Stubborn

August 5

STUBBORN

When the donkey won’t move forward it’s time to stop running.  No need to make an ass of myself through force or coercion.  The dumb animal may be mute but its actions speak.  Reluctance is a warning.  If my animal nature is balking, listening not shoving is the preferred course.  Super intelligence can’t best good horse sense.  I must stand with my intuition; that creature depends on my survival for life.

Balance your shoe with your foot.

*

What are We Fighting For

Instead of competition for dominance

we would benefit from cooperation for survival.

The struggle to become the very best destroyers in the world

very well might make us postmortem champions.

Why is it that the lions don’t work to eradiate hyenas?

They could, but they don’t.

Why not, is the ever present question on my mind.

I have no answer as to why we strive to conquer.

A thousand platitudes come to mind,

but nothing fast or tight, nothing that holds water.

So, the question remains; why are we hell bent?

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

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?

Tooth Fairy

August 2

TOOTH FAIRY

I slide my hand under the pillow and am disappointed not to find a quarter.  I feel I deserve one though I didn’t leave a tooth; I did leave my bite.  I’ve toned down my bark a bit too.  It has not been easy; I have spent much of my life snapping and growling at the world around me.  I have shortened the leash on these reactive behaviors, many I have put to bed all together.  Improved conduct is prize enough but I surely would enjoy a winged visitor if only just for fun.

Applaud your performance.

*

In Plain Sight

When there is a problem, I hide.

As the good places diminish

I end up standing behind a pole.

The trouble with this is

that something always sticks out.

I try weight loss, I suck in my tummy,

I try to blend with the scenery.

Once spotted I act nonchalant;

“I’m just hanging around with my skinny friend;

nothing is the matter,” attempting to cover

with a casual aside what is apparent to everyone but me.

I would be better off parading naked

than endeavoring this piteous disguise.

I can’t fool the crowd and trying to makes a fool of me.

What I have forgotten is that clarity and diligence

removes the target from my back

and makes me invisible to almost everyone.

When I solve my problem I solve this problem too.

Game Playing

August 1

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 candyland.  When I stick my hand in the mouse trap, or fall down the shoots and need to climb the ladders, I know the game may not be over, but it is far too late to play let’s make a deal.

Keep a game with you.

*

Porcellano

Some days I feel like a porcelain doll;

hard head, hard hands, hard feet

and everywhere else is soft, gormless.

I feel useless and act out my feelings,

stumbling through a day of pointless inactivity.

I know that I belong on a shelf

or propped upon the pillows of a bed,

not fine enough for curio or collection,

merely someone of marginal decorative value.

I have gotten away from the meaning of me,

the thrum of God’s intentions

and am trapped in this world of elaboration;

everything is embellished and nothing is real.

It is time to put my foot down.

To feel the earth solid and right;

to catch my mind and take it out

of its greasy spin from what is descent.

I am not a China doll

and it is time to walk away

from these purloined thoughts

My Babies

July 31

MY BABIES

Too often I have abandoned the infants of my creativity to doorways and charities.  Having little patience I did not raise them to their intended station.  Joyful parentage need not stop at the cutting of the cord.  Downplaying the importance of each birth, I would leave beauty and art to be foundlings and the province of others.  I can share the guardianship of these precious gifts and be more than a brood mare for cunning and craft.  I have neglected things apparent for the promise of each new conception.  Overpopulation weakens the body of my work and leaves my portfolio listless and immature.

Touch your finger with your nose.

*

Charmed by Snow

Warm weather snow falls in fat full flakes;

I am living in a world of dreams and sweet peas.

Sudden dustings sparkle and surprise

leaving as quickly as they came;

yet the world is kinder now.

Beauty is an ambush of the heart.

My breath alters, accelerates,

speeding me to a smile, an illustration of joy.

Crows walk the edge of the hedgerow,

prattling on as they do;

snow to their ankles and food on their minds.

I drive over the mountains

discovering myself as the recipient,

the receiver of all this great gift, this life.

Definitions

July 30

DEFINITIONS

I am close to my Higher Power but I have no words to describe It.  I have found it best to say nothing unless asked.  When I do speak, it is always about the path I took or the way I held my face.  I know the things that changed, and the wind that blew.  This is not the sketch most people seek.  My skin is brown and my smile broad; this is not from over-exposure to beams of light.  Closeness warms me.  I glow from standing near.  I know the face and form is different for every day; I must not stop for definitions.

Taste silence and smell the words.

*

The Acts of Hope

I cover my head when I pray

in hopes that God wants me sheltered.

I attend meetings to keep alive the hope

that sobriety is the end of isolation.

I talk to the people in my network

hoping I have something helpful to share.

I sit down to the blank page with hopes

that HP still chooses to collaborate with me.

I pick up my paintbrush filled with hope

that color is still my friend.

I inhale air along with hope that each breath

is worth the effort and I am worthy of this life.