Bouquet

June 17

BOUQUET

I love the flowers in my garden.  Their upkeep is my solemn trust.  With my shears, I must cut, clear and swift, the runners that detract from their health and structure.  When fruiting is heavy, I must spare the stalk and choose what stays and what needs to be taken.  I am scrupulous in my observation of form and function.  The bucolic scene thrives; the pageant of color sweeps the rows.  I bend to nurture and stretch to prune.  I pay over-much attention to the plucking and forget I need to bring the blooms home.

Allow a dark worldview to illuminate a lightness of spirit.

*

Tea Totaler

My alcoholism was anonymous

even while I was active.

My destruction was internal,

outside evidence kept to a minimum.

It is easy to understand why so many

from my past as well as my present

are shocked to see me a member

in good standing for a club they never saw

me pay the price to join.

But cost doesn’t always advertise in the public square.

I know the score, the numbers etched upon my soul.

I need to be well even if you didn’t know, I am sick.

I take the medicine;

offer a smile to those who think it prophylactic

and keep upon my path.

Just because you didn’t know the contents of my bottle

doesn’t mean I didn’t earn the tag on my tea.

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

Halloween

October 31

Halloween

“Why does self-centered fear wear a costume that looks so much like ‘other people’s opinion’?” I asked my sponsor.

“For the same reason that booze masquerades as ‘a good time.’  How would you ever fall into a pit which used no pretense?  Naked ambition attracts far fewer devotees than addicts of ‘must make Mama and Daddy proud’ or the ‘doing better for my kids crowd’.”

“Ambition is not all together bad!” I crow.

“Neither is fear in its proper scale, but fear cloaks itself to seize more than its share of your life, just like any parasite.  So take your spring tonic like a good kid and keep the worms at bay.”

Don’t bother licking the self stick stamps

*

FLORAL ECSTASY

I could eat fields of buttercups
And drink down ponds of water lilies.
Wear foxgloves and a pair of lady slippers
I could wrap myself in bridal wreathe
And under pin with nettles.

I could rise with the roses
Lay with the lilies
Shade with the sage
Sing with the trumpet vines

Run away from home
With a Turks cap on my head
And a pansy in my pocket
Until the four o’clock say
Its time to come home.
For evening primrose and then bed.

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

Symptomatic Bouquet

July 21

SYMPTOMATIC BOUQUET


My bouquet of symptoms took root in alcoholism. I displayed these blossoms to few. I thought I could keep these problem posies to myself. No need to worry, everyone has a bit of manure in their lives; mine will hardly seem strange. Planted in addiction, things grew in a dramatic way. Pruning became unworkable; drastic measures were required. Uprooted and exposed, these virulent stalks created the need for help from better gardeners than I. Thinned and repotted, these character traits have fruited with many a lovely harvest, none of which could have happened had I been left in the family plot.


Make your mind a womb you can return to.

Bouquet

June 17

BOUQUET



I love the flowers in my garden. Their upkeep is my solemn trust. With my shears, I must cut, clear and swift, the runners that detract from their health and structure. When fruiting is heavy, I must spare the stalk and choose what stays and what needs to be taken. I am scrupulous in my observation of form and function. The bucolic scene thrives; the pageant of color sweeps the rows. I bend to nurture and stretch to prune. I pay over-much attention to the plucking and forget I need to bring the blooms home.


Allow a dark worldview to illuminate a lightness of spirit.