Three Card Monty

March 15

Three Card Monty

When I learn to excel at the good games and learn to leave the bad ones alone I think I will be all right.  Simple enough to do when I can take off this blindfold and see the long term consequences of my pursuits.  Engage this pastime and have no future; abandon that play and squander hope.  Eyes open wide, I see what there is to see, but around the corner I am lost for anticipatory sight and must guess at destinations let alone intention.   Tricky, tricky, is this life which toys with me.  I think I have the bow in hand, though as life rubs me wrong then right, I see I am played upon as much and as often as I play.  I take up the reins, but must also be led, I can lay out the deal, but sometimes, I just have to roll the dice.

Speak with your friends

*

ANGLE OF RETURN

As in a hall of mirrors, it is sometimes hard to tell
If I am moving forward in my recovery
Likewise, as promises are fulfilled
Their obtuse arrival is a quandary

The juxtaposition of acute homecoming
Of former faculties is also startling
How the light reflects itself from sober face to sober face
From open heart to open mind, is the spectral of hope to me.

My soul seeks me day after day
Though I left it so far behind
It brings to me the person of God's intent
And my new acquaintance.

Patience, never my virtue, finds me stacked with packages
Delivered in piles so high I can't keep up with opening them
Never in my life have I known less about my future
Or felt more assured.

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

http://www.amazon.com/More-Sober-The-Way-Sane/dp/144141231X/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1374072329&sr=8-3&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/Lines-My-Life-Sherrie-Theriault/dp/1448652820/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374072576&sr=1-1&keywords=Lines+from+my+life%2C+Sherrie+theriault

Control

November 4

CONTROL

I have everything in the world but control and yet it seems to be the only thing I yearn for.  Past history has made it difficult for me to have faith and I have clung to scraps of control as an alternative.  I have hope but I have hope in the way a disgruntled gambler has hope.  The horse may cross the finish line first but it’s a long shot.  This is the trouble with control.  If I could ride the horse, I might be able to exert some sway in the situation, but since my jockeying would only make things worse, my inability to secure the outcome leads me to despair and here I am.  I am not in the race.  I will not risk betting on the horse.  I have no skill accepting the capricious nature of life and work hard not to be capricious myself.  This maybe the crux of my problem; I work so hard to do things right instead of having fun.  I try constantly to keep things from going badly; I focus no time on creating joy in my life.  I may not believe much, but I do believe God wants me happy.  This could be the seed, which starts faith.

Feel free to laugh.

*

Natural Law

The boat captain can’t change the river;

navigate it possibly,

but rule it never.

Birds don’t control the wind,

only capitalize on it.

I can’t reign my sobriety,

I just get to take the ride.

My choices greatly affect the quality of this journey

but not the nature of recovery itself.

I am powerless over gravity

but am thrilled at my ability to use it to my advantage.

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

Waiting for the Recovery of Others

October 23

WAITING FOR THE RECOVERY OF OTHERS

I sit on my hands and wait for these bright pennies to earn the lessons of time.  I dance my little dance and move on, dropping the pretense of patience.  I search other forests, fields, and meetings and encounter many fine plums, though none are the gems incubating at home.  I make acceptance my goal and breathe through my days.  I watch the bulbs ripen and bloom.  I wonder at their beauty, inhale their sweetness.  I have lost track of my personal progress.  I behold, with charmed dismay, the open chasm before me.  I must turn from the flowers and let the new lessons begin.

Don’t show your broken places to everyone, but do show them to someone.

*

Spectrum

The quality of the poetry

is so dependent on the quality of the lighting.

Improve the color palette and yes, you’ve guessed the result.

So, I say to you, “Turn up the lights.

Do not write in half-dark grief and limp through the words.

Spotlight what you can and illuminate the rest.

You needn’t make a sound,

needn’t pitch a tent, needn’t build a bridge,

though you may, may if you wish.

And wish is what I do, wish for better light

and when the clouds break loose in the sky let the sun pour in.

I lift my pen and make it all;

for what was needed was this better light.”

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

What is Past

October 5

WHAT IS PAST

The past cannot hold me in a loving embrace.  I run too often looking for affection and recognition in things long dead and purportedly buried.  I return to the ghoulish obsession of digging up old hates and sorrows, longing for support and finding only the cause of the ulcers in my soul.  I wallpaper the crumbling facade not wanting to cover it up but to hold it together, trying to unify something, which is totally shattered.  When I view it with a sober eye, the past is nothing but a slideshow under a strobe light.  The pulse triggers the impulsive belief that it was all real when, in truth, it was the lie I survived.  No life existed in the past and only now is there air to breathe.  The past is all vacuum and I don’t need to be sucked away.

Take an enemy’s inventory and don’t give it back.

*

MCBuddLake

Barefoot smokers sit downstairs

chatting on cell phones as I wait.

Wait for the Doctor to come and tell me what?

Tell me that I am ill or hale

based on a hammer hit on the knee

and a deep look into my eyes.

I will leave this place hours late

for a life I barely understand

but am grateful to be living.

Like one of the dancing flowers from Fantasia

I am swept downstream,

but it’s an amazing journey even while I wait

in this six by eight room.

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

How Ever You Can

August 21

HOW EVER YOU CAN

I heard, “let go with love.”

“You know how to do that?” asked my sponsor.

“No, that’s why I’m here to see you, but it sure sounds like something I should do.”

“Well, in a perfect world maybe we can all do it that way, but for now let go with a mean look in your eye.  Let go with rage in your heart.  Let go with words boiling on your tongue.  Let go with the butter knife up to its hilt in the jelly jar.  Let go standing at the sink wishing for some other life.  Let go as a reflex.  Let go as an anthem, as a prayer, as a declaration.  Let go even when you don’t feel you are holding on any more.  At the same time hold on to what’s important: your recovery, your Higher Power and your sense of humor."

Fly in your dreams.

*

Hang on or Dance

Because I felt ‘outcomes’ slipping through my fingertips

I dug in with my nails, I schemed, plotted, worried, whined.

Lack of power was my problem I thought,

but what it came down to was, failure to acknowledge… accept…

failure to surrender to the reality of powerlessness.

The only thing I learned from resistance

was an intimate knowledge of futility.

When I embraced truth… the facts…

when I live with the gravity of masses not fight against it;

I began to enjoy the weather,

knowing I did not pull the clouds or push the storm.

I’m back in the dance of people moving about me,

all keeping with the time, it is not mine to keep.

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

Reclamation Artist

June 27

RECLAMATION ARTIST

I stand over the refuse can and peer in; I drive slowly past the piles of curbside discards.  I have so much trouble accepting there is no reclaiming most of this ever-growing mass.  There must be an alternate plan but I can’t see it yet.  I surround myself with hopeful stacks and wishful trinkets.  I want to make a new world from the old, save past relationships and make them somehow fresh.  I don’t want to drown.  I fear I can’t think fast enough to keep the wave from breaking over us all.  I will maintain an open mind and be grateful my life was retrieved from the dustbin.  I’ll steal peeks at what has been put out for lost.  I was once lost, too.

Read your favorite book one page a day.

*

When I rise up and when I lay down

In order to be happy with you

I have to learn to be happy without you.

I gasp at the pain of it

I desperately wish that the above statement were not true,

but alas, you are gone in a way that I can never reclaim you

and to hold on to what of you is still tentatively available

I must release my frightened grasp.

A wisp of smoke is not the bonfire of our past,

but it is what remains and I breathe it in as best I can.

Immediately I realize I am holding on again.

I breathe you out, let you go.

I want to run screaming throwing you from my bonds,

yet another of my attempts at control.

So, now it’s time to pray.

Not a prayer to get my way, not a prayer to make you stay,

not a prayer to make you gone, just a prayer to live on my own.

God help me please to live my life,

Please guide me away from strife.

I am lost and cannot find my way,

Father, hold me till the light of day.

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

Transitions

May 5

TRANSITIONS

During the months of winter, the trees stand tall and leafless---static in their appearance, frozen in direction.  The insurgence of spring brings to life the truth.  The buds and flowers show the draw of their owners---the pull of life from the earth and sky.  Other trees have begun to restore the gifts so graciously given.  These leafless giants open themselves as home and sustenance to the surrounding community---returning favors and flavors, coming to terms with wholeness.  Celebrations of all I have call for me to give it all back, even during the time when we all look the same.

Always step out of the spotlight before it burns you.

*

Pinocchio as a Girl

I should be painting today

instead of reframing the future,

an unnecessary and ephemeral job at best.

Kind of like lassoing an unborn colt,

I try to put a rope around something that cannot get away.

Outcome hasn’t much to do with foregone conclusion

and wouldn’t I be better mixing colors and wetting brushes

than cutting slices from a pie in the sky?

But tomorrow seems more spacious than this crowded present

and I con myself into believing this is a harmless trip to the fair.

I lose my light, my thought, my sight with these thieving sojourns;

leaving me to creak around because all that is left is wood.

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

Crumpled Petals in my Pocket

April 23

CRUMPLED PETALS IN MY POCKET

I can’t bring back the bloom.  Cohesion, lost in ripeness, is left only to memory.  I carry home the parts, folded, petite, fragrant bedding for my wistful desires.  I put these colored remnants into a jar of salt.  I make an aromatic rub for the sweetest of wounds.  Transforming the parts to useful duty doesn’t restore the flower.  It doesn’t pay tribute to the past; it is survival.  I have a mind filled with roses but I must make hay.  Today, I live.  Today, the rose is dead, its pieces in my pocket.  I don’t die with the blossom, though my head blows in the wind.  The rose runs its course. I run mine.

Line your clouds with anything you like.

*

Coming Home to Work

I have arrived home to a beehive;

everyone industrious,

everyone filled with purpose,

everything buzzing right along.

My response to this of course is anger.

I have a sting and I want to use it.

I have a place it falls into yet I fear falling.

The living world is now opened to me,

but my destination had been death for so long

that the prospect of diligence ignites steel blue fury.

I divide my time between gratitude and rage.

I want to accuse myself, rescue myself,

then I remember everyone in this place too

has a buzz, a stripe and a stinger.

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

Claw Marks

April 18

CLAW MARKS

There is a brackish river whose current changes direction twice a day.  Its bed is well washed on every side.  It begs the question: which way is downhill?  There are times I struggle uphill in both directions.  There are times I slip from every slope.  What was up is often down.  Judgment of topography requires distance.  Scaling the surface takes tenacity.  I plan on leaving my mark as I go, life’s residue staining my fingertips.

Design caution signs for your emotions.

*

What I Take from Laban’s House

If I have the audacity to have a problem

I must provide the instantaneous solution

or be the cause of world-wide panic.

Additionally it is the height of rudeness

to have open-ended dilemma.

It makes the gods uncomfortable,

makes them shift in their seats

and wish me away.

I prevent banishment

by either being problem free

or solution-full

When the answers are not to their liking

I exile myself saving them the inconvenience

and me the embarrassment.

It is never good to implode the household deities,

you never know when you might need one

for historic perspective or a door stop.

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

Willing Piecrust

April 13

WILLING PIECRUST

I lay the crust of my will over the pie plate of God’s will for me.  I must have the willingness to trim off the excesses.  I hesitate; I worked hard to roll it out.  I know from past experience, when hot issues come up, these tags and hangings-on burn and drop sometimes ruining the flavor and appearance of the whole.  It is easier to cut loose the things outside God-given intent.  I get the pie in its entirety when I crimp and bend to the shape of my life.

Hope is free, so spread it around.

*

Chickens and Eggs

Who is more sober

the early riser or the long-timer?

How do we get here and what does it mean.

It all starts with a day, which is good

because this is more than we had hoped for,

sometimes more than we could do.

Then it moved into an ever escalating game

of can you beat this, each day an improvement

over what had been accomplished the day before.

For years the standard bearer is the pain or relief

of the very first in this string,

orbs of 24, yet here stands the question,

“Is the essence the last pearl you touch

or the total of the strand, which makes it real?”

I don’t know for sure.

Sobriety is like light;

is light made up of waves or is it made up of particles

and the answer is invariably yes, for it is.

And what you need and how you look at it

seems to make the determination,

scientific method or no

The watched is affected by the watcher and vice versa.

The end is a day round and imperfect as any

and what is strung between the beginning and the end

is what you’ve made of it.

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

Missing

March 23

MISSING

The good times we never had but should have, the pleasantries I endured waiting for the pleasure.  I remembered your potential with fondness.  The days, weeks and years I waited for you to grow to me have passed, and yet--- time is what I have, not you.  Hope is a wonderful thing until it turns on me and bites.  Images I built have tumbled and colors wash from your portrait.  I carefully remind myself it’s the idea of you I miss, not you.

Practice your manners on yourself.

*

Water Buddha

The longer on the river I am

the less I fear the river.

I still don’t know what lay ahead,

anything may wait for me

just around the next bend,

but I fear this less and less.

Experience is a great foundation

no matter what you are building

or in which direction.

I’ve gotten my sea-legs,

a sure sign of the mind cooperating

with the realities the body is experiencing.

I have learned to avoid some forms of trouble

and anticipate fortune more often.

Further on could be a waterfall, ocean or dam;

I will contend with any or all, come what may,

for when it comes to riding the river

I have learned the most important thing:

I don’t need to push.

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

Friends

March 13

FRIENDS

My sweet, dear, funny friend, steeped in Beat, whose hand I can no longer hold.  I yearn for the wildly flying words, like feathers in a snow.  The shock of hair and glinting eyes I see so clearly in my shivering mind.  I must let go.  I miss all the friends who for reason or no have traveled down the yellow brick spiral to who knows where.  My arms feel open and starved but there is no way for me to retain myself and follow them.  Some are lost all together; some are lost only to me but my arms remain empty nonetheless.  My ruined heart is sore and sad but chasing this friend or that will not heal it.  The lonely path before me is the answer for me, possibly only for me among our former group.  And will the paths cross later in this day or the next?  I don’t know and am better not knowing.  My path requires me to release outcomes as well as kindred.  I must travel with my arms open; some fall out of them and others find their way in.

Organize a loophole and escape through it.

*

Three Card Monty

When I learn to excel at the good games

and learn to leave the bad ones alone

I think I will be alright.

Simple enough to do when I can take off this blindfold

and see the long term consequences of my pursuits.

Engage this pastime and have no future;

abandon that play and squander hope.

Eyes open wide, I see what there is to see,

but around the corner I am lost for anticipatory sight

and must guess at destinations, let alone intention.

Tricky, tricky, is this life which toys with me.  I

I think I have the bow in hand,

though as life rubs me wrong then right,

I see I am played upon as much and as often as I play.

I take up the reins, but must also be led,

I can lay out the deal,

but sometimes I just have to roll the dice.

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

Pictures and Frames

March 9

PICTURES AND FRAMES

I paint my way into the corners of the frame.  Each picture I fill diligently, color, texture, all the tricks I use.  I work hard to get the desired effect.  I hold nothing back; I put heart and hopes forward.  I load my brush with pigment; I propel my tongue out of my mouth.  I use it for balance like a kangaroo uses its tail.  Stroke after stroke, I layer the image.  My depiction is fresh to me.  I bring the green, the red, the blue, blue, blues; all of those flow from me.  The canvas fills; my soul soars through the tinctures.  Then the disappointment begins, the complaint and lamentations.  The perspective is off.  I can’t seem to contain this scene within the confines of this gilded prison.  I re-adjust.  I tilt my head; I paint from the bottom up, then the top down.  No, no.  I must pick up a new canvas, the frame oak, burnished and honeyed brown.  I cast to the side the gilt and sculptured casing; I lay it along the wall with the others, the many discards of life.  As yet, the obvious has escaped me; the tint, the hue, angle, size may diverge but that is all.  I have recreated the same scene in all the frames.  In all my attempts, I have painted only one picture.

Learn your process.

*

Résistance

Resisting tough love

is approaching long run action

with short run thinking.

I hate to set the toddling babe down lest he fall,

but in the end if I do not put him down

he and I will both be the worse for it.

Whether I see a forest or I see trees

depends so very much on my perspective,

also on my willingness to delay

the prevention of minor scrapes

to eliminate the need for permanent scaring.

The theme is greater personal responsibility

and less irrational fear.

Guarding tomorrow’s possibilities

by not hamstringing them today

through the resistance of tough love

saves lives, it saves mine.

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

Coming to the Table

February 23

COMING TO THE TABLE

For many years, decades even, I stacked the table against myself and others.  I piled the sacred next to trifles; I deposited item after item and built towers to confusion.  After years of sobriety, I sorted the piles in earnest.  I made a place for myself at the table.  It is amazing what I can accomplish with a seat and a surface.  Over months, tediously separating the needed from the useless, I made a place for others at the table. There is a whole world of life I had missed while trying to keep myself safe from unrealistic expectations---expectations of who I am and what I can do, what I should do and who I should do it for. 

Having strong boundaries and a clean table is like a homecoming.  I am coming home to me. The good games and happy meals had at this table are unexpected and surely welcome.  The wall I built held good times at bay because I could not keep the flood of trash from spilling in from every direction. I had to learn to hold my head up before I could look around.

Invent a new language to talk to yourself in.

*

Ace

Like an ace in my pocket

step one is the beginning

and end of my step work.

This step carries the high and low count;

its rise is so near to the ground

I didn’t have to lift my chin to clear it

as I crawled my way in here,

Its appeal so exalted that it is all I hear

when I finish the twelfth

and am on my way back around.

the high and low of any hand.

Plus the card I keep up my sleeve for emergencies.

The greatest blessing is I don’t need four of a kind,

not even a pair; as long as I have step one.

I am guaranteed a full house, full heart and full life

between you and me that’s just how I like it.

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

Time is Here to Stay

February 20

TIME IS HERE TO STAY

I have passed my days emptying them like breadcrumbs onto a trail of rescue.  Expecting them to facilitate redemption, and if not that, at least retreat, I release an audible sigh as I let each evening slip to the path behind me.  The future I view as a cliff I am nearing.  I hope to be ransomed before the edge.  I plan carefully how to stay in sync with revision; things must be resolved and revert.  But this is not the way.  The past is there to be mined.  Inert gold, as well as land mines, linger beneath the surface; the days stream on.  I am not nearing the limit; I am shrinking from hope.  I turn my eyes from expectancy with a shudder.  Deeply, I realize I must leave my fairytale life and walk away with my days in my pocket, a treasure that is mine to spend.

Tie a string around your hopes then let them go.

*

Katie’s Wish

Does G-d arrange for my parking spot,

foil the Colts opponents,

release the stains from my dry-cleaning?

Can I ask for the petty and pedantic?

All One G-d Faith,

reads the side of the soap bottle,

but really is there only one?

Like Santa?  The Tooth Fairy?  OZ?

Is my life better or worse for the whimsy?

How would I know?  Why would I care?

As long as I live with what I get most times,

it truly is okay to ask for what I want sometimes,

I mean hell, the Superbowl is only once a year.

I’m allowed to be unreasonable and happy.

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

Spruce

January 2

SPRUCE

The gum that grows in trees and trickles down bark, that is harvested and chewed, spit out and sticks to shoes, is the very stuff that mimics my life.  I race with vitality, burst my confines, am ruminated and masticated by various onlookers and then adhere myself to anyone I feel will carry me to a more advantageous venue.  I needn’t apologize for my fluid nature or viscosity.  I am just as I should be, always where and what I am, and at the same time, on my way to somewhere and something else.

Make a collage from junk mail

*

GOOD AS GOLD

Just because I’m as good as gold

Doesn’t mean that I win the prize.

Doesn’t mean I get my way.

Doesn’t mean I gain your heart.

Being ‘extra special sweetness and light girl’

Doesn’t secure my future.

It does prevent me from living my life

as someone I don’t like.

It contents me to keep my own company.

It is a huge improvement over living

as the raging fury I once was.

Any destination I desire is more readily assessable

from this amiable posture;

in spite of inexpert yearning.

I can breathe past you if must be.

Walk down the road holding my own hand

instead of holding a lung full of air.

But I am the treasure.

You must earn me never capture me.

Appreciate me not devalue me.

I’m good as gold.

And please know that I am the prize.

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

Crazy Time

December 19

Crazy Time

Picking the right time to be crazy seems to be the key to getting away with it.  Wanting to get away with it slants the field a tad.  What crazy is changes from place to place, which puts all the more emphasis on the timing.  The surrounding company and barometric pressure play parts and put on airs.  Lighting, lighting must also be involved, I assure you I don’t know how and can’t calculate the Ohms, but I flip the switches in case it helps.  I have mapped for you a fair amount more than I know.  I wish you well on your attempt, for crazy is a kindred club, I would hate for you to feel inept.

Admire your friends

*

THE FIRST FATHER

The rest of what I have to say
I will slip under your gravestone.
If I have time after I buy the red dress.

To say I hate you is an overstatement.
I only detest what I know of you
The rest I leave to other people
Who might have the misfortune to cross your path.

Your unavailability can protect you
From anything I could ever do to you.
Your hurt and arrogance is far worse punishment.
If I thought you were worth the energy of an attempt.

Having to be you every day must make it hard
To leave the bed in the morning.
I know I couldn’t do it if I had to
Drag your baggage around all day.

The sad part is I’m not sure you know it’s baggage.
You might think it’s armor
But your misnaming of everything
Is just another of the things I never miss about you.

Which is why although I pray every day
For your wellbeing for the sake of mine
If I never see you again
It might just be long enough.

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

http://www.amazon.com/More-Sober-The-Way-Sane/dp/144141231X/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1374072329&sr=8-3&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/Lines-My-Life-Sherrie-Theriault/dp/1448652820/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374072576&sr=1-1&keywords=Lines+from+my+life%2C+Sherrie+theriault

At the Dodge

December 2

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!

Write a poem on your foot

*

GOOSE

I round this corner nearly every day.
There in the field stand a flock of problems,
Pecking the ground and flopping their wings.

Uniform and regular, the honking and squawking
Is undistinguishable from yesterday.

I ponder and squint, are these the same
Or yet another gaggle making their way
Along the migratory path?

Trouble is feral, skulking the edges of the field
But never sheltering in the yard.
I must leave my hands off
Knowing these are not mine.

The feathers fly and I gather the strays
Acutely aware of the ticklish nature of this.

Awkwardly I face the truth
No matter how much of a perplexity this is to me
Or others, it is only geese.

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

http://www.amazon.com/More-Sober-The-Way-Sane/dp/144141231X/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1374072329&sr=8-3&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/Lines-My-Life-Sherrie-Theriault/dp/1448652820/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374072576&sr=1-1&keywords=Lines+from+my+life%2C+Sherrie+theriault

Generational River

November 22

Generational River

The history in my genes have cut a channel in the rock of existence; I pour through it everyday.  I too change the face of life one grain at a time, though I rarely recognize my affect I am so busy running.  Damns, ponding, acts of G-d leave their marks for future readings, but I keep moving.  The water is never the same twice; it changes even more than the mineral face and yet its liquid life looks more than unchanged from a distance and is a world filled with variety up close.  Circle the globe, the sun, the sands of time, the river of life flows from here to there and back again.

Bake pies to warm the crisp apples

*

CARGO LOST, CARGO FOUND

I fill the pallet of a New Years sobriety
And when it has been accomplished
Make a manifest and strap this pallet
With the others on the flatbed of my life.

The cargo is secure and weighty
And there is ample pressure
Where the rubber meets the road.
I maneuver my rig carefully.

I feel assured as I stream
With the traffic on the byways.
The power and magnitude of my transport
Prompts in me over confidence.

I fail to realize variation
In weather or road conditions
Can jeopardize my journey.
Eighteen wheels make for poor cantilever
When traction is lost and top heavy wins out.

In losing the battle of gravity,
Inertia and control, I realize the past
Is not a weight I need to haul.
All that is necessary is the inventory.

I slip the pages into my pocket
And walk the rest of the way.
I am my only freight.

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

http://www.amazon.com/More-Sober-The-Way-Sane/dp/144141231X/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1374072329&sr=8-3&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/Lines-My-Life-Sherrie-Theriault/dp/1448652820/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374072576&sr=1-1&keywords=Lines+from+my+life%2C+Sherrie+theriault

Canine Comprehension

October 22

Canine Comprehension

I wonder what it is that the dog knows.  True love, quantum physics, the ratio of lift to thrust required to make the ball fly, how food shared from my plate is better than food from her bowl.  This begs the next question.  What do I really know; song lyrics, nursery rhymes, old scores from old grudges?  What I hope I have learned; is the space it takes to keep an open mind, the willingness required to make a real change, and the width, depth and breath of honest affection.  If I haven’t learned these things I will put them at the top of my list of things to do.  Because I believe I can teach this old dog a few new tricks.

Not all friends are friendly

*

CONTROL

I have everything in the world but control
And yet it seems to be the only thing I yearn for.
Past history has made it difficult for me to have faith
And I have clung to scraps of control as in alternative.

I have hope but I have hope in a way
A disgruntled gambler has hope.
The horse may cross the finish line first
But it’s a long shot.

This is the trouble with control, if I could ride the horse
I might be able to exert some sway in the situation
But since my jockeying would only make things worse
My inability to secure the outcome leads me to despair.

And here I am, I am not in the race
I will not risk betting on the horse.
I have no skill accepting the capricious nature of life
And work hard not to be capricious myself.

This may be the crux of my problem
I work so hard to do things right instead of having fun.
I try constantly to keep things from going badly
I focus no time on creating joy in my life.

I may not believe much
But I do believe God wants me happy.
This could be the seed---which starts faith.

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

http://www.amazon.com/More-Sober-The-Way-Sane/dp/144141231X/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1374072329&sr=8-3&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/Lines-My-Life-Sherrie-Theriault/dp/1448652820/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1374072576&sr=1-1&keywords=Lines+from+my+life%2C+Sherrie+theriault