
to rehearse your mind
for what is possible
when you are ready for it


and so she set off
to see these places of books
romantic and far away
and found it was all true
all of it
and that the earth really is round


this time her future held no vague mists

instead
when she looked ahead
the future was bathed in
the clear perfect light found only in
a late afternoon

that bright steady radiance
that holds the promise of forever
before it compromises into a glorious burst of sunset
that spreads welcoming arms to the darkness