Fly Free

Well after my little rant in my last blog, I figured I would actually post another poem. Shocking huh? haha. Anyway, I was browsing through my list of poetry and came across this one. In reading through this again two things occur to me: 1. I was obviously at a very dark and trying time in my life; and 2. No matter how low I feel, I am, and always will be, a hopeless romantic.

Fly Free

My heart bleeds
My body shakes
My emotions in turmoil
I've done it again
Your lonely little bird
Scared and flying away
Desperately seeking approval
Fearing rejection
Wanting love and acceptance
Yet causing hurt
Running when she doesn't understand
Unable to know right from wrong
So afraid of causing more pain
Hurting the one person who understands
The little bird begs for forgiveness
But expects none
Thinking in her mind that she doesn't deserve it
He is her guardian angel
A bright spot in a dark and cruel world
His words sing through her heart like a melody
Igniting a fire that died long ago
Giving her pause
Making her see what it is to fly again
To leave behind the dark demons which haunt her dreams
Following her through her day
Refusing to give her a moment's peace
Chipping away at what is left of her fractured soul
But he lifts her up
Banishing the demons
Putting her high on a ledge and showing her that it is ok
She will be able to do it
To live, to soar amongst the clouds
To reach for the heavens
He will lead the way
Teach her how to fly again
To live a true life, not a ghost of an existence
Her guardian angel
Her white knight
Leading her back to the heavens where they can fly free together for the rest of time

Time for a Vent

So I haven’t updated this blog for awhile. Part of the reason was over the holidays I was stressed out and busy as heck. After that the reason I didn’t update it was because there was something I wanted to write but which I haven’t taken the time to sit down and write. The point of this blog was for my poetry. But it is my blog and I can do what I want with it (right??) so I decided in this case to use it as my venting board. My vent would be on religion and politics and particularly how they affect people and their attitudes.

Several months ago I made a new friend. We had different opinions on things when it came to politics and religion. For the most part this didn’t seem to be an issue until I totally disagreed with something that was said. The result was a very upsetting and inappropriate response that was extremely offensive and a personal attack on me. I was surprised to say the least.

I have never been one to get on the political or religious bandwagons. Politics I just don’t generally understand. Seriously how can anyone 100% most of what is said. You take one speaker and have two different people listen to the political speech and both of the people in the audience can draw totally different opinions and understandings from it based on their own personal feelings. Who is right? Who is wrong? It isn’t just black and white because each person draws from their own personal experience and beliefs. The same applies to religion. Each religion has their own beliefs and ideas of right and wrong.

I have attempted to take the time to follow politics and understand what the arguments were all about. However, I quickly loose interest time and again because it so frequently ends up being a personal attack given by one person or the other. Why should I listen or try to listen to your side of the argument when you back up what is said by saying “you are an idiot if you believe X, Y or Z.” Insulting my intelligence does nothing to help me understand your side or make me even feel the desire to see your side.

Does anyone every truly like to be insulted? Not anyone that I know. I respect that people have their own beliefs when it comes to politics and/or religion. That is great! But using either one as a justification for a personal attack on fellow people with emotions, feelings and beliefs just doesn’t seem right to me. What happened to respecting others? What happened to treating people the way you want to be treated? Does calling me or someone else an idiot because we have a different belief make people really feel better? In so many ways it seems like a grown up version of a kindergarten fight on the playground.

“I think Legos are better then Tinker Toys.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so and you are stupid.”

“I think Bush was better then Obama.”
“What do you base your opinion on?”
“Because he does dumb stuff and if you can’t see that then you are an idiot.”

Seriously, what is the difference between the two arguments? Neither has any supporting data or evidence one way or the other and both simply turn into personal attacks. You can substitute some religious belief in either scenario and have the same argument occur.

Frankly I don’t care what political party you belong to. I don’t care what religion you belong to. It makes no difference to me if you are a patriot, a republican, a loyalist, a democrat, catholic, Mormon, Jewish, Muslim or Hindu. I don’t care if you are a man or a woman, straight or gay, fat or skinny. What I care about is the human spirit and the way that people treat others. If you can treat others with respect and understanding as opposed to finger pointing and name calling then you will earn my respect and my ear to listen to what you have to say.

You want me to be on your political and/or religious stance then lead me by example of good character and compassion, not through insults and belittling statements.

Only Time Will Tell

Oh my. This poor little blog got neglected thanks to the joys of Christmas and New Years. I enjoy the holidays but they are stressful and horribly busy. I am glad they are finally behind me!

I dug around a bit in my old poetry and found this one to post. I was rather angry when I wrote it (I think that comes through rather clearly).

Only Time Will Tell

Who are you to judge me?
To ask the questions that you do?
Seven years heartache
Seven years spent begging
Wishing for love
Hoping for romance
Pushed aside
Like a useless hand-me-down
Left wanting
Longing for more
Terror filling my dreams
Hurt and betrayal my daytime companions
Then suddenly it is all suppose to change
Now you want to be my Romeo
Sweep me off my feet
You, the King of Hearts
When all you dealt before were spades
I am suppose to suddenly believe
You were to busy to care before
Why start now?
You needed the kick in the ass?
Didn’t you get that before?
How quickly you forget
Choose only what to remember
Didn’t I beg and plead before?
Did you not see my desperation?
My hurt, my rage
If I hadn’t cared would I have been so hurt?
I wanted to run away from the pain
A lonely solitude all alone
Roots and worms my companions
I choose to stay
To believe
To hope
What was my reward?
Two more years heartache
Same old, same old
Fights
Arguing
Loneliness
Not the companionship I had begged for
Like a thorn on a rose
So beautiful to look at
But piercing the skin if I get to close
Now we are here again
More nightmares and terrors
You asking me for what I begged for
Funny, you didn’t want it before
Same promises of change and healing
How am I to believe?
So many times the same words
Same conversations
Romance for awhile, then it all goes back
Not wanting to get my hopes up again
To only get crushed
I want my heart intact
Not shattered again
I will guard it with all I have
For it is all I have
The tables have turned
We have come full circle
Seeing things from another view
How will it end?
What will we be?
Friends, lovers, husband and wife?
Something more?
Something less?
Only time shall tell
I am still here
I haven’t left
Still trying for what is right
When the curtain of our lives finally closes
Then time will have told the answers.

Christmas Spider

This isn't my story, nor my writing but I really wanted to share it with everyone. My friend Deanne made Christmas spider ornaments this year for her church group. I felt very lucky because she made one for me to share with my kids as well. I had heard of the tradition of hanging a spider on the Christmas tree and part of the story, but she also told me the story and brought a copy in for me to share with my kids as well. I wanted to share with everyone as well as a picture of my spider.

The Christmas Spider

On Christmas eve, a long time ago, a gentle mother was busily cleaning the house for the most wonderful day of the year... Christmas day, the day on which the little Christ child came to bless the house. Not a speck of dust was left. Even the spiders had been banished from their cozy corner on the ceiling. They had fled to the farthest corner of the attic.

The Christmas tree was beautifully decorated. The poor spiders were frantic, for they could not see the tree, nor be present for the little Christ child's visit. Then the oldest and wisest spider suggested that perhaps they could wait until everyone went to bed and then get a closer look.

When the house was dark and silent, the spiders crept out of their hiding place. When they neared the Christmas tree, they were delighted with the beauty of it. The spiders crept all over the tree, up and down, over the branches and twigs and saw every one of the pretty things.

The spiders loved the Christmas tree. All night long they danced in the branches, leaving them covered with spider webs. In the morning, when the little Christ child came to bless the house, he was dismayed! He loved the little spiders for they were God's creatures, but he knew the mother, who had worked so hard to make everything perfect, would not be pleased when she saw what the spiders had done.

With love in his heart and a smile on his lips, the little Christ child reached out and gently touched the spider webs. The spider webs started to sparkle and shine! They had all turned into sparkling, shimmering silver and gold.

According to legend, ever since this happened, people have hung tinsel on their Christmas trees. It has also become a custom to include a spider among the decorations on the Christmas tree.

Poetry

So I was having a conversation with Jon tonight and we were discussing days gone by and funny pictures and stuff and he sent me something that I had sent to him a couple of years ago. It is from one of my junior high poetry books from English class. I just thought it was amusing and thought I would share. (And yes I know my handwriting was horrible lol)

My Prayer

I wrote the next item clear back in 1996. Obviously I was in the midst of a very bad and very volatile relationship. I honestly had forgotten that I had wrote the poem until about two years ago when I was cleaning out the basement and ran across some old notebooks and was flipping through them and found this. It isn't very well written but that was probably due to stress, anger and fear at the time. Just thought I would share.

My Prayer

They say women marry men like their fathers
Why does it have to be true?
In my case it is
The man I care most about is so much the same
The biggest similarity?
One word: Alcohol
The deadly drink
Poisoned water from some awful place
Suppose to be the drink of happiness, it is the kiss of hell
One of the most hated things in my life
Watching the one you love drink the poison
Seeing it take affect of their mind
That look of stupidity that creeps into their eyes
Trying to speak but only babbling
The coordination of hands, arms, fingers, no longer present
Walking is a major challenge
The straight and narrow becomes the bumpy stagger
The fear once again sets into my heart
Dear God what's going to happen this time?
Will something besides my heart be broken?
Will he hurt himself?
Please Lord, don't let him hit me.
Should I hide the car keys?
Oh please, please just let him pass out
Why can't someone show me how to help him
Why can't he help himself
Why must the cycle go on
It destroys my very being
Please let him understand
Maybe my tears will have an effect this time
Perhaps if I yell he will stop
Yet nothing works
The cycle repeats itself over and over
When will it stop
Will it ever
How long can I live an unhappy life
Until one of us dies ahead of schedule
Oh God, please no
But I fear the thought
One more night I will drop to my knees
Draw an invisible cross over my body
Lower my head and intertwine my fingers
The message always the same
Please God, keep my family (each individual named) safe and healthy
Please, please, please help him God
Turn him away from the drink and back to me
Don't let it happen again
I draw the cross again
Saying "In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen."
I climb into bed and hope that this time the Lord will answer my prayer.

The Cremation of Sam McGee

Once again this isn't one of mine, but with how damn cold it is outside today I thought it was appropriate lol

The Cremation of Sam McGee
By,
Robert W. Service

There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Artic trails have their secret tales
That Would make your blood run cold;
The Northern lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.

Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee,
where the cotton blooms and blows.
Why he left his home in the South to roam
'round the Pole, God only knows.
He was always cold, but the land of gold
seemed to hold him like a spell;
Though he'd often say in his homely way
that he'd "sooner live in Hell."

On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way
over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka's fold
it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we'd close, then the lashes froze
till sometimes we couldn't see,
It wasn't much fun, but the only one
to whimper was Sam McGee.

And that very night, as we lay packed tight
in our robes beneath the snow,
And the dogs were fed, and the stars o'erhead
were dancing heel and toe,
He turned to me, and "Cap," says he,
"I'll cash in this trip, I guess;
And if I do, I'm asking that you
won't refuse my last request."

Well, he seemed so low that I couldn't say no;
then he says with a sort of moan,
"It's the cursed cold, and it's got right to the bone.
Yet 'taint being dead - it's my awful dread
of the icy grave that pains;
So I want you to swear that, foul or fair,
you'll cremate my last remains."

A pal's last need is a thing to heed,
so I swore I would not fail;
And we started on at the streak of dawn;
but God! he looked ghastly pale.
He crouched on the sleigh, and he reaved all day
of his home in Tennessee;
And before nightfall a corpse was all
that was left of Sam McGee.

There wasn't a breath in that land of death,
and I hurried, horror-driven,
With a corpse half hid that I couldn't get rid,
because of a promise given;
It was lashed to the sleigh, and it seemed to say:
"You may tax your brawn and brains,
But you promised true, and it's up to you
to cremate these last remains."

Now a promise made is a debt unpaid,
and the trail has its own stern code.
In the days to come, though my lips were dumb,
in my heart how I cursed that load!
In the long, long night, by the lone firelight,
while the huskies, round in a ring,
Howled out their woes to the homeless snows-
Oh God, how I loathed the thing!

And every day the quiet clay
seemed to heavy and heavier grow;
And on I went, though the dogs were spent
and the grub was getting low.
The trail was bad, and I felt half mad,
but I swore I would not give in;
And I'd often sing to the hateful thing,
and it hearkened with a grin.

Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge,
and a derelict there lay;
It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice
it was called the Alice May.
And I looked at it, and I thought a bit,
and I looked at my frozen chum;
Then "Here," said I , with a sudden cry,
"is my cre-ma-tor-eum!"

Some planks I tore from the cabin floor,
and I lit the boiler fire;
Some coal I found that was lying around,
and I heaped the fuel higher;
The flames just soared, and the furnace roared-
such a blaze you seldom see,
And I burrowed a hole in the glowing coal,
and I stuffed in Sam McGee.

Then I made a hike, for I didn't like
to hear him sizzle so;
And the heavens scowled, and the huskies howled,
and the wind began to blow.
It was icy cold, but the hot sweat rolled
down my cheeks, and I don't know why;
And the greasy smoke in an inky cloak
went streaking down the sky.

I do not know how long in the snow
I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about
ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said,
"I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked."
Then the door I opened wide.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm,
in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile,
and he said, "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear
you'll let in the cold and storm-
Since I left Plumtee, down in Tennessee,
it's the first time I've been warm."
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold;
The Artic trails have their secret tales
That Would make your blood run cold;
The Northern lights have seen queer sights,
But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
I cremated Sam McGee.