Let's Go Down to the River again...

Starting tomorrow, it's the Mindful Writing River of Stones 2013 Challenge - one small stone per day
For details and to possibly join in with your own stones ... click on this link

http://www.writingourwayhome.com/p/river-jan-12.html

Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award!

Yesterday I received this award from a dear friend and a fine poet, Dr. Pearl Ketover Prilik http://www.drpkp.com/ (actually, she nominated me as one of 7 for the award - there are some stipulations to be completed which I am doing immediately so I am comfortable accepting the badge and putting it up on my page). This innovative award was created very recently (Nov.24/12) by another fine poet, Hannah Gosselin - so thanks to Hannah and to Pearl, and to the community of wonderful poets of which I am lucky enough to be part.

As part of the Sisterhood Bloggers Award, I am to list seven things about myself:

1.  I probably have more blogs up and running than I should admit to (at last count, somewhere around ten).
2. Writing has been a mainstay in my life for as long as I can remember.
3. Not many people know this but I placed third in the Romance Writers of Edmonton contest a few years ago.
4. Arthritis has been (so far) the worst part of getting older; it mostly bothers me because I haven't got much of a grip left and I like to shoot (at targets).
5. If I was independently wealthy - I'd pay off family debt, give a large whack to charity and spend the rest of the time travelling the world (and probably still writing).
6. Lately I find myself obsessed by certain computer games - only against myself - but still - I am surprised.
7. If I couldn't write, read and be with family (Lord, I sound boring) - I don't know what I'd do. I find myself wondering about receiving this award as I write these seven things. I can't seem to think of much of interest to say. However, "interesting" wasn't one of the prerequisites ... so, I'm still going with honoured and grateful to Pearl and Hannah,

This Just In

Beauty queen and actress found

Face down, lifeless

Never really did belong

(overheard)

"C'mon sweetheart - big smile, shoulders back

Bust out - show your assets - can't go wrong"

Just a pawn in the machine

Swallowed pills, pride, and words

Stayed silent like a good girl

(overheard)

 "Sorry, please, just one more take?"

"I'll be on time from now on, I promise"

"Fired?"

Never had a chance. Unless. No.

Never did.

Wherein the Greatest Advises the Science-Challenged

“Imagination is more important that knowledge,” and

“Imagination is everything. It is the preview of life’s 

coming attractions,” Albert Einstein

 In the miasma that is quantum physics or mitochondrial DNA

As I struggle to come to understand the chemical mystery

That is my insanity; I rejoice to learn that even Einstein believed

There was more merit in brainstorming about possibilities

Then dwelling on what has already been proven – in fact, he

Once said “I used to go away for weeks in a state of confusion”

A remark very similar to ones I myself make and, not infrequently

While admittedly, Einstein’s “what if’s” have resulted in some

Of the world’s truly great scientific finds and theories

It becomes apparent upon reading his biographies, and there

Are a plethora,   he had a superfluity of those questions –

Perhaps the staggering number alone, coupled with his passionate

Curiosity couldn't help but produce the theory of relativity

For instance – after all, there is certain logic to be considered

Here, and empirical data would suggest that – omigod – I am

Doing some scientific theorizing – am I out of my mind?

Well, yes – given my history, there’s a very good chance ...

It would appear that science and philosophy are growing

Closer together – some are even postulating that God

And Science are nearing a resolution previously thought

Unattainable, or even unthinkable; Albert Einstein must be

Chuckling or maybe just nodding, from wherever he is

After all, he did say, “All religions, arts and sciences are

branches of the same tree.” I could get behind that I think.

Every day, it seems that idea is becoming more accepted

As science embraces religion and vice-versa; Einstein also

Maintained that “God always takes the simplest way” and

“God may be subtle but he isn't plain mean”- a couple of notions

That might not sit well with some forms of the more traditional

Religions but for much of the world, made weary by chaos

Brought on by war and bitterness, the divisiveness that little

Understood factions on both sides have taken to exploiting,

This could be welcome news, especially those who are ready

To accept God and Science as partners in a changing world

THE UNBOUND WE

She sits quiet but seething

Taught what to think, not how

Her damaged psyche

Is just learning to seek

The company of women

Who, like her

Bear scars she wishes to excise

She knows she has the power

Within her to unravel the thread

That's kept her bound to men

Not a single one of whom

Has been any good for her

She is ready to become one

With the whole

She will be part of "we"

Yes.

Lupine Loveliness

Last night you howled me awake

The pair of you, serenading each other

Making music, or love, your voices ululating

Full of such terrible tenderness I found

Myself unable to return to slumber

Sweet but primitive yearning in your voices

Had me wondering, were you about to mate,

Or simply singing eternal love-songs to Luna

As she blessed you with her gibbous fullness

Showering silvery light on shadowy mountain peaks

Thank you for honouring me, oh ancient ones

Granting me your ghostly presence again this year

An affirmation of the circle of life, you surely are

Performing in the darkness as if in a dream;

Stopping by just long enough to grant me peace.                                                                                                                                                                             

To Become Light

I stand free

Ready to become

Light - no more

Excuses - I shift

The childhood

Inherited back beneath

Thunder's umbrella

Deeper than shadows

Of the past

I join to the present

And vow to remain

Here, now

ALONE

In the solitary moments of my separateness
I wonder why you occupy such space
And yet take up so little room
It’s as if you’re everywhere and nowhere all at once

My heart’s chambers on the other hand
Are scoured empty as old pails of lye
Rusting through now in its various weak spots

That comes as no great shock really
Since I’ve been scrubbing at the vestiges of caring for you
Long enough to diminish the thickness of the walls

And even though scars grow without my permission
Over damage we have inflicted simultaneously
I seem able to lessen their callous nature as the years go by

Until they too grow less able to sustain themselves
And eventually I sense them falling off
The way the last withered leaves depart the trees of autumn

I wonder, in my isolated soul, if when I am finally
Irrevocably emptied, without within, unoccupied of energy or life
Will I finally feel the peace of being one with all
Or will my aloneness be the peace I’ve sought all along

Desperately Missing You Who are Gone

I walk at night in the graveyard, and I walk alone

Hoping against despair somehow I will run into you

Knowing in my heart, and in my soul,  you are gone

Reading the stones, I weep, but still you are gone

I try to take it in, realize the truth of it, I am alone

No matter how I twist away from it, I don't have you

Oh what I would give for just one day more with you

It does not matter that I tell myself our days are long gone

No, for then I am left with the sad fact again, I am alone

So, I am walking on alone without you wishing I too were gone.

S.E.Ingraham©

Latching the Gate

A mind floods

with past indiscretions

and other bits

of curvaceous lunacy

Its owner gives

chase as they lace

through narrow synapses

spinning past gateways

permanently stuck open

Trying to map these

is a lesson in futility

as they ricochet

at warp speed from

dark alcove to darker

Gaining even more speed

with dangerous

invisible intent

Any idea of eventual

dwindle, a dim impossibility.

S.E.Ingraham

CHOOSING NOW

In the summer of our lives

When eternity stretched

Before us like a lazy cat

And fall stayed hidden

In the dark corners

Of bureau drawers

Housewives were just something

Our mothers became ...

Never those of us who played ball

Spent months perfecting our pitch

Felt the sting in the palm of a well-worn glove

Choosing to remain ignorant

For as long as possible

Subtracting years ahead

From the now of it

We spurned the future

Chewed the rind of a bitter lemon

S.E.Ingraham©

Routine Hangings

In a strobe-like flicker

It's caught like a black and white

Snapshot - no more than a gesture

Less than the thin skin

Of a timpani drum

Their lips barely touched each other

An act defiant before ...

They stand back to back

Hands tied together

Heads strain through ropes

Meaningless words are uttered

Chairs kicked out from under

They are sent off.

S.E.Ingraham©

We Are

Grief older than the sea

Rawer than the cliff-face

Rips at the tops of the grove

We are giants, we are holy

Trembling is not in our nature

But our roots are being shaken

There is death colouring the sky

Slashing through the pines

And the taste of it is bitterness

Smell the sulphur as the lightning

Strikes,  splits an elder to the ground

The thunder booms triumphant

And we know the game is on - but

We bend together, try for grouping

Try for strengthening - stand as one

It is cyclical we know and can tell

This through the rings that count

Our age - but we also know the time

And feel it to the marrow of our wood

When the sky grows copper bright

And then is limned with lightning too

We whisper urgently as we huddle

Ever closer listening as the storm

Begins to take apart our lower limbs

It sounds like hunting season as shots

Are ringing out - each time a branch

Breaks off and one of us comes closer

To dying while the storm goes raging on

The storm goes raging on bringing death

With every crash, every flash, every sound

And all we can do in our terror, in our fear

Is stand bravely, and hold to our truth

We are older than the wind, we are ancient

We have outlived such chaos before

We must trust we will outlive this

As some of us fly apart in the fierceness

Of the end of days, the rest carry on

It is our destiny, our fate and we embrace it

We are the ones, we will stand tall, we are.

S.E.Ingraham

Over Dinner

Somewhere between the cheesecake

And the devils on horseback

They revisit a topic best left alone

The evening begun with such promise —

fine wine, crisp linen, dimmer switch low

music soft and tasteful; kitchen smells scrumptious—

Rapidly deteriorates, spins with concentric determination

Down, down, down — to the dark place

All too familiar to them both

She feels if she stretches her arms out,

Her hands will feel  cold, damp—

No, not damp —slimy —slimy, wet walls

And she knows the walls will be closing

in on them, on her

He, on the other hand, feels as if the ground

is disappearing beneath their feet

That the more they talk, the less real his world

is becoming

Until soon it and he, will become entirely weightless

He knows there will be no keeping him grounded

That his drifting away from her will have

the permanence of death

Still – try as they might to quell them,

Bitter words, crisp as alum, fall from their lips

Spill like old blood on the empty china plates

Plinking like coins, each one louder,

Uglier than the last

Her hands fly to her face

Touch the heat gathered there and

the salty tears leaking freely

Her voice is stayed and she stares

at him blankly, wondering again,

How is it they have arrived at this place...

The silence gathers like snowdrifts,

catches his ear; he stops to listen,

Stares into her leaking eyes

They stretch their hands towards each other

Grasping for some remnant of their love,

Her lips tremble with the absurdity

Of the notion that they may try

This staying together thing  another time;

How can she consider the idea

For even a second, when they both come

From such vastly different places,

Remember such very different pasts

She tries to remind herself how badly

He rewrites her history

How embellishment is one thing but now,

Every recital  of her transgressions

Has her growing more evil, less well

Then, tonight – oh my God – tonight

She’d almost forgotten that they’d

actually opened

Old-new wounds, some things she’d believed

scarred over

Were apparently never fully slashed apart

in the first place

The fact of the fiction has her feeling surreal

She can't tell which way is up, north, down, east

Her discombobulation so great, she feels

physically unwell

How could her memory be this faulty?

Could she really be this far off the mark?

She feels demented – she knows she's

subject to sadness

And bouts of mania – but demented?

Does she also have to accept that?

Dementia seems such an old person’s thing...

Besides she couldn’t be wrong

about all of her history —

Could she?

S.E.Ingraham©

Deep Tissue Bruising

It is late in the day before she crawls

From the edge of the woods where

She's lain crumpled since her last beating

Since coming to,  her head is crashing

Crazily and her skin burns so, she fears

She might actually be glowing ...

Except for a tiny blood blackened split

Over one eyebrow, she appears unharmed;

Her bruises are of the deep-tissue type

And she knows as she draws to a crouch

First,  then finally hauls herself to her feet,

Walking is going to cause pain so severe

It will pierce every single part of her -

Bursting flowers of agony like fireworks;

It's not  the first time, she's had to chisel out

A normal seeming demeanor to get her

Through, but it's getting closer to the last

S.E.Ingraham©

Becoming Shrink-Wrapped

Another day, another mind mapper

He tells me we're not here to go over

Every little detail of my history - relief

Washes over me just in time to hear

Him continue - no, what he wants

To do is help me discover who I am

Oh joy, oh thank you Jesus, I think

But don't say aloud; after all I do

Want to be released from this place

Of cages and experimental drugs

And doctors like this one someday

And sooner rather than later I hope

And sarcastic remarks don't aid

In that result usually ...

I allow my brain to slide into the zone

While this guy begins his spiel about

The ego, the id and the super-ego

I wonder vaguely if he's even glanced

At my file; taken into consideration

How long I've been at this game

Been in the so-called system

Or, noticed - and this I am sure not -

That I have some background in psychology;

I might know a little bit about the basics

I forget just where he is in his lecture

When I realize I can't stand another

Minute of this useless appointment

I sit up straighter - look him in the eyes

So intently he actually stops talking

Looks somewhat nervous - the silence

In the office is louder than rush-hour

Traffic; we are at a stalemate, glaring

At each other when I finally tell him

Flat out, "You do realize I am just

fucking crazy right?" He literally jumps

a bit; I mean, his whole body lifts off

the chair and back from the desk

before jarring back down - he still stares

"And you are something like my tenth

shrink?" I continue now that I have

his attention, I figure I might as well

Go for it - I can see he's trying to

Compose himself and decide to take

Pity on him - "Listen, I know you're just

trying to do your job and it's a thankless

crap job at that, but if you could just

please try not bull-shitting me -"

He has started shaking his head as if

to say, oh no, he wasn't --

"Doing the whole ego blah blah blah

routine on me is such old news ..."

I tell him; "I'm just saying, it's not

helpful. I will walk out of here and

try to get a day pass so I can get

to the High Level Bridge and leap off

 - you take my meaning?"

He has the good grace to blanche

His pasty white face growing whiter

than I would have believed possible

No shrink wants a suicide on their

record but an in-hospital offing?

On their watch? It doesn't bear thinking

about; I can practically read his mind

Shortly he sends me off with an aide

back to the ward still crazy, still unsolved

S.E.Ingraham©

Second Sunday in May and No More Roses

Every year on this day of days

They take part in a ritual

the significance of which

Only those haunted by these

particular demons understand

Or have need of

Each one is as revered as any goddess

And travels as far as it takes to visit

The same sacred place; a site indigenous

To those who die while serving

Their country

With unspoken intentions they converge

As if gathering at a summit, each one

Carrying a flag folded to the exact

Specifications as each other one

They have no need for further elaborations

It is Mother's Day - these are the mothers of dead sons and they meet here annually—

to remember their boys;

It is the only time they allow themselves the indulgence of so much remembering, rubbing their memories like the well-worn beads on the string of a rosary

They store their commonality and strength, the courage they take from each other, fit for another year.

S.E.Ingraham©

no more than the bird with the piercing voice*

night is rendered mute

blanketed in storms of

soot, smoke, blood-stains

the youngest are always

led away first in no

particular order, maybe

by height; eyes eloquent

shrieks strafe the air

in the beginning but

shortly it is silence

that makes the eardrums

throb

S.E.Ingraham©

*from a fragment of a Sappho poem

A Moon is Cresting the Horizon

A moon is cresting the horizon, it's huge and creamy

The colour reminiscent of churned butter, old roses, love

And as I drive home, I catch glimpses of it as it rises

Through the trees in the park, over, and between the peaks

Of houses and other buildings; it makes arcing progress

Easily tracked and yet always slightly surprising in that

Way that makes one go, 'ah, there you are' — as if greeting

An old friend playing a casual game of hide 'n see

While you go on your way, and it goes on its way also.

S.E.Ingraham©