Heart Handed

December 26

HEART HANDED

I pick up the pen in my heart hand and the blood of my soul pours onto the page.  The words coalesce and clot into the binding phrases, sealed deals with my spirit's punctuation.  Some days it is hard for my mind to keep up; the current is swift and deeper than I expect.  The pulse of energy is amazing even to the mind it feeds.  Like clouds racing the sky this power brings shade to some and rain to others.  The reaction of the moistened varies, some pull up hoods and scurry away, others with upturned faces form a friendship with me.  At the level of electrons, we have a molecular bonding, we are forever changed because I have picked up the pen and they picked up the page.

Chain yourself to wisdom.

*

Again Truth

Not wanting to speak the truth

doesn’t change the truth,

truth is funny that way,

it is not affected by my cold shoulder.

I snub it and it stands just the same.

I am the one who bends and withers.

Truth withstands the pressure that I never have,

the force of other people’s disappointment and regret.

I have sympathy or is it cowardice?

I tremble at the power of emotion and truth just carries on.

I do not want to be the truth or stand in its place;

for truth is not a beating heart

and I am too much a feeling creature,

but I will learn to keep the company of honesty and right.

And stand under the arching bough of truth,

because it is a shelter from the winds of change

and I need all the help I can get.

When I am tempted to shun truth in favor of expedience

I will try to remember that life is longer than I think

and if I don’t face the truth now

it is going to be in my face later

when I might be less prepared.

Vlog:  http://youtu.be/OeEIHBwvnnA

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

Access

August 4

ACCESS

Writing to you, my Sweet, allows me to give what I have available at the moment it comes into my possession.  You reading me lets you invite me in when you are ready or willing, possibly both.  I can store succulent treasure for you without the least consideration of freezer burn or apathy.  You are here when I want you, yearning and prepared.  I am yours for the taking in the classroom, the bedroom, or even in your bath.  I can whisper or shout to you, rant or tell jokes at you.  You can embrace or ignore me, introduce me to friends or keep me your own personal province.  We are intimates because I bare my soul to you and you take me into yours.

Recommend your assets.

*

Sleep Tight

Did you dream?

Sleep the sleep of faultless souls?

Or twist the sheets

as in that Gilbert & Sullivan treatment?

Are night time wrestlings an indication

of decadent daytime activity?

Or is it all simply a matter of happenstance?

Possibly something I ate, thought, wished for?

I think to myself,

I should not have gotten into that unmade bed,

should have made it up; the bed and my mind,

should have straighten out the crumpled mass

of discarded dreams from yesterday and started fresh

But instead  I climbed in with it all tumbled and tossed,

lumpy and coarse, no smooth sailing in this tangled sea.

What time I would have saved by leveling

the playing field and plumping the pillows.

All is not lost, there is always tonight.

Sweet dreams straight ahead

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

Sharing

August 3

SHARING

Please take a bite of my PB&J.  I made it myself.  It is fine as it is. I slathered the bread and cut it so neatly; still I can’t help but want to offer some to you.  I know that to stand and smile next to you, watch you lick the peanut butter from the roof of your mouth, have you dab the jelly from the corner of my lips, will make this sandwich even better.  You bring so much to this meal, something bright and so clever.  You bring you. I can pull things together and set it all up but somehow my creation is never quite complete until I share it with you.

Withhold a convoy of criticism, advance a brigade of cheer.

*

Big Name

My name has a foreign sound;

my head turns when it is called.

I recognize this as training not identity.

I remember teaching the dog her name.

I called it while petting and praising her,

soon the name was hers.

Now, I think of God.

Did we call long and loud enough

to trigger name recognition on a vast intangible?

Is this how we tagged and labeled the unknowable;

assigned it a place on a shelf;

somewhere to be called up from?

Does the noise sound as strange as the syllables

of my name sound to me?

Does it matter as long as we answer?

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

Hold the Line

July 22

HOLD THE LINE

Relax is not the same as give up.  Unwind is not fray.  Let go doesn’t mean never grab hold.  It is important to have moderation in all things including moderation.  Exuberance and enthusiasm are wonderful in their season; too much and I could get an adrenaline addiction.  Make sure your song has more than one note and make sure that you sing more than one song in your life. Change, interest and excitement are vital to my existence.  Like my sponsor says, “if you take all the spikes and ridges out of your life-line, it means you’re dead.”

Give allowance to yourself.

*

The Landscape of Words

Paint takes time to dry;

I work with words.

I say azure and you are there with me,

even if I am far from this mortal coil.

My pigments stay fresh as long as you know blue,

as long as you can hear me, read me, see me.

I paint 6X8 cell and we are imprisoned together,

trapped,

till I tell you of the key I slipped into your shoe.

I love the flow of watercolor,

adore the mushy paste of oil,

but nothing beats the world we paint

and repaint here on this page.

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

Peter and I

December 16

Peter and I

This flight is not filled with the giggling cherubs of my westerly flight, but among the solemn children on this flight is Peter, the oldest of four, who is reading Tolkien and marking his place with a two page wish list.  Christmas is coming and Peter seems confident.  I wonder if we are what we read and ponder if I am what I write.  Poetry, stories, novels, declarations, it all feels like arms and legs, things I cannot move right without.  I live better when they are out and free.  I am free too, when they live on their own and I am not their soul residence.  I have to rededicate myself to the work entrusted to me for so many lives depend upon it.

Treat a book to a day out

*

RELAPSE IS NOT REQUIRED

Relapse is not required - said my sponsor
Though at some meetings they make it seem appealing
All that ‘prodigal drunk’ treatment.

Well so far I’m living in the blessing
Of being convinced the first time- I told her
Plus what could possibly be out there
That’s better than what’s in here?

That is the point
There is so much out there that is faster and bigger
More dramatic and extreme
But I sure have never see anything better.

She patted my head and I grinned
Since I am winning the first time
Why would I want to lose?
I add just to overstate her point.

This is the perfect place for those who want it
And all the rest get drunk
But drinking is not required
Any more than Santa has to come on Christmas.

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

What I Give You

December 13

What I give you

If I give you a piece of my mind, a piece of my heart, a piece of my liver, how do I go on in its absence?  Or does it ever leave me?  Is this more like an excision than segmentation?  Is it similar to how I carry you with me when I catch a resentment; only in a good way?  I don’t know that I can be truly divided up, but I do know that parts of me don’t belong exclusively to me anymore and I believe this is all for the better. 

Zoom up to anticipation

*

HEART HANDED

I pick up the pen in my heart hand
And the blood of my soul pours onto the page.
The words coalesce and clot into binding phrases
Sealed deals with my spirits punctuation.

Some days it is hard for my mind to keep up.
The current is swift and deeper than I expect.
The pulse of energy is amazing even to the mind it feeds
.
Like clouds racing the sky this power
Brings shade to some and rain to others.
The reaction of the moistened varies.
Some pull up hoods and scurry away

Others with up turned faces form a friendship with me.
At the level of electrons, we have a molecular bonding.
We are forever changed because I have picked up the pen
And they have picked up the page.

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

Dear G-d

July 25

Dear G-d

I need help.  I need help availing myself of the help you have provided me.  I am embarrassed to lack the ability to complete all the steps necessary for achieving the goals you have set before me.  I see now that it is always my turn with you and I can stop standing aside believing that I have had your attention and must now do without.  I do not want to ask for more; I don’t want to seem greedy.  I forget that you know my heart and that you trust me.  I am going to make that a two-way street, maybe a four-lane highway.  I need help, thank you for being help full.

Love,

Sherrie

The obvious is sometimes invisible

*

ACCESS

Writing to you my Sweet,

Allows me to give what I have available

At the moment it comes into my possession.

You reading lets you invite me in,

When you are ready or willing

Possibly both.

I can store succulent treasure for you

Without the least consideration of

Freezer burn or apathy.

You are here when I want you,

Yearning and prepared

I am yours for the taking

In the classroom, the bedroom

Or even in your bath

I can whisper or shout to you.

I can rant or tell jokes to you

You can embrace or ignore me

Introduce me to your friends

Or keep me your own personal province.

We are intimates

Because I bare my soul to you

And you take me into yours.

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

Speak!

July 24

Speak!

Are there songs a bird must not sing while communing with the flock?  Do fish learn to restrain their expressions while schooling?  Or are we the only animal versed in the language of taboo?  I wonder when I hear the cows lowing in the night are they giving whispered voice to things they longed to moo about all day.  I know what to keep inside, things too flamboyant for out of doors.  I understand to keep body and soul together I must keep down and hush, but when I complain to my pup does she comprehend or is it just blah, blah, blah; in her world of speak maybe it is like it is?

If your pallet is limited broaden your ideas

*

SHARING

Please take a bite of my PB&J,

I made it myself, it is fine as it is

I slathered the bread and cut it neatly

Still I can’t help but want to offer some to you.

I know to stand and smile next to you

Watch you lick the peanut butter from the roof of your mouth

Have you dab jelly from the corner of my lips

Will make this sandwich even better.

You bring so much to this meal

Something bright and clever --you bring you.

I can pull things together and set it all up

But somehow my creation is never quite complete

Until I share it with you.

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

Head Wringing

June 4

Head Wringing

I have my say, though my fear is that I constantly repeat myself; very much the way a crow calls the same thing endlessly, but it all has different meanings to the crow.  I would offer a code key to my readers if I could lay my hands on one.  My mind whispers that the soothing people get from my work is like the calm induced by chanting monks.  Possibly it is more the actor’s trick of reading repetitive lines each time putting the emphasis on a different word; a way of squeezing all the juice from nonsense. I jot ideas swearing these lines are to be found somewhere in my previous work, perhaps whole pages are redundant.  Finally I stop this fight reminding myself I have but one voice and what I accuse myself of as similarity might merely be my style.

Find satisfaction in the middle, too

*

OPEN WINDOWS

I roll down the window in the rain

Hoping reality will soak in with the droplets

I tilt my face as I leave the car

And let the water shower my features.

The downpour is the jolt to living for which I have prayed

I stand on my lawn and rinse the day out of my hair

I clear my brain in the fresh rainwater.

The driving rain pounds the house and trees

But I feel massaged and cared for

My skin reflexive, teaches my mind to absorb and hydrate

I turn my thoughts to Greater Powers.

Even if the doors have been closed

I can open the windows

And let the rain come in.

Heart Handed

December 26

HEART HANDED

I pick up the pen in my heart hand and the blood of my soul pours onto the page.  The words coalesce and clot into the binding phrases, sealed deals with my spirit's punctuation.  Some days it is hard for my mind to keep up; the current is swift and deeper than I expect.  The pulse of energy is amazing even to the mind it feeds.  Like clouds racing the sky this power brings shade to some and rain to others.  The reaction of the moistened varies, some pull up hoods and scurry away, others with upturned faces form a friendship with me.  At the level of electrons, we have a molecular bonding, we are forever changed because I have picked up the pen and they picked up the page.

Chain yourself to wisdom.

*

Again Truth

Not wanting to speak the truth

doesn’t change the truth,

truth is funny that way,

it is not affected by my cold shoulder.

I snub it and it stands just the same.

I am the one who bends and withers.

Truth withstands the pressure that I never have,

the force of other people’s disappointment and regret.

I have sympathy or is it cowardice?

I tremble at the power of emotion and truth just carries on.

I do not want to be the truth or stand in its place;

for truth is not a beating heart

and I am too much a feeling creature,

but I will learn to keep the company of honesty and right.

And stand under the arching bough of truth,

because it is a shelter from the winds of change

and I need all the help I can get.

When I am tempted to shun truth in favor of expedience

I will try to remember that life is longer than I think

and if I don’t face the truth now

it is going to be in my face later

when I might be less prepared.

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.

Access

August 4

ACCESS

Writing to you, my Sweet, allows me to give what I have available at the moment it comes into my possession.  You reading me lets you invite me in when you are ready or willing, possibly both.  I can store succulent treasure for you without the least consideration of freezer burn or apathy.  You are here when I want you, yearning and prepared.  I am yours for the taking in the classroom, the bedroom, or even in your bath.  I can whisper or shout to you, rant or tell jokes at you.  You can embrace or ignore me, introduce me to friends or keep me your own personal province.  We are intimates because I bare my soul to you and you take me into yours.

Recommend your assets.

*

Sleep Tight

Did you dream?

Sleep the sleep of faultless souls?

Or twist the sheets

as in that Gilbert & Sullivan treatment?

Are night time wrestlings an indication

of decadent daytime activity?

Or is it all simply a matter of happenstance?

Possibly something I ate, thought, wished for?

I think to myself,

I should not have gotten into that unmade bed,

should have made it up; the bed and my mind,

should have straighten out the crumpled mass

of discarded dreams from yesterday and started fresh

But instead  I climbed in with it all tumbled and tossed,

lumpy and coarse, no smooth sailing in this tangled sea.

What time I would have saved by leveling

the playing field and plumping the pillows.

All is not lost, there is always tonight.

Sweet dreams straight ahead

Hold the Line

July 22

HOLD THE LINE

Relax is not the same as give up.  Unwind is not fray.  Let go doesn’t mean never grab hold.  It is important to have moderation in all things including moderation.  Exuberance and enthusiasm are wonderful in their season; too much and I could get an adrenaline addiction.  Make sure your song has more than one note and make sure that you sing more than one song in your life. Change, interest and excitement are vital to my existence.  Like my sponsor says, “if you take all the spikes and ridges out of your life-line, it means you’re dead.”

Give allowance to yourself.

*

The Landscape of Words

Paint takes time to dry;

I work with words.

I say azure and you are there with me,

even if I am far from this mortal coil.

My pigments stay fresh as long as you know blue,

as long as you can hear me, read me, see me.

I paint 6X8 cell and we are imprisoned together,

trapped,

till I tell you of the key I slipped into your shoe.

I love the flow of watercolor,

adore the mushy paste of oil,

but nothing beats the world we paint

and repaint here on this page.

Dear G-d

July 25

Dear G-d

I need help. I need help availing myself of the help you have provided me. I am embarrassed to lack the ability to complete all the steps necessary for achieving the goals you have set before me. I see now that it is always my turn with you and I can stop standing aside believing that I have had your attention and must now do without. I do not want to ask for more; I don’t want to seem greedy. I forget that you know my heart and that you trust me. I am going to make that a two-way street, maybe a four-lane highway. I need help, thank you for being help full.

Love,

Sherrie

The obvious is sometimes invisible

*

ACCESS

Writing to you my Sweet,

Allows me to give what I have available

At the moment it comes into my possession.

You reading lets you invite me in,

When you are ready or willing

Possibly both.

I can store succulent treasure for you

Without the least consideration of

Freezer burn or apathy.

You are here when I want you,

Yearning and prepared

I am yours for the taking

In the classroom, the bedroom

Or even in your bath

I can whisper or shout to you.

I can rant or tell jokes to you

You can embrace or ignore me

Introduce me to your friends

Or keep me your own personal province.

We are intimates

Because I bare my soul to you

And you take me into yours.

Speak!

July 24

Speak!

Are there songs a bird must not sing while communing with the flock? Do fish learn to restrain their expressions while schooling? Or are we the only animal versed in the language of taboo? I wonder when I hear the cows lowing in the night are they giving whispered voice to things they longed to moo about all day. I know what to keep inside, things too flamboyant for out of doors. I understand to keep body and soul together I must keep down and hush, but when I complain to my pup does she comprehend or is it just blah, blah, blah; in her world of speak maybe it is like it is?

If your pallet is limited broaden your ideas

*

SHARING

Please take a bite of my PB&J,

I made it myself, it is fine as it is

I slathered the bread and cut it neatly

Still I can’t help but want to offer some to you.

I know to stand and smile next to you

Watch you lick the peanut butter from the roof of your mouth

Have you dab jelly from the corner of my lips

Will make this sandwich even better.

You bring so much to this meal

Something bright and clever --you bring you.

I can pull things together and set it all up

But somehow my creation is never quite complete

Until I share it with you.

The Landscape of Words

July 22

The Landscape of Words

Paint takes time to dry; I work with words. I say azure and you are there with me, even if I am far from this mortal coil, my pigments stay fresh as long as you know blue, as long as you can hear me, read me, see me. I paint 6X8 cell and we are imprisoned together, trapped, til I tell you of the key I slipped into your shoe. I love the flow of watercolor, adore the mushy paste of oil, but nothing beats the world we paint and repaint here on this page.

Explain why frogs don’t have wings

*

GAME PLAYING

My Higher Power doesn’t play me like a board game.

Doesn’t monopolize my time or put me in jeopardy.

My trouble is my own.

I pursue trivia at my discretion.

I take or reject risk at will.

I scrabble my thoughts and am sorry when I make mistakes

.

But don’t expect to live in a candy land.

When I stick my hand in a mouse trap

Or fall down shoots and need to climb up ladders.

I know the game may not be over

But it is far too late to play let’s make a deal.

Peter and I

December 16

Peter and I

This flight is not filled with the giggling cherubs of my westerly flight, but among the solemn children on this flight is Peter, the oldest of four, who is reading Tolkien and marking his place with a two page wish list. Christmas is coming and Peter seems confident. I wonder if we are what we read and ponder if I am what I write. Poetry, stories, novels, declarations, it all feels like arms and legs, things I cannot move right without. I live better when they are out and free. I am free too, when they live on their own and I am not their soul residence. I have to rededicate myself to the work entrusted to me for so many lives depend upon it.

Treat a book to a day out

*

RELAPSE IS NOT REQUIRED

Relapse is not required - said my sponsor
Though at some meetings they make it seem appealing
All that prodigal drunk treatment.

Well so far I’m living in the blessing
Of being convinced the first time- I told her
Plus what could possibly be out there
That’s better than what’s in here?

That is the point
There is so much out there that is faster and bigger
More dramatic and extreme
But I sure have never see anything better.

She patted my head and I grinned
Since I am winning the first time
Why would I want to lose?
I add just to overstate her point.

This is the perfect place for those who want it
And all the rest get drunk
But drinking is not required
Any more than Santa has to come on Christmas.

Dear G-d

July 25

Dear G-d

I need help. I need help availing myself of the help you have provided me. I am embarrassed to lack the ability to complete all the steps necessary for achieving the goals you have set before me. I see now that it is always my turn with you and I can stop standing aside believing that I have had your attention and must now do without. I do not want to ask for more; I don’t want to seem greedy. I forget that you know my heart and that you trust me. I am going to make that a two-way street, maybe a four-lane highway. I need help, thank you for being help full.

Love,

Sherrie

The obvious is sometimes invisible

*

ACCESS

Writing to you my Sweet,

Allows me to give what I have available

At the moment it comes into my possession.

You reading lets you invite me in,

When you are ready or willing

Possibly both.

I can store succulent treasure for you

Without the least consideration of

Freezer burn or apathy.

You are here when I want you,

Yearning and prepared

I am yours for the taking

In the classroom, the bedroom

Or even in your bath

I can whisper or shout to you.

I can rant or tell jokes to you

You can embrace or ignore me

Introduce me to your friends

Or keep me your own personal province.

We are intimates

Because I bare my soul to you

And you take me into yours.

The Landscape of Words

July 22

The Landscape of Words

Paint takes time to dry; I work with words. I say azure and you are there with me, even if I am far from this mortal coil, my pigments stay fresh as long as you know blue, as long as you can hear me, read me, see me. I paint 6X8 cell and we are imprisoned together, trapped, til I tell you of the key I slipped into your shoe. I love the flow of watercolor, adore the mushy paste of oil, but nothing beats the world we paint and repaint here on this page.

Explain why frogs don’t have wings

*

GAME PLAYING

My Higher Power doesn’t play me like a board game.

Doesn’t monopolize my time or put me in jeopardy.

My trouble is my own.

I pursue trivia at my discretion.

I take or reject risk at will.

I scrabble my thoughts and am sorry when I make mistakes

.

But don’t expect to live in a candy land.

When I stick my hand in a mouse trap

Or fall down shoots and need to climb up ladders.

I know the game may not be over

But it is far too late to play let’s make a deal.

The Call

August 30

THE CALL

Within the sound of your voice
I sing
In the beat of your heart
I heal
I feel in your touch
And dance when your toe starts to tap
I see myself in your beauty
I warm inside your embrace
Your thoughts are my inspiration
Your lungs breathe me in and blow me out
I soar in your flight
And dream in your waking
I ring in your ears
Fall with your tears
I’m lost in you
Found in you
Travel and lounge in you
I share all your rantings
And hide in your secrets
You hear and caress me
My darling
You know who I am


Return to an old joy for a visit.