Showing posts from April, 2015

1,000 to 1 On Me

There is always a chance that it will all fall apart. That everything you worked hard for, that everything you desired, that everything you believe in will crumble before your eyes and disintegrate flying into the cruel winds scattering the remants of all your hopes and dreams far, far from you.
There's also a chance that it WILL work out. But you will not know the outcome until you take a chance, that risk, that gamble with your life.
We only get one shot at this rodeo.
While we are here on this earth we will notice the yearning and desire spark in our souls. We will feel it attempt to grow, attempt to guide us to what and who will make us happy. It is up to us whether we we fan the flames and allow it to warm us from the inside out or if we choose to smother and extinguish the hope of following our dreams.
In life, there are going to be moments we are wildly, ridiculously unhappy. That simple weak spark is going to whisper to us that we need to make a choice. It is going to nud…

It's A Good Day

It is too nice of a day to have the house all shut up. The windows and front door are open, welcoming the whipping winds inside to help us air out the winter blahs that held us captive for too long. My mom is in the kitchen peeling, cutting, creating a dinner I am sure I will eat too much of. I would offer to help but she would just kick me out, again.Today is a good day.I am the ever annoying optimist. I wish I was not at times as it seems to annoy my friends and family. When I am nice to a frazzled and distracted waitress, when I lend the benefit of the doubt to someone who was supposed to have their work done two days ago, when I do not call people on their bullshit-at least not publicly-I can visibly see and hear my loved ones take the deepest of disgusted sighs. In the past, I have been accused of being a dream pusher. I gladly accept that title and that I am a cheerleader.  I sincerely believe you can do what you want to do. I believe if you put your energy, time and hard work i…

National Poetry Month: Day 17

Determined soul.
Furiously needing to fly.
Pumping quickly.Launching forward.
Flying fearlessly through the playground.
Proudly soaring.Floating downwards.
Sticking the landing, brave arms outstretched.
Greeting the day.I combined the prompts from the NaPoWriMo website which was to create a modified haiku with a 4-9-4 rhythm instead of 5-7-5 and the Writer's Digest prompt which was to write a poem about a 'swing'.

National Poetry Month: Day 16

Manipulation was satiation.
Your insecurity fed my wounded soul.
I knew I could control you, with the easiest words.

And I did.

Entertaining our feelings, 
yours more so than mine
was just another game.

Another winner-less game.

Sorry does no justification.

You were earnest, 
with your love,
with your heart, 
with your inexperience, 
with your shortcomings.

I allowed you in, 
and you loved me for my flaws.
My hatred.
My deceitfulness.
My misinterpretation of love.

You accepted, loved, and
tried to overcome the demons
that lingered in my head.

You accepted me as the broken vessel I was. 
Never questioning it, 
never probing into the past that made me the 
passive aggressive over compensating witch that I was.

You always told me I was worth more than 
I could give myself credit for.
I wasn’t. 

So easily I broke, you time and time again. 
Used you like a tool. 

Not for your money. Not for your means. Not even for sex.

I was worse. 

I took your emotions and substituted them into my life.
It felt like I was loved.
And t…

National Poetry Month: Day 15

Contempt, is the river moon.

Hiding behind the shadows of the gods,
although not deliberate, still they
obscure his love.

Whilst not being allowed to play,
the banjos produce a cacophony with the cicadas.

He waits
and hides.
His time is precious,
he does not get to spend every night immersed
in the natural seduction of these southern surroundings.

He peeks and stretches
through the clouds,
trying to hear his friends.

Nature calls out to him
the hoots of the owls,
alert and searching for their prey.

The river rustling gently,
never stopping,
constantly rushing against the stones,
caressing the soft silhouette of the embankments.

Branches swaying in the warm, slightly windy summer nights.

Usually the ground is aglow with the moons' blessing,
shadowing the small ones and  illuminating the proud
tenacity of the night.

However the moon has lost its battle tonight.

He does not get to come and play with his earth.

The clouds have decided he has spent his time stipend
with the earth, and he will wai…

National Poetry Month: Day 14

Clothed in the warmth of the sun, lying on the couch, you rest from playing so hard.
You roll, with no prompting, your goofy tongue barely jutting beyond your teeth.
Brown smiling eyes watching me, betting that I will reach over and scratch your belly. Or ears. Or head.
I wonder what you think of, while relaxed, while reclined, I wonder if you wonder about me.
If you wonder where I go all day?
Do you wonder why we wear clothes, why we beg you to stop licking your balls, why we yell and fight over dumb things?
When you have the blissful air of outside supporting your little legs urging us forward on a long walk, are you telling us to find joy on our journey?
When you dance and yip for your snack are you telling us to enjoy our treats?
When you find sick pleasure in smelling and rolling in any and every dead carcass you find, are you trying to tell us to enjoy life because it is too short?
Or are you just living life with  bipedal slaves enjoying the way we cater to your every whim?

Blog With Friends: The Earth Day Brigade

On this lovely Tuesday in April, I have decided to be brave and join some talented, creative, crafty bloggers and take up a wonderful cause and join The Earth Day Brigade! This month's Blog With Friends Theme is Earth Day and I daresay you are in for a treat when you see what my fellow bloggers and I whipped up for you to read, try and taste! When deciding to jump in this month, the only thing that jumped to the forefront of this goofy little brain of mine was food. We all need it, we all have our love/hate relationships with it, and we all spend too much money on it and perhaps do not utilize it the way we should. Growing up, we had to make our food streeeetch as much as we could due to limited income. For a while in my older but not wiser years, I abandoned my common sense and logical upbringing and started to become wasteful by buying a water bottle every time I was thirsty, by throwing away leftovers, going out to eat too much, and being too picky or too lazy to find creative wa…

National Poetry Month: Day 13


National Poetry Month: Day 12

Low hanging, hazy smoke clouds and neon lights are the perfect mask for desperation.They pair well with the facade of a good time, mingling with hope and tingling nerves with opportunities.Promises of one in a million shots and life changing testaments lure them in.Hideous busy carpets, creative charms and rituals guide them to their destination, their chance to reverse their luck.Mojo, juju, vibes, talismans, get them drunk with a silly sense they can control these machines, these games, their fate and fortunes.Hope and determination block out distractions and common sense.They sit. They hope. They pull. They lose. They sit. They hope. They pull. They lose.They sit. They hope. They pull. They lose.Right when they are about to abandon their post, right when their sobriety kicks in, a ringing of bells, a flashing of lights, squeals of delight and murmuring of big winnings quickly makes it to to their ears.They cannot leave yet.That could be them.So they sit. They pull. They hope.

My Addiction, Not My Excuse

Manchego. Cotswold. Gouda. Roquefort. Harvati. Mozzarella. Feta.  Pepperjack. Parmesan...I can keep going, those are all somehow my favorite. Just before I pop a bite of one of those lovelies in my mouth, my body reacts in ways I cannot truly comprehend. My pulse speeds up, my focus hones in, my mouth salivates and then I bite and am satiated. For a moment or two at least.I love cheese, all kinds. I like it nutty, creamy, soft, stinky, crumbly, flaky smooth, firm, aged...and before I embarrass myself further by showing you I obviously like it all-in any and every way possible I'll stop as I think you get the point.The problem is, I enjoy all types, paired with everything, and have a hard time with moderation.Like all food for me, cheese is not just a treat or a splurge, it is a task, a contemplation, a tease, a decision. It is a battle of the wills. I am thirty freaking years old and still have a hard time comprehending one portion size. I indulge too much, too frequently, and to …

Love In Ten Lines

Hello and happy Saturday!
April is National Poetry Month and a wonderful opportunity for those of us who fancy ourselves as poets to take up the challenge to create a poem a day. Though I love writing poetry, I won't lie, I have found it hard this month-but it's already day we're a third of the way there!
Today, the lovely Jeanine from jsack1's blognominated me to create a love poem. Well, hello sweet woman complimenting my soul-I seriously appreciate it! It is extremely appreciated as she is quite a dedicated writer and I value her opinion. I could not pinpoint a genre for Jeanine as she is a jill-of-all-trades. She can uplift your spirits with beautiful poetry, she can take a random prompt and make it her bitch, she shares about her life, her children, her experiences and has a gentle strength and beauty that shines through her writing.
On to the rules yes?
The rules are as follows:
•Write about love using only 10 lines. •Use the word love in every l…

Use Your Words: April 10th, 2015

Hello and happiest Friday to you dear reader! Today’s post is a writing challenge hosted by the wonderful Karen from Baking In A Tornado.  This is how it works: participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once and all the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knows who got their words and in what direction the writer will take them. Until now. The words I am using are:  Razzles ~ cell phone ~ Happy Meal ~ gab ~ wings They were submitted by: you Stacy!! At the end of this post you’ll find links to the other blogs featuring this challenge. Check them all out, see what words these amazing bloggers got and how they creatively crafted them.
These words instantly took me back to a time when things were seemingly simpler. A time where I could not wait to grow up an…

National Poetry Month: Day 9

When I was younger, I went to a revival during Lent.I don't remember much except the church that was full on Saturday and Sunday had meager offerings of parishioners that awkward weeknight.The pulse of the pulpit was palpable that night.People shook, jumped and chomped at the bit to savor the salvation that was dangled in front of their starving souls.We walked in two lines amidst  guttural hymns. Hypnotic hymns my ears had never heard before but that my lips parted to sing.One by one, we approached the altar. No priest, no gospel, just us worshiping one another.Acknowledging that we were here in God's house. That we were both God and human. We were alive. We were here to serve and survive this night, this world, this life.We shuffled, sweat dripping, redemption teetering, hands shaking, to the chairs up front.It was simple.But it wasn't.The man in front of me sat in the chair facing me. I knelt, as I watched the others in front me do, and removed his shoes and socks.I pee…

National Poetry Month : Day 8

causing concern casually.Defending every
feared featured felon.Gaining haunted insights intact innocuously.Judiciously kind,
lamenting lost loves.Mitigating nonexistent
omnipotent obnoxious oppressors.Praying quite rationally,
reading ravenously.Solemnly, taken up.Unfortunately unforgiven.Very worried.Xeroxed.Yet,you yearned youthfully yesterday yelling:Zippi-di-do-dah!

National Poetry Day: Day 7


National Poetry Month: Poetry 6

In that twilight between darkness and the dawn of the day, I stir feeling your presence trying not to wake me.Stretching against the silk sheets, my hands search for yours, wanting to feel you, to find you, to say our good morning.The birds sing their song, bracing us that light will soon break.While I dream, you work through the night. Tired eyes and determination keep you going. When I wake, you are ready to lie your head down and slumber while the ungodly sun attempts to pry your eyes open with its persistence.So I reach for your rough hand, needing to hold it in my own for these moments we are allowed each other. Needing to feel your sinew stretch,
needing to listen to your heavy heady exhale while I stroke up your arm, needing to just bask in the darkness that is both our dusk and the dawn of our days.Good morning my love, I mumble.Good night my friend, you sigh.And we begin our dance of squaring up our nights and embracing our days.

National Poetry Month: Poem 5

The murky, blue of his eyes lured me  in.  They were different than the crystal clear transparency I was used to. Urging me to wade in the seemingly calm waters, only to feel the intense pull of the raging river. His pale and freckled hands, quietly steady me, promising me the scary, surprising ride down these rapids would be worth it.The creeping blush coloring and flushing his cheeks, lets me know this is the first time he has gone through with this ride, this adventure.He is no expert.Ironically, that calms me and I am ready to see where this ride will take me.

Stealing From Yourself

Staring at the reflection in the spotted mirror, she sees a face too fat, too pale, too bumpy. It is not smooth or pretty like the girls she sees on television or magazines. Picking apart and comparing every feature on her real face to photoshopped perfection, ignoring the beauty that is there is a habit she has fallen prey to daily.She may know there is an industry built to tear apart imperfections, feed on fears of inadequacy and sell only one version of beauty to the masses. But it does not matter if she knows that or not, it matters if she believes others are better than her simply because they have a golden tan, plump lips, thin thighs or voluptuous breasts.It matters that she compares herself to others and limits her beauty to what the eyes can see.We blame feelings of inadequacy on moments being stolen from us. We cry theft that people steal our thunder, steal the stage, that they wear the same thing and look better.Giving away moments of happiness to compare yourself to an unr…