poemcrazy: listening to ourselves

"We have to start with ourselves before we can reach beyond ourselves." Susan Goldsmith Wooldridge, poemcrazy

i am a waterfall

     pummeling the cool pool rocks
     that await below

     disturbing your slumber with
     a bolt of lightning liquid
     chill

you cower and crave me in synchrony

     resisting the weight of
     my current
    
     strengthening in the
     isometry of our
     acquaintance.

I am afraid to be exposed, but here it is right on the page. The exercise Woolridge offers is to listen to myself, by answering a list of questions with the first word that comes to mind. After all the words and questions answered, the poem that emerges is not really about me at all but myself in relationship to something or someone. This is where it is easy for me, to see myself in light of other people. But these words are my ticket to go deeper and keep writing...who is just me?

In another section of the book, the exercise is to write about "where do you come from".  I am left-handed so I decided to write using my right hand (another suggestion from the book)and these words emerged:

"i come from a land that is foreign to my soul, chaos erupting
from rage overflowed my half-filled cup like a cheap soda from a shook up can. what should have been a satisfying delight a sip of sweet fizzle was instead an ambush of sticky liquid and uncontainable foam. and the responsibility to clean it all up.  my soul was made of gossamer, at least it started out that way.  over time and exposure the silken threads hardened and wore away until they resembled more of a potato sack burlap. itchy and porous and dull to the senses."

Maybe my shadow is awaiting in my right hand?  I am not sure who she is but I will listening more to what she has to say.  Her voice, though unfamiliar to me, is sure of what she knows to be true. 

artist's date: soho walk

I love to walk SoHo streets and soak in the urban artwork: random postings and graffiti that slap themselves irreverently across walls, poles, doors and windows, entertaining me, the slowly passer-by. After some uptown morning business last Saturday I drove downtown and parked...and walked... 

peering into holes in a fence;

gifting my sight with the texture of inconsistent order;

 

 

receiving a reminder for my frequent rumination...

 



on my way to lunch at a cafe I've never been to before.  I paused on the street to read the menu and the server who was standing outside smoking his cigarette told me that this was where I needed to eat.  Not long after speaking my order, the waitress places my garden salad on the chrome-topped table in front of me and as I take a slow, deep breath I can smell the sweet aroma of the cucumber quarters.  They taste like spring that is hoofing at the gate in our atmosphere (sun shining brightly but air too chilly to let it break through).  My coffee mug has a faint lipstick stain on the rim but today I am bold and  unfussy so I just wipe it away and turn the mug around. A Coldplay tune is on the radio overhead and now the waitress is sitting at a table perpendicular to mine with a basket of silverware and a pile of fresh white paper napkins  expertly wrapping the place settings while she awaits the completion of the next brunch order on the line. I bask in the light filtered from the skylight above and look at each object edge illuminated:  frosted plastic water tumbler, stainless steel fork and knife, green glass water bottle, the stainless caps to the salt and pepper shakers.  I turn my head millimeter by millimeter to the left and to the right and invite the refractions to feed my brain with their dimension. A sulky kid from across the room wonders what it is I am seeing and if he can see some too.

It's time to walk again and this I see and my heart screams YES.  I am laughing after I take this shot because a sweaty boy ran so fast right in front of me as I was focusing that he did miss being in the picture but startled me so I flailed on my feet.  Another man on the curb saw me jump and we laughed at how stupid people can be(me or him?) and he stooped to pick up my lens cap when it popped off and clankled on the sidewalk.

I saw him later walking down the sidewalk across another street.
 

And this, the last message of the day.  In my brain, after poked is giggled...and this giggle is what I have been lacking for many months. This word giggle has shown up in a few pieces recently and I know it is my spirit demanding that my mind lighten up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

artist's date: admit one

I took my Artist's date to the floor of the Spare Oom in my house.  It is a smallish room that has continually transitioned over the last 10 years, but mostly ends up as a space for unwanted items or things that need to be packed away.  It's been clear for a few months now;  the floors are painted spicy chocolate brown, the walls giggle in coral buff pink.  The Spare Oom houses one oval  mirror, an almost-full-to-the-edges bookshelf and fabric waiting to be sewn into curtains.  I am in no rush to fill the room or even to name it, but love the space it contains for potential.  There are no bills or chores or obligations in this room and with the window open on this  sunny, chilly spring afternoon I can rest without boredom and escape with my ticket to a new journey.


"A ticket lets you in somewhere.  On one side of some tickets it even says,'Admit one.'  Like a poem, a ticket is small, often colorful and valuable, allowing entrance to a special place." Sarah Goldsmith Woolridge, poemcrazy

like worry that
dragoons me from rest
the spool of tickets taunts
from the floorboards
a marching army spiraling
toward me pressing for
a word adMIT one adMIT one
adMIT one fear adMIT
one hope adMIT one
love adMIT one joy
adMIT one more one more
one more until i submit
and spill it forth in
the light of day


As part of April's National Poetry Month, Tweetspeak (for more info click here)  is hosting a book club experience featuring poemcrazy by Susan G. Woolridge (for more information click here ). 

Good morning!  This is my first attempt at "Five-Minute Fridays" so I have to say that right now I am mostly just pre-occupied with taking the first step.

Rest...something I have learned a lot about this past year when my body just quit on me and I could barely stay awake for a few hours each day

Physical rest and learning how to listen to my body...there is a time to go and a time to stop

Sleeping is rest for the body but may not be rest for the mind or the soul

Resting in Him is the peace that comes before the answer to prayer is heard or the resolution to conflict is in sight...and that thought has stayed with me since a young woman in my high school Bible study spoke that truth as part of her testimony

Resting in Him is grieving in hope and knowing it is okay to feel

Resting in Him is having people around to share those tears and to help carry a burden that only the heart can see

Resting is the experience of knowing how great and good God is when nothing before you (or behind you) feels anything close to great or good.

Linking today with Lisa-Jo and others at:

unhidden

let my heart

be unlocked

and what is hiding

(what is hidden)

set free

 

*inspired by Psalm 139:23

taste and see

Still loving my marigolds!!

Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good;
Blessed is the man who trusts in Him!

Psalm 34:8

 

Linking today with