Illness of the Mind #shortstory #mentalillness
“mental illness” the doctor said shaking his head noisily.
i was still young and wondered if something was rattling in his head.
after all she sounded more logical than he did and her head certainly did not rattle when she shook it.
but “that” would explain the voices she heard in the middle of the night.
“she must be sedated. she must be contained. … put in a place for her safety.”
“quiet!!!” I said to my head that was starting to rattle.
“for the time being she is safe, she will be under my care” I stated emphatically amidst the frowns and rattlings.
in time she removed herself from society and whatever cacophony of sound there had been was relieved by the sound of the birds and the animals that sought the peace in her gardens.
one day I removed myself to the gardens for some clean air and thought.
“they have been poisoning you for years” she said without nary a comment on my part
“how did you know?” I had known for some time myself.
“i can smell it and the voices told me.”
“breathe the air here and in time your head will cease to rattle.
in three months I was clear
i fed the creatures from my hand during my hiatus
the voices started going away
when I returned I found it
well actually them:
an inconspicuous bottle with an ancient name written in Latin
at her house i read the book that had told me about a poison used on a fictional character using this same substance
and the book titled “ convince them they are mad ”
i got a call from my husband’s doctor “time for your annual checkup”
i knew if I stopped hearing the voices telling me to flee i would be out of my mind
Just For You… #poetry #napomo
Though you wont know
these words are penned
typed rather slow
with thoughts of you
Im on the moon
you ~ terra’s ground
looking down
with thoughts of you
working school or sick
wish I could pick
a tea cozy spot
with thoughts of you
can never replace
the warm embrace
since you were young
with thoughts of you
hold on tight
from the monsters of the night
I can’t be there
but I have always
thoughts of you
The Rose / The Way #Easter #love #poetry
You drip beauty in our lives
shielding us from death’s pain
many your soft petals despise
You drip beauty in our lives
poured out with no guise
blood gives you a name
you drip beauty in our lives
you never once looked at me in blame
***
~The Way~
Jesus look the cup of poison from our hands
out of love the perfect sacrifice bore our sins
a man of suffering acquinted with grief
He is the salve
The salvation
the Way
“He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness;by his wounds you have been healed.”
1 Peter 2:24
Curious that by one tree we were hurled into a life of sin and through another a savior was broken that we could be set free…
~Be free in the peace of the Lord Jesus Christ~
Photography: “Peace’s Rose ” “Copyright L. Moon 2010
The Poet Speaks… #poetry
There is a poet
who I’d tip my hat
but we live in this era
so that is that
***
where all we swallow
is political fire
his daily words
they do inspire
**
He paints and draws
his readers in
a subtle point
that speaks within
**
Don’t ever miss
the meaning penned
nothing poison
lies within
***
for poets have
a way you know
to touch the heart
and make it grow
I have a few friends who have profoundly influenced my writing. Charles Martin is such a man whose words speak volumes to those willing to listen. Thanks to the bold voice of poets today!
The End of Joy #poetry
Ohhh joy filled bubble
having popped too soon
prismed color exploding
absent is beauty and ceremony
no ooos or ahhs
no longer floating on a warm breeze
a colorless
feelingless
vapor of nothing
now that you are gone
The challenge at Poetry Jam at http://poetryjaam.blogspot.com/( so how do you feel?) was to explain a feeling using something tangible. Remember for a moment when in your glee you had created the roundest, most colorful buoyant shape with just a blow of air from your lips? The joy could not be contained. It is understandable why the moment of pure joy is a tremendous loss when the creation pops at the height of its moment of beauty.
Watching Time #poetry
They wont move while you watch
my mind wills the hands around your face
tick tick I can’t wait
open the glass face and let me in
move now move quick
my life is in your perfect sphere
midnight… one… two… three…
dawn rises beautifully clear
as you pull me close to thee
forever
… More than a bad dream #centussat #halloween
Cannot feel
no air to breathe
closed in on all sides
no one whispering “it will be alright”
this darkness more than a bad dream
Thanks to Jenny Matlock for this challenge she gave us all black and 25 words to give you a jump!!! Don’t look behind you!!!
An Apple Era at an end
How can society not applaud a man like Steve Jobs? A trend setter, visionary, entrepreneur, humanitarian are just a few of the many hats he has worn. Living in Silicon Valley, some close friends were Apple employees. Twenty years ago I co-founded a non-profit, Apple allowed my friends as employees to donate their computers so that we could run more effectively and help the poor in our county. I wonder if Jobs knew how many people he unknowingly assisted over the years. Some of you know, others may not, that when the iPad came on the market it was made avaialble to special needs children at no cost; these kids thrive on the technology available to them; who knows what their minds will conjure up for the future.
Several years ago Jobs gave a speech to the graduating class at Stanford University - “How to Live Before You Die”. Jobs reflects on starting Apple in a garage,losing his position at Apple and starting NEXT and then Pixar; he communicated that they should “find what you love” “do what you believe is a great work.” “No one wants to die but we all share that destination.” Jobs with a diagnosis of pancreatic cancer didn’t live the decades he would have liked but he did have more than 6 years, after the diagnosis, no can doubt they were rich and generous years.
His advice to those Seniors, and I believe to all of us, was “Stay Hungry Stay Foolish” “Love What You Do …your time is limited.” Thank You Steve Jobs for your great contribution to our world!!!!
What you won’t hear on Twitter or read on…
Today we heard the big news that Steve Jobs retired. We read conjecture was it health was the stress killing him???
Steve Jobs has done much for our world; I met his wife at an Alumnae function I am proud that they take world events seriously.
Today also in a womans shleter in the south of no one knows where a very talented woman ( an artist, a writer, a poet) is waiting out her stay a a womens shelter. Months ago when I spoke to her she was struggling but had just published a book; her little girl was growing. Her little girl – the joy of her existence has no place to call home, no bed to lay her head after tomorrow. This woman is not an abuser of the welfare system, she’s not strung out on Cocaine she is strung out on hopelessness.
What can we as humans do ~ For people are coming to the end of their rope with nothing or nowhere.
We have a vast communication infrastructure where you will read this in moments but no way to help a young mother and her small child – In this case society has failed !!!!
This #poem “What can I do?” wp.me/pDORj-24N spells out the feeling there are many of us who have just lost our jobs who will be in this situation soon.
The Turkish Chef #poetry #cuisine
That sexy smile
pulling me
willingly toward
secrets keys
to his past
*
Those deep onyx eyes
searching
for beauty
on distant shores
*
perfect hands
sifting
glass like
pieces of sand
silently
*
Word weaver
luring my senses
toward ancient
conquests
harems and moonlit nights
*
Turkish connoisseur
conjuring perfection
Flavors between our lips
Spice filled delights
Savoring each bite
wish you could have met this handsome man – a Turk whose art form is fulfilled in the kitchen. Stories woven as we tasted and sipped…
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No Boats in Your Milk
“Honey what are you doing with your breakfast?”
“Remember the story all the kings horses and all the kings men?
They couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty together again.
I felt so sorry for him that I couldn’t eat him.”
“hmm that must be the 100th excuse you have made for not eating breakfast this morning? Ok I give in I have one more stashed box of Captain Crunch. But no boats in your milk.”
This is part of a picture prompt for Centus Saturday hosted by the delightful Jenny Matlock
… And You!!! #Flashfiction
… and with them
last vestige of hope
swept away in the current
a stormy existence
**
That life boat
in the haze
called to me
it’s unattainable
***
… and so
I live
caught in the current
below the waves
***
one hope
the end will come soon
for what is there
to give me breath
***
thank you for …
a momentary ray
happiness
on that little boat
***
…and you must
stay afloat
for others
need hope
… and you!!!
Each Friday is awesome – many writers and bloggers get together and write a story in a mere 55 words. This piece is a little more prose and symbolic in nature. Thank you to G-Man for hosting weekly!
Thanks Mike for this awesome shot off Morro Bay…http://www.flickr.com/photos/mikebaird/3016985275/
What Don’t They Support?
I’m part of a thirty day writing prompt called #Trust30
Todays Prompt: The world is powered by passionate people, powerful ideas, and fearless action. What’s one strong belief you possess that isn’t shared by your closest friends or family? What inspires this belief, and what have you done to actively live it?
I grew up in a household with a family member who had severe Cerebral Palsy. I never looked at her as different; a wheelchair was as normal as my being left handed. Well I guess being left-handed had it’s own cultural stigma. I noticed when people stared at us; I never understood why they gawked at us until I got older. As I grew older, I became an advocate for children who were a few years younger than myself. I beat up a couple bullies in grammar school who picked on special needs kids. To me it never made sense. Why do the strong attack those unlike themselves? I still am an advocate for those who often need a voice and have none. I am aghast when people look for a pile of sand to hide their head in as if looking the other way or not addressing the issue makes it go away. Are we not an intelligent society that has made great strides to educate and close the gap? Believe what you want but there are still many biases against the special needs community ( I see them every day). The sand pile is full of heads I assure you!!!
It is easy in the world to live after the world’s opinion; it is easy in solitude to live after our own; but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude. - Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance
The Clock Stopped Ticking #shortstory #trust30
We are afraid of truth,
afraid of fortune,
afraid of death,
and afraid of each other.
Our age yields no great
and perfect persons.
– Ralph Waldo Emerson
“Yes I understand” I said as I wiped a tear from my eyes. It was the worst thing I had imagined. Fast paced cancer that would consume my body in…
“What do I do first?” I scream at the unsympathetic walls. No response.
I sit down and do the only thing I know how to do write. My husband first; this letter is surprisingly easy for he can read between every line. He has read this scenario and has heard my fears. That’s done.
Next – My eldest he is all that is good about me. He is talented and will take his art further for he is brave. His mind goes beyond the galaxies and probes the mind. “What do I say to him? This is for you,” as I tuck the book of stories that were written for him and about him. My book will never a best seller but he will be. “I love you my dearest son goodbye for now.”
“How can I say goodbye to you? You are my best friend. With you I have travelled the globe. We should have been twins not mother and daughter. Here are the tickets and the airmiles I saved for all our future trips. Go – I will be there.”
“Little one: of all of them you need me the most. You have since you were born. You must let go now. Please be strong for both of us. I am in every note you play. Every duet you sing hear my voice combined with yours – forever.”
“Goodbye to you. I love you more than life itself. I breathe my last breath with a kiss of love and thanks to you with love from my soul.”
and with that last drop of ink …
Here is the prompt:
You just discovered you have fifteen minutes to live.
1. Set a timer for fifteen minutes.
2. Write the story that has to be written.
Shattered #flashfiction
Fluidity v softmotion
our worlds ~converge
some call it love
commitment
us
V
intertwined
united
undulating
as one
*
*
why
pushing away
small
sharp
ascerbic
words
crashing
against
my heart
listen
hear
cracking
begin
one line
becomes
another
ugly
ripple
sound
crashing
existence
until there is
nothing
toput
back
to
g
e
t
h
e
r
!
!
V
It’s another week for Flash Fiction on Friday in exactly 55 words with G-Man. The smashing host from coast to coast.
Thanks to Steve Jurvetson http://www.flickr.com/photos/jurvetson/80023028
&
Celestial Love by Ralph Waldo Emerson #worldpoetryday
Celestial Love
(Part of Ode I: Initial Love and Ode II: Dæmonic Love and Celestial Love)
Higher far,
Upward, into the pure realm,
Over sun or star,
Over the flickering Dæmon film,
Thou must mount for love,—
Into vision which all form
In one only form dissolves;
In a region where the wheel,
On which all beings ride,
Visibly revolves;
Where the starred eternal worm
Girds the world with bound and term;
Where unlike things are like,
When good and ill,
And joy and moan,
Melt into one.
There Past, Present, Future, shoot
Triple blossoms from one root
Substances at base divided
In their summits are united,
There the holy Essence rolls,
One through separated souls,
And the sunny Æon sleeps
Folding nature in its deeps,
And every fair and every good
Known in part or known impure
To men below,
In their archetypes endure.The race of gods,
Or those we erring own,
Are shadows flitting up and down
In the still abodes.
The circles of that sea are laws,
Which publish and which hide the Cause.
Pray for a beam
Out of that sphere
Thee to guide and to redeem.
O what a load
Of care and toil
By lying Use bestowed,
From his shoulders falls, who sees
The true astronomy,
The period of peace!
Counsel which the ages kept,
Shall the well-born soul accept.
As the overhanging trees
Fill the lake with images,
As garment draws the garment’s hem
Men their fortunes bring with them;
By right or wrong,
Lands and goods go to the strong;
Property will brutely draw
Still to the proprietor,
Silver to silver creep and wind,
And kind to kind,
Nor less the eternal poles
Of tendency distribute souls.
There need no vows to bind
Whom not each other seek but find.
They give and take no pledge or oath,
Nature is the bond of both.
No prayer persuades, no flattery fawns,
Their noble meanings are their pawns.
Plain and cold is their address,
Power have they for tenderness,
And so thoroughly is known
Each others’ purpose by his own,
They can parley without meeting,
Need is none of forms of greeting,
They can well communicate
In their innermost estate;
When each the other shall avoid,
Shall each by each be most enjoyed.
Not with scarfs or perfumed gloves
Do these celebrate their loves,
Not by jewels, feasts, and savors,
Not by ribbons or by favors,
But by the sun-spark on the sea,
And the cloud-shadow on the lea,
The soothing lapse of morn to mirk,
And the cheerful round of work.
Their cords of love so public are,
They intertwine the farthest star.
The throbbing sea, the quaking earth,
Yield sympathy and signs of mirth;
Is none so high, so mean is none,
But feels and seals this union.
Even the tell Furies are appeased,
The good applaud, the lost are eased.Love’s hearts are faithful, but not fond,
Bound for the just, but not beyond;
Not glad, as the low-loving herd,
Of self in others still preferred,
But they have heartily designed
The benefit of broad mankind.
And they serve men austerely,
After their own genius, clearly,
Without a false humility;
For this is love’s nobility,
Not to scatter bread and gold,
Goods and raiment bought and sold,
But to hold fast his simple sense,
And speak the speech of innocence,
And with hand, and body, and blood,
To make his bosom-counsel good:
For he that feeds men, serveth few,
He serves all, who dares be true.I cut my teeth on Emerson. The last stanza of this poem is not only my favorite but hopefully a creed I live by.
You Belong in Wonder full
I am dedicating this poem to Diana a beautiful and talented woman who i appreciate and who inspired this poem. Also dedicated to little girls all over the world who make it even though the world is a hard place.
Born to a life
so wrought with pain
none of your doing
Daddy took his life
unable to face another rain
***
Mommy was floating
on the top of her drink
sorrow pulled her down
like her olive
nothing left but to sink
***
Natalia you swam
against the tide
so smart
full of hope
striving to be more alive
***
What they could never attain
dear girl from another land
you took on bravely
soared like an eagle
now come take my hand
***
I will show you places
feel the universe pull
play with the stars
you belong
in Wonder full
A bit of background: I have been all over the world holding events for children. I am always drawn to the little girls whose lives are a mirror image of my own. The little girl I write about is Ukrainian whose daddy took his life. The small girl grew up in bars until one day her mother was thrown into prison. The woman who is raising her is a babushka ( a grandmother) raising a child with energy in body and in spirit. I am inspired by these survivors who never give up. They deserve Wonderful!!!
Golf at its best #microfiction
Fairy dust please do the trick.
The best in golf I have to lick.
…and my putter god is AWOL
Many Thanks to the Susan the fairy of Microfiction Monday. she waves her hand and things happen in 140 characters.
If tonight … (#oneshotwednesday)
If tonight…
was to be my last breath
what would that last breath do?
I would pull down the stars
hand them over to you
***
If tonight…
was to be my last breath
I would with my lips
blow our names in the dust
held together with a kiss
***
If tonight…
was to be my last breath
let me see
I would cast all my love
to the outer banks of the sea
***
If tonight…
was to be my last breath
I would pull you nose to nose
whisper “hold me tight
until my eyes for the last time close”
It another day for One Shot Wednesday. Join us as we share and read the remarkable work of fellow poets.
Photo attributed to LSI Photography
Let It Snow (revised #Lyrics) sung originally by Bing Crosby
Photo thanks to Jon Candyhttp://www.flickr.com/photos/joncandy/5268534783/
Oh The weather outside is frightful
that’s not what the weather man promised
but the fire is so delightful
yes sparks are flying tonight
and since we’ve no place to go
Walmart’s having a sale
Let it snow, Let it snow, Let it snow
the song writers apparently had a snowplow
*
It doesn’t show signs of stopping
This snow is getting on my nerves
and I brought some corn for popping
can you go back for ice cream?
The lights are turned way down low
sparks are definitely flying
Let it snow, Let it snow, Let it snow
It’s going to be a chore digging out
*
when we finally kiss goodnight
you can tell this was written in the 40s
how I’ll hate going out in the storm
blame the lyricist not me
but if you really hold me tight
isn’t that what we’ve been doing?
all the way home I’ll be warm
your car does have heat
*
The fire is slowly dying
Finally the end to the song is near
and my dear were still good-bying
you CAN text when you get home
but as long as you love me so
at least until the guy at Walmart is available
Let it snow,Let it snow, Let it snow
Enough of the snow already!!!
*
The song “Let it Snow” was a popular song in the late 40s and 50s; Bing Crosby sang a rendition with his fantastic voice. I thought I’d spice up the feeling a bit. Below are the original lyrics.
Let It Snow : Lyrics
Oh the weather outside is frightful,
But the fire is so delightful,
And since we’ve no place to go,
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!
It doesn’t show signs of stopping,
And I’ve bought some corn for popping,
The lights are turned way down low,
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!
When we finally kiss goodnight,
How I’ll hate going out in the storm!
But if you’ll really hold me tight,
All the way home I’ll be warm.
The fire is slowly dying,
And, my dear, we’re still good-bying,
But as long as you love me so,
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!
Many more festive poems on One Stop Poetry
And I’ve bought some corn for popping,
The lights are turned way down low,
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!
How I’ll hate going out in the storm!
But if you’ll really hold me tight,
All the way home I’ll be warm.
And, my dear, we’re still good-bying,
But as long as you love me so,
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!
| The wonderful Christmas song Let It Snow was created by lyricist Sammy Cahn and the composer Jule Styne in 1945. The words and lyrics of Let It Snow reflect the feeling of warmth and security associated with Christmas and also brings in the more modern customs of popping corn! The song Let It Snow was reprised in recent years when used in the Bruce Willis film Die Hard which started with the film’s hero travelling to meet his family at Christmas. |
Dreams and chocolate #poetry
Riding a dream
looked and sounded so good
chocolate flavored clouds
on the points of stars I stood
***
Refused to wake up
to dull and more gray
pushed the reality of life
fervently away
***
Imagining a life
with flavors
beauty and love
kept my sites strictly
focused above
***
star-dust and moon glows
knights on their steeds
my bountiful dreams
gave me all I could need
**
Forced to open one eye
then another
to behold boots, hat,and rope
blue eyes -oh brother
***
Walking confident
taller than any man
I gazed and I gaped
at his leathery hands
***
Looking at me
was all I could hope
then he talked in his drawl
and swung that stiff rope
***
Smelling I suddenly
found was so real
leather and Chaps
thrown in with the deal
***
dreaming is fine
for all of you
but I’ve found
what I needed
and chocolate too
Heart in the Sand (#short story)
Each day I came to the same place – the bay. The bay, her bay, was in the shape of a crescent. The first seamen had named it Half Moon Bay. I always smiled as I pestered my favorite man while looking out to the sea; the place we both loved the best. I would sit on the lap of my grizzled grandfather and beg him for a story. He had been a sailor here and had lots of stories to tell. His favorite, and mine, was a fairytale for sailors.
She had moved from Boston to the bay to paint. She was a beauty so the sailors say. Her hair was long, the color of copper. In the sunlight, her hair reflected fire – a fire some said burned in her heart. She was a solitary individual with no friends; she seemed to carry a burden from the past. The fishwives waggled their tongues telling whoppers of her entertaining men when no one saw. Yet, she walked alone with her easel and paints to the water’s edge each day.
One day a stranger came to the bay. He was looking for work. He had worked on crabbing boats and knew the sea. He walked to the edge of the bay singing a sailor’s tune; he was a fine baritone they say. He saw the coppery flame first. By the time her face turned to reveal her profile he was in a trance. “Her porcelain skin needs to be caressed,” he wanted to cry from the highest mast. When their lips met for the first time; the rain ceased and a rainbow bathed the bay in radiant color. They were never apart except when he was out on a boat. Then it happened, a nor’easter unusual for those parts. It tore of roofs of several homes. Only a piece of rigging from his boat washed ashore. Her vigil, to the last of her days, was to go to their beach, collect shells. Sometimes their little boy went with her. Each day she drew a heart with his name in it, wishing that somehow the sea would convey a message to the one she loved. The day she died a rainbow bathed the bay in radiant reds and blues.
Each time I recalled the story, a tear came to my eye. We had quarrelled; he had left on a ship. I didn’t mean what I had said. I drew a heart in the same spot, in the sand, with our names knowing somehow he would know that I loved him.
Thanks to SIS for the photo prompt. you can read more from this prompt here.
Too Much to Dream For
I seek you
like a drug
an escape
from now
***
A Pipe dream
get-lost in space
never- in touch
fantasy in my head
***
they all
offer
a haven
an escape
***
Reality
too harsh
life
icy cold
***
my dreams
fresh
warm
safe
***
pastoral
magical
dreamy
***
don’t make me
wake
up
***
there is too much
to dream
for
Head of the Class (micro fiction)
They told me it would be fun
that I would be the head liner
a head turner
the head of my class
I wasn’t expecting it to end like this….
Susan is a class act. Each week she hosts micro fiction monday over at stony river. Check out the great micro fiction and join in.
