Flaw in Snow

November 30

FLAW IN SNOW

Waiting for snow.  Waiting for cold fingers, slick roads, warm beds, reading by firelight.  Waiting for the proof of lack of control.  Waiting itself proves lack of control.  I can dance the snow dance and refuse to buy new shovels, hang out laundry, put out every manner of storm tempters; still I cannot force the hand of nature.  I must sit with my crystalline optimism and endure these cloudless skies.  There will be snow, it will fall somewhere, but I mustn’t grow overanxious ‘cause it may never snow in Miami.

Treat yourself with learning.

*

My Most Important Meal

Sweet potato pudding sits on the plate;

I sit in my place and wield my spoon

until the plate is clean.

I’m fed, my day begins.

If this is the best part of my day,

life is still sweet and fine.

Time skips its way through and I meet and greet

the splendid and the few.

Picking my way, the raindrops step aside;

I am gratified, though I never mind the rain.

When the mud has settled and my bed calls me home;

I look back to the start of the day

and pray to begin the next one the very same way.

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/0_muX8IfQHI

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

Endless Pasta

November 29

ENDLESS PASTA

Having limits in a seemingly limitless universe makes me feel horribly inadequate.  I am a sad little creature in the face of overwhelming tasks.  Pressure and unwarranted ego compress my ability and eager disposition.  I am forced to see there are chores outside my qualifications and willingness. Going on in the face of crushing requirements extrudes my life force into a plateful of capellini lying exposed with no gravy to keep me warm.  It is hard to realize, in this world of wonder and delight a plate of naked spaghetti can’t do it all.

Put a penny in your sock.

*

Relay

I have waited so long for the chase, the trap,

the dig a ditch for safety, to be over and here we are;

ringed, safe and surrounded.

Now the sweet work of living the life

we have striven for, striven to.

I now long to be my best, do my best,

for you are the best for me and I am the best for you.

I tense and press against the blocks;

the race I wish to run,

but all I knew was to wait.

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/Hl6Vd8z-p3c

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Navy Duck

November 28

NAVY DUCK

When the postcard is hung upside down the plane flies away on its back.  I know one of those irregular days with the disposition of a bee-stung mule is on its way to visit me.  I have found diplomacy goes a long way and when it runs out, humor is the best fallback, nothing mean or sophomoric, but the ability to laugh is a fortune in the face of a bankrupt day.  When the sun sets on these spare and harrowing days, I mortgage strength from tomorrow and right the picture then try to fly right.

Plod when you can’t skip.

*

The Twelfth of April

When I met you,

you were a power tagged and trapped in a box.

A tiger caught by its toe and yet I could do nothing

but fall under the spell of your roar.

The suppressed growl you leave for me

like an invitation I could never decline.

I write to you a note of explanation;

words testifying to my desire,

which I promise to hold back out of respect for you.

And a wish to survive my drive toward you

and your furious stripes and claws.

Your bite which I long to feel,

yet know I must not ask for.

When I inquire if you have read,

you say with sanguine smile, “Read it to me.”

When I am done and with tear stained face,

all you reply is,

“I have lost my taste for anyone but you.”

Vlog: http://youtu.be/BErwEM4t6Hw

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

The Storyteller

November 27

THE STORYTELLER

Funny stories I long to share with new friends have to be put aside while the core of this entity is built.  Mutual memory is the siding on a house framed in integrity.  Treading together through the past, we strengthen each other's perception; it's the only support that can be offered without time travel.  We take hands, then link arms, wander happily toward the future having the keys to history jangling in our fists; we can return whenever prudent or necessary.  We forge a fresh path and hope for a pleasant journey; between us we figure we have slain all the dragons.

Invest in idealism.

*

At The Dodge

I remember so long ago

when I would come and sit and listen;

soak in the poets and the Consort,

sop it all into the sponge that listened and sat.

I did not know exactly what they were doing

and I didn’t know why I was there,

but I went and had a soak.

Now so many years hence

I am the writer I never knew

and I know just what they do ,

because I do it too!

Vlog: http://youtu.be/KdHEGLintMM

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Assurances of Gulliver

November 26

ASSURANCES OF GULLIVER

Poor Lilliputians and my egg shaped conundrum!  At least they have the strength of their convictions when I have only pondering to share the space between my ears.  What sense could the world make if there is no one right way and each person is free to open the egg from either end or leave the thing intact, having instead maybe a bagel? I have been looking for the combinations to unlock the universe when possibly it’s an egg shaped thing with no doors or locks and all that’s left is to break in or out.

Believe what you can do.

*

Poorly Chirping

She writes poetry like fusion jazz,

more fun to make than to listen to.

She stands at the podium serving as a bad example.

I pray as she reads,

“Lord, please don’t let me get sucked into

the self-importance of bad poetry

for the sake of peering peers,

Forgetting to write what is there

for the world, the readers,

the things which bring the word pictures

and sets them before me.

Lord, remind me that the writing is not done for me,

but done for as Billy Collins quotes,

for the love of strangers.”

Vlog: http://youtu.be/ded-ZwPisXo

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

The Flying Mind

November 25

THE FLYING MIND

When my brain flies out my ear, destination unknown, I am left mentally bereft.  I feel intellectual convolution and show no affliction other than my inability to fulfill my assignments.  I stare out sure a ring of blue birds circle my head, or maybe stars like any other cartoon patsy.  What to do?  These parodied wingdings ridicule me privately leaving the impression of idiocy with onlookers and supervisors.  My focus and perceptions quaver and I lose my place.  I have to find a way to spot and keep my emotional balance, the same way I stay upright during pirouettes by watching one doorframe or light switch.  I need an unmoving object in a sea of swimming thoughts.  I still need to make the mental turns but this should be much easier if I stop landing on my face.

Work with yourself.

*

John Grisham

My time hovering low over the ocean

has filled me until I am ready to drop.

The weight of what is inside me bears down.

I know with the slightest cooperation

I will become a rainmaker.

I am mostly fine with this.

I know from whence the rain was derived

and I can let it fall in peace.

What I don’t know how to handle

is the acknowledgement.

The difference between what I know

and what you might think is vast

and if I try to dissuade you

I sound disingenuous or fraudulent.

I have to get my head around the part I play

and accept the roses when they come.

I don’t understand how this looks from offstage

or what it means to those who watch.

I hope they will enjoy the work

but never mistake me for the playwright.

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/VePH0r1p3_M

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Like Peace

November 24

LIKE PEACE

Peace, like an elephant on my chest; I can’t breathe but at least we are not fighting.  The rigid air hangs like sheets on the line, stiff but dry.  Plastered smiles and short salutations get us through until bedtime, but what we can hold in standing up pours out lying down.  Tender feelings are compressed and come out only as water.  Anger bubbles and brews.  Disappointment lives down deep and sours the milk of love.  There are things worse than cross words.  Moldering, festering, frozen words pound spikes in a relationship fraught with apprehension.  The truth is I would let these pent-up things out, but I don’t trust you and I don’t trust me.

See through time.

*

How I’ve come upon the World.

My first exposure to Bogart

was as the man who was after Bugs Bunny,

and Lauren Bacall was only referred to as Baby.

I only ever heard Kaw Liga because

Stephen King referenced it too often

and I had to go have a listen.

I come through the back door on so much of the world

and it has served me rather well.

Yes, I often feel ignorant,

but at least the knowledge never sees me coming

and I get the drop on it.

There is a quality to not having been spoon-fed,

that keeps me sharp and allows for depth.

The universe sends me clues and I go investigate.

It cuts down on the agendaed learning of the social norms

and cuts me a wide swath beyond the common path.

There are times when conformity is key;

then again it’s a sweet thing to have a choice.

Vlog: http://youtu.be/vOk4ICNxMiE

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Pride Goeth Before a Fall

November 23

PRIDE GOETH BEFORE A FALL

In truth, pride goes wherever it wants, it’s pride.  Pride wanders alone, for no one enjoys its company.  Pride travels far but gets nowhere.  Pride rises above reality and seeps beneath the surface.  When pride wears out, love and honesty poke holes in it until it is grounded and transforms to humility.  Pride’s past is remembered with flush and embarrassment.  Recounting yesterday is pride’s unenviable task.  Keeping it from recreation is mine.

Dress yourself with love.

*

No Mickey Mouse

The Wonderful World of Disney

belonged to normal children;

kids with Sunday nights

and not the tear filled screaming

which punctuated my weekends.

I had no time for the creative melodrama

built to add interest into the dull little lives

of safe little ones, there is no Disney for me;

no clean pasteled figures frolicking.

I know only the freshened wit of the wizened rabbit

and the frenetic slamming of that distorted duck;

these are there for me.

Teaching me the dark humor of the life I lead;

Preparing me to laugh at M*A*S*H,

yet still never cluing me to the fact

that Carroll O’Connor was only teasing,

so still I cried to hear his rants,

But the dry irony of Hawkeye,

war and blood, those I got.

I was carefully led there by the Merry Melodies.

Vlog: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R7AIC03nvnM&feature=youtu.be

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Jellyfish and Peanut Butter Cards

November 22

JELLYFISH AND PEANUT BUTTER CARDS

Jellyfish and peanut butter cards make for busy days and cheerful nights, sunlit at the beach and lantern light filled with double-decker solitaire.  Camping as a way of life suits some as they run from their lives.  For the more balanced, camp is a temporary retreat.  To the overly invested, camping is an aberration, a threat to the foundations of civilization as we know it.  I can take a bit of sand in my hair, smoke in the air.  Though I do dread the feeling of coming back to the life I love and feeling like a stranger.  Temporary disengagement estranges me from the place, the things, the dog.  I need time away, variety of experience, expanded horizons.  I need my entrenched home life.  I need it all and must accept the clock never stops running anyplace on the planet even if I am enjoying a good game with sticky camp cards, regaling tales of man-of-war.

Don’t break your wishbone.

*

One and One

The person who has nothing is vague.

The person who has too much alludes.

And these people may falsely mistake one another

for kindred

when what you draw your conclusions from

are the poems and sweet words,

which flow out of these divergent folk.

A paper house is built, but the living is impossible.

Tying strings to dreams doesn’t permit you

to fly away to fairylands it just leaves you prone

to lightening strikes and long wet wicks.

What could be the truth unfolded;

spread broadly for all to see?

Where could the roads so very far apart

lead to a home, a hearth, a life?

Or is this just a field of fantasy flowers blooming in our minds?

Mist is vapor pretending at a marriage

to a world it will soon evaporate and leave.

You and I are passing ships on a short sad night.

Vlog:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eSJYcDs6BWE&feature=youtu.be

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Floral Trophies

November 21

FLORAL TROPHIES

Captured pet plants grow in my window.  Why these specimens are given such regal care I suspect, but can’t explain.  Delicate shoots pile out of sturdy stalks; roots force the confines of my decorative pots.  How many neighborly blooming faces stare into my kitchen, greeting me mornings?  I am amazed what good company my leafy friends can be when I am loving myself.  Advantageous to my mental health, I breathe their exhaust and they breathe mine.  Symbiotic, we live.  I grow and flower; grateful these plants keep me.

Allow also small dreams that fit in your hand.

*

Jet Lagging

Baby’s feet kick in the isle

and we are all cocooned in our seats.

The movies play and earphones dangle in our ears.

We are jetting across the country in our own little worlds.

Landing can not happen soon enough for me,

not that I want to foreshorten the flight.

I just know I have a stack of lives waiting for me

and I would like to get back to living them.

I have been a week away, a vacation for sure and true

but I have my keep to earn, my obligations are many.

I hope to have done myself proud when I am through,

but until then there is much to do.

Vlog: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OCezuhFpWTE&feature=youtu.be

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Nuzzle's Offering

November 20

NUZZLE’S OFFERING

Like a vegan kitten who wrestles long tailed leaves and twigs, subduing them and dragging these prizes to the feet of human parents, I fight paper tigers and bring the tatters as tribute to my Higher Power.  These bloodless battles are pure practice; future wars may not be as clean.  I can not enlist my God to fight these skirmishes; I would never believe in one that I could.  I accept Deus as creator and cheerleader, but champion, no.  Foliage and foes are mine to fight.  The spoils, I bring back for pats on the head and bragging.

Talk to things other than people.

*

Triumph

God and I are experience junkies;

part of why I am here is so God can take me for a ride,

but also for the treat of God tucking into the sidecar

and letting me take us out for a spin.

I am God’s audience and God is mine;

though we are not peers we are comrades.

Life is a serious business I am sure and

profit and loss are always there to be considered.

I can barely describe to you

how much being in love with my creator is a joy,

but even better is being the apple of my creator’s eye.

Vlog: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T7X9dWsE86k&feature=youtu.be

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Driveway Time

November 19

DRIVEWAY TIME

Layer after layer of blue stack the sky, the moon risen and the sun dipping away.  I wait for the twin lights, the constellation of headlights---my ride to the meeting.  It will be the entry vehicle to a world of population, leaving behind the galaxy of me, the single star. I stand silent and the feeling of fellowship carries the miles.  Laughter flies the winds of memory and all the old jokes of truth and tribute are fresh and abide with me until the car arrives and we make it all new again.

Ride a horse to a pony show.

*

Blanda

I know how good a quarterback you are

on Monday, safely at home.

What were you like on the field, game day?

You act as if seeing your mistakes in retrospect

is the same as not having made them,

but the game is lost and a rematch is not a do-over.

The score is final, whether you accept the stats or not.

Defeat does not deter my love of the game

and doesn’t diminish my affection for you,

But history has been made

and I don’t wish to repeat it.

Vlog: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-OBA7CiibNQ&feature=youtu.be

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Mail Fraud

November 18

MAIL FRAUD

The open envelope betrays the tampering I suspect.  Too bad my critics are snooping, not my supporters.  When they are finished tearing open my mail, they tear me apart as well.  Shredded, I feel unable to handle further correspondence.  I shut down communications.  There is no channel for benefactors to travel.  My champions are at a loss to defend me from my opponents; the struggle flounders.  Misunderstanding the meaning of messages, I have been mocked and enslaved.  I would love to vanquish my foes, but you see I am opening my own mail.

Ask often all the questions.

*

The Story as a Stowaway

I want to tell you a story,

but I want to tell it to you quickly,

so I can give it to you and then you can carry it

on your way, for what good is my story to you

if you must leave it where it lay?

Your need to be elsewhere presses on us both

and I wish to give you what you can take rather than

to try to stall you here for an epic you might never lift

and certainly not dream of dragging along.

I want you to be on your way

and take a part of me with you.

I wish to sew myself in your mind;

tether my tale to your soul.

I believe in forward motion and the need to carry on.

Where you’re going I can’t go on my own

but I know that if I am funny, quick and lite,

part of me goes even to the end of your world

and my hope is to help you make it bright.

Vlog: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uLoOa_Mx-CQ

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Timely

November 17

TIMELY

Spend a minute to rub the sleep gently from your eyes.

Spend an hour smoothing lotion from one end to the other.

Spend a day in tribute to the gifts you give and gifts given you.

Spend a week researching your goals, dreams and hopes.

Spend a month routing energy to a viable flow.

Spend a year studying truth.

Spend a life living it.

Your life is worth all the time you have.

Take it.

Balance doubt and dreams.

*

Human Sacrifice

How much does it have to cost me

in order for you to feel better?

Why is it that my suffering improves your mood?

Does it confirm for you that you are not alone

when you are feeling scared?

Or does it give you the sense

that at least you’re not as pitiful as me?

Is it pleading that strikes a chord,

is it the animal pain which stirs your compassion?

What about this scenario completes the cycle for you

to be able to move back to your comfort zone?

What happens if I don’t fall to pieces?

If I hold my emotions to my chest,

take them to my sponsor,

in some way keep them from your hungry eyes?

Will you move on and leave me behind?

Will you climb over the hurdle

which currently stands between us?

Or will you store away this bitter thing

like a rotten nut hidden by a Secret Squirrel?

Youtube Vlog: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z9bRzQNkulA&feature=youtu.be

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Down the Upside

November 16

DOWN THE UPSIDE

On the downside of a rising star there is too much fear.  Anticipation is recommended for ascent, delight should be encouraged, but all out alarm is usually sounded whether it is needed or not.  Panic dims the shining pleasure of mounting the sky.  Refuting celestial status, denying astral projection, I renounce myself.  Attaining height, my position in space is apparent to bystanders and onlookers.  I need to ride the comet and accept fate, my nemesis.  Fortune shines on me, I should not squint away kismet.

Expand your spiritual muscle.

*

Who is the Parent?

There are more liars in my head than anywhere else

and they will say the most errant nonsense,

making it sound totally convincing.

First of all they use other people’s inventories

to leverage me into believing

that I am just what is needed

to lift each person’s  universe from despair;

Then they insist that my life will be incomplete

until I have saved nations and secured borders,

all the while failing to mention

the deadly nature of these attempts.

None of this is a problem unless I listen.

Liars’ lying causes me no trouble

until I accept and act on this bunk.

This is where a thorough inventory saves the day.

When I am clear about the truth of who and what I am

I can’t be easily led astray.

I know I am God’s child and the resemblance can be strong,

but today that burden is not mine to carry,

so I can stay busy being me.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Deserving

November 15

DESERVING

Tender toes crushed by moving memories, fresh pain from ancient injuries, shock incurred from these lifeless reminiscences.  Unhappy reconstructions slap unsuspecting faces.  The people, who stood by to let the chips fall where they may, try to feign 'innocent bystander' now that shit is falling from the sky.  Unexposed skin will burn when the flames leap high.  Idiotic excuses will not retard the fire of injustice coming to call.  Too late tears carry no freight with the past recipients of the it all runs down hill award.  Cowards make themselves cripples and fracture at the force of incoming reality, and deserve more than they get.

Once well is a full feeling.

*

Induction

I have a massive energy transformer that lives inside me.

It is explosive in nature and risky to toy with.

But if used properly I can power my whole world

with the current which flows through it

to me from my Higher Power.

If I use it improperly

I can melt down my core and burn down my life.

The connections are of the utmost importance,

insulation is a priority as well.

I know that I am conduit and so much more.

I must do my part as the carrier and the arbiter of change.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Three Toys Floating

November 14

THREE TOYS FLOATING

I bat the ducks across the surface of my bath.  Soaking is supposed to calm me.  I’m waiting.  I assure you my impatience is no help to this process.  These yellow, tub-bound misfits grinning at me don’t fill me with the joy of living, either.  I have blown bubbles until I’m blue.  I smell like a French elevator from the bath oils.  My hair is stiff with conditioner; my face packed with mud.  “Do the right thing," said my sponsor.  She is such a pain.  Here I am bubble bath to my armpits, and not a hint of peace.  Her question rings, “What do you want?”  But isn’t it obvious?  If I knew that, what would I be doing wrinkling in this swilling vat?  I wouldn’t.  I would be out doing my ‘thing’, whatever that ‘thing’ is.  How I’m going to figure myself out I don’t know.  And ‘she’ is no help, (you know who ‘she’ is, she the sponsor lady) 

So what do I want?

World peace.       A clue.        Maybe just a hint.

But I know part of it.  I know more than I admit.

I want sobriety and happiness, dignity and respect, enough time to do these things, and love.

“Well," says she, “those things are easy.  Work the steps, then the traditions; practice them, do service, and take the advice you give to your own sponsees.”

I stick out my tongue in her general direction.

Creep toward the unknown.

*

Surfs Up

The first time I arrive at the beach the tide is a shock to me.

I had no way to anticipate it.

As the days pass I calm, realizing there is a rhythm

and that the sea won’t escape the shore.

Over time I begin to anticipate the movement

and then rely on it.

I learn to live with the in and out nature of the water

lapping the lip of sand;

What it brings and what it takes away.

I am human, I adapt, I survive.

How do I make the jump to blessing the moon?

How do I touch the divine?

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Floral Ecstasy

November 13

FLORAL ECSTASY

I could eat fields of buttercups and drink down ponds of water lilies.  Wear foxgloves and a pair of lady slippers, too.  I could wrap myself in bridal wreathe and underpin with nettles.  I could rise with the roses, lay with the lilies, shade with the sage, sing with the trumpet vines and run away from home with a Turk's cap on my head and a pansy in my pocket, until the four o’clocks say it’s time to come home for evening primrose and then bed.

Increase your tool chest by one.

*

When I’m Gone

When I’m gone ……

I hope they’ll say I tried real hard and did my best

But more likely will be the lament;

she didn’t live up to her potential.

When I’m gone ……

I pray the song will be one of tinkling bells and uplifted voices

But more likely is a disparate confusion of musical chairs.

When I’m gone ……

I wish that my banner will be raised by knowing arms

But more likely will be a shuffle of my undecipherable notes,

then the circular file.

When I’m gone ……

I would like my dreams to fly

to the ears and eyes of friends and take refuge

But more likely these dreams will chase me down the long corridor

and be nothing but my shadow in the long dark night.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Eight Mistakes Closer

November 12

EIGHT MISTAKES CLOSER

I am eight mistakes closer to perfection.  As long as I fall forward, progress is being made.  I fail meticulously toward my goal, more cannot be asked.  Loss, pain, frustration are strong teachers and great motivators.  I suck each splinter for knowledge, extracting juice from every fragment for information.  In spite of sprains and strains, I have stretched, attaining almost my full height.  Growth is a wonderful thing, though cost is always involved.  Mistakes are an unavoidable price but well worth the expense.  They are an expense that pays dividends, dividends that move me toward perfection.

Stretch your body, flex your mind.

*

Clean Underwear

The ease of the trip is often determined

by the quality of the packing.

When I am entirely ready, travel is easier.

I wash the laundry early to give myself a head start.

Lay everything out and walk through each day’s needs;

roll up my outfits and tuck each into my bag.

I try to take less than half of my ‘what if’ worry items

and cut short my ‘disaster plan’ thinking.

If I pack positive thoughts and clean panties I am fine

and if I forget them …………………

I can always pick some up along the way.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

Quilter

November 11

QUILTER

What more comfort can exist in the world than a conglomeration of turned edges and love?  Fancy stitches or not, the assembled world of cloth stands testament to devotion and diligence.  Careful collections, meaningful to the collector and mysterious to the possessor, fulfill the primal urge to shelter and be safe.  Time is testimony to endurance.  Thread against thread, solidarity is strength embracing flexibility.  The bed of life is made and remade daily with the affection of kind quilters’ needles of love.

Find a room for zeal.

*

Wrong as wrong as wrong can be

To be wrong in my family and in my past

meant to be tortured and I prefer death to torture,

so being wrong meant death or longing for death.

I tried never to be wrong

as a way to stave of the desire to leap from tall buildings;

I did not turn into superman,

wonder woman or mighty mouse through my efforts.

I did turn into someone else;

I became a cartoon of a real person,

two dimensional and overflowing with irrational color.

Now I see how wrong, wrong can be.

Wrong is not an allowable excuse to be tormented.

It can be the turning point for knowledge if I choose

or the stairway to something deep dark and ugly;

my choice, always my choice.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

I Don't See How

November 10

I DON’T SEE HOW

This is the smallest of the fragile excuses I use to keep from doing things to make me happy.  Petty in a way I would never be with others, I rake my desires and tiny little hopes over the coals.  Tired platitudes are plated up as first serves by my short order shortsightedness.  Protecting crusted-over nonsense, I live the life of a lockout, not even a squatter on the fringes of my dreams.  I stumble in my efforts to see hope, joy or my purpose, ignoring the fact that I must step from the box before I can see the horizon or more.

Rub your own head.

*

Olive Juice

For whatever the reason olives are often pitted

and once they are pit-less

there seems to rise an irresistible urge to fill that wound,

whether with pimento or children’s chubby little fingers

as they fish them from the can.

There is an opening, an answer must be found.

When I find my center gone

I have that same yearning, fill that hole!

It is an imperative,

a need that must be met no matter how poorly.

I will stuff just about anything in that gap;

the list is longer than the Bell directory

and yet none of it is an adequate replacement

for what has gone amiss.

So here I stand rife with questions.

What to put in there, what to keep out.

Is cream cheese preferred to cobwebs?

Prosciutto better than ice?

Nothing is better than some things

and the right thing is better than having given up.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life