"I am hearing poetry when awake, dreaming poetry when asleep, breathing poetry with each breath, I am living in a poem."

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Watercolor Whispers

My life had been a dark and lonely place
A world of black and white existence
Framed with despair

I thought I was destined to live a life without color
In my cold grayness
Until you came to me

With an artist’s touch you painted my soul with brush strokes of love and joy
Your heart’s palette with its watercolor whispers colored my loneliness
With pink belonging and lavender hope

By the artistry of your love
My life is now adorned with tints of love and laughter
A blush of contentment covers my life
As I look forward to a future bright with the mastery of your touch
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Cat on The Keyboard and Other Excuses

One evening at 11:00 p. m. I sat down at my desk with the lofty goal of putting my thoughts down on paper. Well it wasn’t exactly pen to paper. I was sitting at my computer using word processor that allows me to backspace and delete. Anyway I had a head full of thoughts I was trying to get organized. I took a deep breath and began to type. I hadn’t even completed a sentence when my cat jumped up to sit in front of the monitor.

Bindilu (my gray striped tabby) sat with his face glued to the screen batting at the cursor while I tried peering around him to type. I attempted to get rid of him by telling him to move, but he simply ignored me. Finally I took a deep breath and gave him a shove that landed him on a pile of mail sitting on my desk. Fortunately he decided his monitor play had exhausted him and he curled up on my electric bill to take a nap.

I now had a clear view of my monitor. All those thoughts could now be…..could be…Could be what? My cat distraction had all my brilliant witticisms jumbled up again. My original plan was to sit down to write a poem about wind chimes. That inspiration had come to me from listening to them play their music outside my window. What had once been sweet poetry of love’s tune blowing in the wind had now turned into an annoying clank. The romance had gone out of my writing.

With love no longer working for me I thought perhaps I would write about a giant Lady bug I saw yesterday. I began with….Sitting in the park I glanced up to see a Lady bug the size of a professional basketball player making it’s way down the hillside. That gigantic insect was being escorted……pmgvdw------------

Not again! Bindilu had awakened from his nap. In order to reach my lap he had taken a stroll across the keyboard. In his self absorbed feline world it was time to have his ears rubbed. It didn’t matter to him that my literary genius was being squelched by his antics.

I decided I had had enough. All the thoughts in my head were now more of those befitting a Stephen King novel. I was either going to do Bindilu great harm or toss him on the floor and walk away. I debated for a moment and decided to give the chubby feline a toss. He landed on all fours with a look that told me I hadn’t seen the last of him. With one quick expletive tossed his way I stomped out of the library to drown my frustration in late night re-runs on TV. Writings of amour would just have to wait until another day!
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My New Life

Confessions of a Laundry Goddess




A New Me



Recently I watched a Discovery Channel program on brain injuries. It was all quite interesting but one piece of information was not only informative but actually explained a lot about myself . Some might say I was already brain damaged prior to a life altering event, but it seems I actually have science to confirm I have indeed suffered damage to the very part of the brain that contains the essence of who I am.



Three years ago I was in an auto accident. I suffered numerous injuries. One was head trauma which resulted in being unconscious for an extended period of time and a severe concussion. I experienced some of the worst vertigo of my life. I had no idea whether I was up or down. My head spun with such severity I was sure it was actually physically turning 360 degrees on top of my spine. Any moment I was sure I would be spitting pea soup and a priest would appear to cast out demons!



In the days, months, and years since my accident I found myself stating I did not feel like the same person who had entered the intersection on that sunny May day in 2006. I couldn't’t explain it, but I knew I was different. I have always been outgoing. I made friends easily and I could make a fool of myself without much effort or care. Now it seems that ability has been magnified along with a new characteristic or problem. It is all in how you look at it I suppose. I now find myself with what appears to be ADHD. Trying to get me to focus is like trying to get a cat in a bag without getting clawed. My mind is always working. It is in overdrive while my feet seem to wander wherever they choose.



The part of my brain that was damaged is in the front of the brain. That is where all that makes you who you are is contained. Numerous brain scans did not reveal damage, but according to the Discovery program there can be tiny microscopic tears that can damage and alter who you are.



Those closest to me have noticed subtle changes. Some things that used to interest me no longer hold any interest. While some things I have been interested in now seem to be almost an obsession. I am more prone to take risks. Venture outside my physical and emotional box so to speak. I have always been a happy person. Now I seem to break out in what I can only describe as happy spells. Sporadic spells of pure joy and laughter. It just seems to well up inside of me until it breaks forth on its own accord.



What could have ended my life or caused complete physical mental damage has left me different, but kept in tact much of my old self. I was blessed with a series of miracles that saved my life. I will be forever thankful that God brought me through that day. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring but today is a gift. I will open it. Celebrate it. And hopefully will bring others into my new found exuberance for life!
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Monday, October 26, 2009

Were I

Were I to dream
I would dream of you

Were I to hope
I would hope for you

Were I to pray
I would pray for you

Were I to love
I would love YOU
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Heart Search

Glancing through photographs I came upon your smiling eyes
Their glance seemed to know me
To understand my heart's longing

Without words you spoke to my heart
Telling me you had been waiting for me
Willing me to find you

Closing my eyes I knew I no longer would dream alone
Within my soul was peace
And the knowing I would not have to spend any more of my days
In a heart search
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Oh Sleep

Oh sleep where are you?
My heavy eyes want your rest
Quiet those thoughts that keep me from you
Their nocturnal dance stirs my heart
To yearn for what I can not have
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Sunday, October 25, 2009

Food Addict

I don't know if you are like me or not, but I am addicted to food. From my first conscious thought in the morning to my last one at night I am fantasizing about what I will eat next. It doesn't matter that I may have consumed a huge meal and I can barely breath. My thoughts are already mentally mapping out my next foray into the pantry. I will raid the frig looking for anything that would fill that slightly hollow place in my gut. Maybe a slice of cheese, some yogurt, or even a mouthful of jelly might hold me for a .......second or two. If my food search should come up empty, desperation would set in. I could see myself racing to a street corner. There I would stand next to a homeless guy with my own home made sign reading "SNACKLESS." I would hold out my cup begging for someone to drop in a Frito, a few chips, or even a crumbled Oreo.

I walk thirty minutes on my treadmill or ride five miles on my bike in an effort to work on getting in shape. After all that exertion I fall into my chair with a cookie, a couple of Hershey kisses and a diet coke. Weight training is much more tolerable if I turn on the TV and watch those McDonald's commercials as I work my biceps.

It is tough being a foodaholic. Even shampoos, shower gels, and bubble baths have such delicious names. You can wash your hair in strawberry scents, bathe with chocolate body scrub, and top it off with raspberry cream lotion. You already smell like a buffet without ever stepping near one.

I can't even escape food while doing my laundry. I seem to wear whatever food item I have recently consumed. The sauce on my blouse causes me to reflect on that pulled pork sandwich I ate. That dribble on my Bermuda shorts is the remains of a frozen custard I  consumed. My t-shirt looks like a menu with potato salad, roasted chicken, and butter remains splashed across it. Why even the clothes themselves begin to look like food items. I think that whole load of t-shirts looks like one giant taco!
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Jim's Confession

Being a Laundry Goddess I am privy to sundry confessions of my followers. They range from the humble who seek to unburden themselves about their lack of ability to perform a a laundry task to those whose confession is nothing more than a prideful presentation of their total mastery of cleaning clothes. Occasionally I am presented with a confession I feel I must share. To protect his privacy I will only use his first name. The following is Jim's confession.

I have been doing my own laundry since I was ten years old. Try to imagine the stares I received form the women at the Laundromat as I arrived on my bicycle with my bag of dirty laundry. I would navigate that typically female domain until I found an available washing machine. Ignoring the glares of the laundry ladies I would go about my business as though I knew exactly what I was doing. With my washer secured I  would then go to the soap dispenser to purchase detergent. I would stand peering through the plastic trying to decide which name brand laundry soap would be the right choice. Finally with exasperation I would just drop in my coins and randomly select one. I would then go back to my washer and then fear would set in. The fear of not having enough money for the washer and the dryer. I would frantically count all my change to see if I had enough to complete my laundry task.

With several poorly executed attempts I came to the realization I should first put the soap into the washer before adding my clothes. That was important knowledge because the result of placing clothes and then soap left lumps of soap stuck in the folds of my laundry.

While my clothes were washing I would ride my bicycle and search for coke bottles I could turn into spare change. Invariably I would find a few at the baseball park located behind the Laundromat. I would take my findings to the Lil' General Store next to the Laundromat and turn my bottles in for coin. That jingle in my pocket made me feel as though I could buy anything I wanted. I wasn't just a kid trying to do laundry. I was King of the Laundromat!

I would return to the Laundromat to check on my clothes. Usually by this time the number of women had dwindled down to one or two and that helped me feel less anxious. To transfer my clothes from one washer to the dryer I would grab one of those baskets with a clothes rack attached to it. I would position it in front of the dryer implying my temporary ownership of dryer and basket.
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When the clothes were dry I would stuff my freshly laundered clothing into my bag. I would then hop on my bicycle and head home. My mission was complete or so I thought.

Once home invariably I would discover I was one sock short! How did this happen? I pictured the possiblility of a one legged man who would watch and wait to grab just one sock. Perhaps a sock consuming monster lived in the bottom of the washing machine with an appetite that could only be satisfied by one of my stockings. The dryer! Yes the dryer! That had to be it! It was in that warm moist world where the God of Hosiery resided. He demanded the first and cleanest sock be placed upon his heated altar.

I feel I shall never know what happened to my socks. It is just one of life's mysteries. What I do know is that a tender ten year old boy has grown into a mature adult man who knows how to do his own laundry.
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Nightfall


As the curtain falls
On the world's idiocy
You will find me sitting
In the audience not asking
For nor wanting an encore
I sit for a few moments
While the curtain of darkness
Envelops me then I run for
An exit that will take me
Away from everything
That resembles reality

The darkness extends
Its soft beautiful hand
And leads me into a
World where I don't have
Any questions and I seek no solutions

The velvety curtain protects
Me from evil until it has
To leave me and rise on the world again
But with the first signs of the inevitable dawn
I cower in my corner and
Try not to see the world
That's revolving around me

I wait until it is time for
The curtain to fall and I know
The darkness will take me
Once again into a world of unreality

Susie C
The photograph is one of my own taken on one of my early morning walks.
(I wrote this when I was 15. I had been sexually abused as a child and had hidden it from everyone. My poetry became my therapy where I could release some of the darkness in me.)
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My Love Sleeps

As you sleep next to me so close we could be one
I watch silently as you dream
Your gentle breath upon my face is like the
Whispering wings of a butterfly

Memories of all the years we have been together flood over me
I remember the first time I saw you so tall -so handsome-so young
You reached out your hand and led me onto the dance floor
Without knowing it I was taken in the embrace of the one
Who would hold all my tomorrows

Recollections of strong arms cradling tiny cherubs with rose bud cheeks
Little girls with doe eyes reaching up to be drawn
Into the circle of your arms-to be held by your strength

Whispers of the times I heard you proclaim your love
For me tease me while the music of your laughter plays softly in my soul
The harmony of our beings orchestrates a love song that has no end

Soon you will stir to begin your day
But while I can I will hold my slumbering love
I will keep you close for just a few more moments
Dream on my love
I am here with you


Susie C
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Moonlight Embrace

The moonlight's touch on my skin
Was like the fingertips of a lover
It's soft touch reached deep into my soul

I sat in the moon's embrace
While the wind whispered
A love song in my ear

Love's melody played softly
As my heart listened
To the soft strains of promised love

In that moonlit enfolding I yearned to
Know the name of the one who
Would love me

Quietly the moon assured me
My love to be also heard this song
And was waiting for me

Impatient me wanted my love revealed immediately
But that radiant orb embraced me even tighter
And assured me my cherished one would come

So my beloved as you sit in the moonlight
I will wait here for you
Comforted by the moon
Knowing you will hear the celestial serenade
That will bring you to me

Susie C
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If Ever


I wrote this poem after losing my mother to Alzheimer's. I don't know what my future holds. I don't dwell on it. I wanted to tell my girls what I was feeling and to leave them with these words if it ever happened to me.
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Saturday, October 24, 2009

Sneaking A Cigarette

Oh the days of youth when you don't have a care in the world and you are always experimenting with new things. I can remember the first time I smoked a cigarette. My mom smoked and I thought it was fascinating. There was just something about putting a rolled up tube of tobacco in your mouth and setting it on fire. Watching her puff smoke out of her mouth made me think of magical dragons who wore cat eye glasses, had permed hair, and drank coffee.

My mom, her mom, and sisters would sit around the kitchen table smoking. They would flick their ashes into glass ash trays while the coffee cups clanked as they plopped them down on the chrome kitchenette. I would stare and with all my precociousness I would ask if I could have a cigarette. They would all say through the smoke, "No, you're not old enough!" What does old enough mean to a kid when ten years old felt ancient? I would be told to go play and I would retreat just far enough to keep watch on their vaporous gathering.

One day I decided I would try a cigarette. Carefully I pulled one out of my mom's pack and headed outdoors to light up. I knew if she caught me there would be hell to pay so I looked for something I could use to hide it from her. I looked down and saw an old skillet that was used as a feeding dish for our pet dog. I thought that would be sufficient to prevent mama from seeing me. I headed up the hill with my skillet, cigarette, and match in hand. Why I chose to smoke outdoors in full view of the house is a mystery. Maybe I was afraid of setting one of our outbuildings on fire if I secreted myself in one of them. I decided on my location at just the top of a hill. I lit my cigarette; raised my skillet shield and took a puff. My eyes watered as I coughed my way through my first smoke. I never thought of how ridiculous I looked holding a skillet next to my face with smoke billowing all around it. I was either smoking a cigarette or burning toast in that skillet positioned right next to my head. I began to feel a little ill from it so I lowered my iron buckler and smashed the burning cigarette until the flame was extinguished.

I don't know what cosmic force was at work that day that prevented my mom from looking out the window and catching me puffing away, but I was grateful for it. Many years later I confessed my cigarette secret at one of those tell all family gatherings. You know the type. The ones where you open up your Pandora's box of dumb to get a few laughs and rediscover we were all kids once.
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Remembering Until the Glue Dries

I am forever coming up with ideas for poems or blogs. I think of line here a line there and scribble them down on Post It notes, notepads, napkins, the instruction booklet for my DVR and on and on. They all sound great but I can't seem to connect the dots. 

The Post It notes are some of my favorites. I paste them all over the place with that wonderful line I just created. It is like my own literary wallpaper. Their bright colors with my random thoughts decorate whatever space I placed them on. Surrounded by my own creativity I remember each one until the glue dries on the Post it notes. They then tumble to the floor and become just another bit of paper to throw away.

I really should be more organized. If anyone should ever stumble upon all my scribbled collection they might think me a genius or just odd. The writings I have tossed might have been the beginnings for the next best seller. Well, that is a bit of a stretch, but I might have thrown away the very words that would have at last allowed me to finally finish one of my unfinished musings.

I think I will write my new year's resolutions early. At the top of my list I will put...Finish what you have begun...
I will write it on a Post It and then place it next to my computer and remember it until..........
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Friday, October 23, 2009

Break Your Mirror And Think What You Want

I looked in the mirror this morning and immediately focused on all the things I perceived to be wrong with me. My lips are too thin. I have crows feet. Oh now there is a new wrinkle around my mouth! And you don't even want to hear what I was thinking about the rest of my anatomy. I began thinking of plastic surgery where the artistry of the surgeon could make me into that beautiful vision I had been dreaming about.

Wait a minute! Why am I obsessing on my physical appearance? Well I know why. All forms of media tout that physical beauty is all that matters. It is that magic carpet ride to perfect happiness. They fail to tell you beauty without substance is often ugly. I have devalued who I am as a person by only looking in the mirror and seeing what I lack.

A revelation came to me. I had an answer to derail my thoughts from that endless quest for perfection. Break your mirror and think what you want! Now before you think I have lost my mind I didn't go around literally breaking every mirror in the house. I broke the hold that had me basing my worth on what I saw in the mirror.

What I should reflect to a watching world is what is inside of me. That quirky sense of humor that has me laughing more at myself these days. A heart that will have me crying with someone who is hurting or trying to find words to help them make their day a little better. Letting go with that inner child who can still be in awe at seeing something for the first time. My spirit that has me dancing when no one else is on the dance floor.

While taking an inner look I also perceived there are areas needing help. Areas that require an emotional face lift or a nip tuck on self indulgence. Problem areas I have not dealt with because I had spent so much time focusing on the outer me.

I am celebrating my broken mirror. In its shards I can see all the different things that make me ME! There is much more beauty in one's self than what can be seen in a mirror hanging on a wall. If you walk away only focusing on what you can see with your eyes you neglect a chance to see what is inside. Perhaps it is there you need to do some work. So I encourage everyone to break your mirror and think what you want!
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