Wednesday, April 16, 2014

the voices in my head...



What's left to say about this crazy situation,
I don't know which way to turn.


The voice that needs safety and security
says stay with who you know,
he will be there for you.


The voice that needs love
says find it now, hold fast to it.


The third voice, the bad girl,
says what if you stay and stray,
can I lead a double life,
lie and cheat,
yet smile as I betray,
Selfish, self-destructive,
or a matter of survival, life.






Tuesday, April 15, 2014

keepin' it real....




My last poem, Enough, is all fact, no fiction, my life, laid bare, wide open.

It started as a riff from a recent read, Orphan Train, by Christina B. Kline, which is fiction based on fact.

Though my experience is different,
the basic theme of abandonment runs through both.

I know others who have been able to leave this behind,
But it remains an issue for me,
A thread throughout my life.

Am I good enough to keep,
if not, will you send me back to wherever...

Though there is no place to return me
nor anyone to take me

Which brings me full circle...





If anyone would like to comment or start a conversation about this, let me know.






Monday, April 14, 2014

Enough




Why I am left out,
tired of tales of happy reunions of families and friends,
the abandoned, finally accepted.


I have reached out to my birth mother, my half brother,
no response,
More recently, an old boyfriend,
to be met with deception, followed by silence.


Am I a creature whose presence leads to havoc and destruction,
Powerful, a fa├žade,
look more closely, I am lost and alone.


To lack an explanation, some reasoning, baffles me.
By nature, I search and piece together the story.
I chose these challenges,
not realizing that I sought those who did not want to be found.


I have a compulsion to say one more try, 
they'll understand,
to belong, to fit somewhere, a small niche,
no longer in the periphery.
Yes, this is my daughter, my sister, my old friend.


But it doesn't work that way,
it is more rejection, heartache.
Hitting walls of brick and stone,
dizzy as a losing boxer, against the ropes,
and no closer to a bit of truth.


It creates a void of pain,
The time has arrived to admit that I will not solve these puzzles,
I say enough.






photo by author
on the outside, looking in...







 

Saturday, April 12, 2014

kickin' it





A faded image from years ago,
long brown hair, glasses, nice smile,
intelligent, kinda shy, uncertain of herself,
not yet a woman.


It seems like yesterday and at the same time so long ago.
Not knowing her path,
how it would all turn out,
so many choices then,
the world wide open.



Fewer choices now, a narrow number of years left.
some options gone forever,
opportunities that can not be recovered.



There is some sadness, what might have been,
one decision to the next, moving her to where she is today.
But still learning,
open to new experiences,
fashion lover, stylist, photographer, blogger, writer, teacher.



Creating new neural connections,
info transmitted synapse to synapse,
who knew she had the potential,
She surprises herself sometimes
Still kickin' it.




 
 
photo by author courtesy of Jean-Paul Gaultier exhibition at Brooklyn Museum 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Friday, April 11, 2014

Bates Motel/Vacancy




His emotional state so vacant,
He hasn't noticed that she's been gone for weeks,
More and more time in her creative space.



But he hasn't been the focus,
Her thoughts and feelings elsewhere,
He has no capacity to read them,
As if in a foreign language,
he missed in high school.



Not sensing her vulnerability,
how easily she could fall for a touch, a word,
and lose herself in a careless moment.



Overcome, tumbling,
till she reaches a place rich in emotions, intimacy,
how cruel to tempt herself with such images.
Her reality so disparate.
Dizzy for a brief respite,
from the airless, blank walls that enclose her.






stand by me...

 

 

Yesterday I stood before a large group of students and faculty at a local high school,
and shared one of my poems with them,
Revealing more of myself than they know,
More than my husband knows.
 

I spoke of emotional vacancy,
My craving for affection and connection.
My courage resulted in validation, something I valued was valued by others.
Have I finally found my way, such a serpentine passage,
But I'm here.  I just need the rest of the world to recognize it.

intro to stand by me...



I should have posted this because it explains the circumstances of reading one of my poems in public for the first time.  It was scary and exhilarating.

It resulted in the posting of both stand by me...
and Bates Motel/Vacancy.

Hope this makes more sense now.

Judy

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

ave atque vale II




Damn this shadow, he refuses to depart
Haunting the periphery, a brief glimpse,
why is he here? what business undone?



Must she banish him from her mind, her creative spirit,
perhaps he wants to return to that small place in her heart
where he resided for so many years.



What's the purpose, 
a reminder of what might have been,
but has no chance in present day, regrets.
She struggles to understand his reluctance.



Or is it self-inflicted,
the inability to loosen her grip on a dream,
to own her part in his existence.



Yes, she must stand and face him
as the woman she has become
and say be gone,
She decides who deserves this precious real estate
and he no longer belongs.

ave atque vale...









photo by author



Sunday, April 6, 2014

the shadow...





How to say goodbye to a shadow given breath
through her writing and her memory,
part fact and part fiction.



His presence filled the room,
where she thinks, writes, draws, creates,
they talked, laughed, danced, kissed,
and separated in silence.



The poetry is edited, inked,
Yet she's conflicted over the parting words,
stay a while longer?
No, it's time for her to move on,
And it's time for him to leave,
As if she ever had him.










au revoir, mon ami....
                                                      photo courtesy of Polyvore





Thursday, April 3, 2014

Rebuff redux





How can she feel like she is 20 again,
waiting for his response
after so many years.



It's unsettling,
her expectations -
a conversation,
her apology,
listen to his side of this story,
the disconnect so rapid,
the end so abrupt,
without a word exchanged.


She may have to live with it
as it is.
For him, no reason to process
this event of long ago.


Over, done with, insignificant,
No memory
that would be the coldest cut,
no place within his heart.


Despite her resolve, the feelings of the past rush in,
it's wicked to experience this twice.


But that's the price for taking the chance,
hoping the odds in her favor,
no more excuses,
her ability to forgive sapped.



It's difficult to accept the silence
ringing in her ears, almost deafening,
With time, it will lessen.
the scar will heal again within her heart.


 
 



in the midst...


photo by author, courtesy of Jean-Paul Gaultier exhibition at Brooklyn Museum

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

exorcising demons...





Dear readers,

My blog has taken a poetic turn and I've been posting poems rather than pix.

I have some loose ends to tie up, but I'm getting there slowly. I didn't realize the depth of what I was getting into, but I know now.

So bear with me through a few more posts and I'll be back.  But remember that I am widening the scope of my blog and there will be more serious writing and lifestyle than previously.

I hope you'll stay with me through this.  Your support would be most appreciated.

Thanks.

Judy







 
through this serpentine window to the other side of light




Sunday, March 30, 2014

to avoid the (wo)man?



If you want to soar under the radar,
descend to 12,0000 feet and it will take weeks for teams of experts
to pinpoint a possible location.



So how long to find a man who doesn't want to be found,
but more intriguing, why?



Many reasons come to mind,
Her skills honed through many years with the court system,
searching for others who prefer anonymity,
their choices made to avoid "the man".




It piques her interest,
carefully scanning for a shred, a bit, a byte of info
to add to the puzzle she pieces together,
She'll find a way,
but she has no control over a response,
no magic, no spell to cast,
the rest is on him.








photo by author, courtesy of Jean-Paul Gaultier exhibition at Brooklyn Museum







Saturday, March 29, 2014

No or Godot?



Frozen again, hesitant to share her thoughts/feelings,

how many get a second chance?

It's too precious to pass,

to leave her with more regrets.








He rebuffed her once, she survived,

she's stronger now, able to cope,

not to say it wouldn't hurt,

but he will know she cared,

her inexperience to blame,

in Manspeak, she screwed the pooch and lost the guy.








She's hitting send, putting it out there, into the universe,

the waiting game is on,

hoping for a ping,

realizing it may be a Godot event.
















Thursday, March 27, 2014

the moment...



I've been writing a lot recently and want to share a poem with you.  Some of you may be able to relate...







She is older, wiser now,

Important decisions made long ago.




 

Yet her mouth tastes of liquor and cigarettes tonight,

It reminds her of an earlier time.



 

 

She dreams of a man

Golden hair, eyes the color of rich dark chocolate.

He already owned her heart when they shared a kiss.

Her shyness masked the melting, softening, opening inside,

Unable to say, You are the first.





 

She lost that moment,

Never/ever/again.