Searching

This is being republished in its original form. You can read it in a very different form at ChocolateScotch.


Something missing here.

Searching to find what that might be--

Little piece of me.

Sing a song of love

Loves lost and longing for love

Sorrowful sonnet

Measured meters rhyme

Time finding time no meaning

Purposes are nil

Struggle with myself.

Looking for meaning where none.

Pushing aside fear.

Life disappoints me.

When realization hits--

ordinary me.

Special spark snuffed out.

It's brightness it's flame scary.

Better do without.

Time takes prisoners;

you, me, all of us someday.

We don't know better.

This emptiness speaks.

It's voice I don't want to hear.

Hiding from the truth

Pushing it down deep.

A special place created

no one else can see.

What is truth? Really?

If yours and mine are different

How can it be truth?

An absolution

absolutely completely.

What the hell is that?

Speaking in circles

tail chasing tail chasing me.

No one will notice.

Looking deep within

means I must open my eyes.

I don't want to see.

See, hear, think, and feel:

some of the ways we detect

when the world rings true.

Special circumstance

giving old words new meanings.

A strange kind of gift.

Something is lacking:

conviction, dedication

deliberation.

Angels feet touch down.

As they lightly tread reveal

true identity.

What of heaven? Hell?

Did Dante have gift of sight?

Will I see you there?

Blasphemous! Cry some.

Arcane dogma! Chant others.

I know where I stand.

Where? You ask of me.

Why? That's none of your business!

My faith is my own.

A woman's body

Is it hers? Or do you own?

Who gave you this right?

Why when you see me

do you only see my flaws

not my divine gifts?

There is a power

emanating from my soul.

If you look, you'll see.

Belief in your Self

so difficult to master

but necessary.

Ages old wisdom

nestles deep inside your soul.

Open your Self.  See!

To you I bare all

hopes and fears, my secret self.

Will you protect me?

Searching. Searching still.

Coming to terms with answers

that answer nothing.

Smile! Dammit!

Sometimes things are not

what they appear to be and

sometimes they just are

If you close your eyes

and listen with just your heart

you will hear the truth

You have conviction

in listing your shortcomings

what you lack is truth

Relativity

affects many things in life

not my love for you

When you feel the sun

caressing you with her warmth

feel my heart in yours

What the hell do I

need to do to make you smile?

Moon some passing cars?

Hey! Wow! Look at that!

Don't try and say you didn't.

I saw you grinning!

Poetry for a Friend

Sneaking up behind
wrapping arms fiercely around

nuzzling neck nips ear

You're instantly hard

the best form of flattery

is turning you on

As much as I want

your body, your mind, your heart

intrigue me much more

Tell me your stories

tell me your craziest dream

that's what real friends do

There's a place inside

the very center of me

where there's room for you

You won't be alone

all I hold dear have a space

hearts have no boundaries

We may write fiction

but the truth is in the words

spoken between friends

If I Sent You a Message

If I sent you
A message
Every time I thought of you
Your inbox
Would overflow
I send this message
In the stead of
Untold millions
Of sweet little thoughts
Of you, my Love.
That you may see
In front of you in words
That which I hope you feel
Every second of every day
My love for you.
If I could touch you
I would pull you into me
Wrap your body and soul
Within me and mine
Holding you forever
This distance is too great
For any physical touch
So my thoughts will have to do
for now
Always thinking of you

Harrisburg Flood of 2011

The mighty, sleeping giantess

awoke today;

stretched her liquid arms

reached out with many fingers

and embraced the world around her.

Success Guest Posts Wanted

Back on June 7th I got one of my hair-brained ideas; I decided to ask for guest posts on the subjects of Art, Creativity, and/or Inspiration. In addition to putting out the post and a few tweets, I sent out direct messages inviting creative folks I knew to participate.

The resulting posts went up on a new site called ChocolateScotch.com. As of today, there are 63 guest posts on those topics. They range from an audio response to a sonnet, to a fictionalized account of me searching for thoughts on creativity inside the mind of a friend. And while I think the possibilities for posts about art, creativity, and/or inspiration are endless, I've decided to move on and give you a new topic: success.

So tell me what "success" means to you. What is it? How do you define it? Is it lasting? Fleeting? Elusive? Possible? How do you know when you are successful? What constitutes success for you? Work? Fame? Family? Money? And, once you define it, how long till that definition changes?

You can send your thoughts (along with a short bio if you are new to Chocolate Scotch as a contributor) to DyedBrightHere (at) gmail (dot) com.

Thunder Rumbling

Thunder rumbling
in the not-too-far-and-getting-closer-every-second distance.
Long, low rumbles
vibrate through my soul;
growling like my lover.

Tension building,
waiting for the flash,
waiting for the release.
The promise of a pounding rain
rumbling from your lips.

My tears will fall first.
The pain of missing you
so complete
the thought of riding out a storm without your strength
more than I can bear.

The air around me stills,
nature gathers herself.
Breaths collected and held.
A lover's embrace
shelter enough through any storm.

Thirsty from want and wanting.
Torrential downpour painful, bruising;
wetness pounding life back in,
removing need.
Relief complete in the quiet after the storm.

I Will Survive

I still feel you
Next to me
Against me
Inside me
Arms encircling
I still hear you
Whispering to me
Telling me your thoughts
Your dreams
That you love me
Memories
Etched into my mind
Into my soul
That will exist
Through all time
Feelings
Of love
And loss
Of finding what was meant to be
And not being able to keep it
Knowing
That even dreams
And hopes
Can't make the impossible
Possible
Wishing
For more dignity
While dying
And more strength
As I am crushed
Understanding
That love hurts
That laughter heals
That anger is a preventable disease
And that I will survive

In Answer to Those

In answer to those
who would ask why
I vent things here
that many would choose to keep to themselves
out of embarrassment
or shame
because to admit to them
is to be terminally flawed
when I let these things out
I say
I am not ashamed
of myself
and my imperfections
I remove the poison
that has been my marriage
my life
from my psyche
and the storm
that is my thoughts
swirling
quiets just a little bit more
and eventually
I can sleep

Purple Globulous Green

Purple globulous green
Goo
Fighting astride
The dragon
Of death
She laughs
And sings
Songs of delirium
As she struggles
On
Rich language
Poor facts
Timeless, ageless
Synonymous
With death
Fractal geometry
Numeric metaphore
Tilting
Spinning
No sense insense
Wisdom and magic
Accompany her
As she rages
Against the machine
Aloft
Incantations
Thrown out
Defeating
The sun
And herself
Situation and approximations
Of help
And condolences
The purple unicorn
Sneers

Insomnia

A couple of years ago
I saw a doctor
Or so he purported
About my insomnia
Or how I yawned in the dark
Fitfully tossing and turning
Then bleary-eyed in the day
Forced myself to stay awake
He suggested activities
That might quiet
The freight train
chugging in my skull
Things like reading
And knitting were mentioned
Lovely, peaceful, quiet activities
Unless, like me, you just so happen
To do both of those things
An odd mix, to be sure
As your jobs (not your day job)
But job, nonetheless.
When I pointed this out to him
He was at a loss for suggestions
Of ways to turn off my brain
so, insomnia, it is.

Finally I Sleep

Spiralling down low
To that place that I go to
When I'm exhausted
When every muscle aches
And the darkness overwhelms
Time is meaningless
There is a stillness
Clawing at me, sharp fingered
But my thoughts escape
They hummingbird wing
Swirling around in the dark
Eddies of my thoughts
The rest of me drained
Bloodless, empty carcass, mine
Harvested. Empty.
I feel you with me
Coming to me in the dark
My lover, my friend
Frenzied, beating wings
Calm and still, safe in your nest
Head tucked under wing
Safe in the darkness
Sheltered in your loving arms
Finally, I sleep

Max Bell

My dear friend, Max Bell, suffered terribly from COPD. He lived somewhere on the Northern Left Coast and we never met face-to-face. He could be a cantankerous bastard but I understood why. He made me think. He made me laugh. He made me smile. And, I loved him dearly.

He had a pet hedgehog. That alone made him remarkably special to me. But beyond the simple things, he believed in fairness, equality, common decency, all of those things that would make the world a much better place.

This morning I received an email from him with the subject line, "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened."--Dr. Seuss. It was a simple message signed by his mom:

Max is no more. He left this planet last Saturday quietly without pain or fear.
In place of a memorial please hug someone or vote democratic. Either would please him.

He contributed an essay to The Creativity Blog Project that will run on August 1st. Even his bio made me laugh when I read it and I still smile every time I see it.

Max Bell is just a guy with a hedgehog, a computer, and an internet connection.

Thank you, Max, for making my life just a little bit brighter just by knowing you. I am so very happy that you are finally free from the pain you endured with such grace and so very, very sad that I can't talk to you anymore.

Love Trumps All

I see the world in colors
Rhythms, cadence, music
Light
Nothing is just black and white
And love trumps all.

Suddenly Intense

Suddenly intense
A thunderstorm crashes through
I miss you, dammit.

This space for rent:

THIS

SPACE

FOR

RENT

Not really, but I might as well since I'm not keeping my creative content here. My draft count for this site is currently at 95. I wonder if I can get the drafts to outnumber the posts before I put everything back up again on some as yet undetermined date in the too far future.

Twisting and Twirling

Twisting and twirling
My hair free from its clip
Unwinding my wetness
Finger combing and fluffing
Tresses restrained far too long
Finding a painful snag

Admitting I won't sleep
My brain has spun itself on
Rising from my temporary grave
To dance again in the light
Tits tumbling from weak restraint
Pocketful of change on the quilt

Fumbling to find any instrument
With which to scribble
What won't make sense later
Words, like my mane,
Twisting and twirling
When all I wanted was a nap.

On Freedom and copyrights

If you are a creative and a customer of Dropbox hopefully you are aware of the current brewhaha going on now. Dropbox changed their TOS (terms of service) and a stampede for the exit door ensued.

A safe, inexpensive, reliable way to back up our data in all its various forms is something just about every computer user needs. Dropbox came along and offered a wonderful solution. They are a cloud based (somewhere in the etherwebs...off site...on their virtual servers) service where you can easily upload your files to their secure servers and then access them from any location that has internet access and even more importantly, share folders with other users. Every time you save a file dropbox keeps the older versions too. So, if something happens to your file, you can always retrieve the last save or any prior versions.

As an editor, and voice actor I have found dropbox to be invaluable. Before I started using dropbox, my battery died on my laptop while open office was open. I was 3 weeks into editing a novel and the entire file was corrupted. After drying my tears, I moved the original manuscript to dropbox and started over with a new open office version that I made my notes and changes to. Every time I hit save (or the program auto saved) I knew it was safe. When collaborating across 1500 miles on an audio project, a reliable way to transfer files in raw format is critical. If I have to use email then I have to compress the file and in doing so the audio engineer or editor on the other end has a lot less information to work with. With dropbox I could share files with all the people I work with easily.

The problem with the new TOS is that the language implies that dropbox is laying claim to the copyright of everything stored in their service and can not be held responsible if they use anything in any way without the true copyright holder's permission or compensation. They are saying that by agreeing to their TOS a customer is giving them permission to use their copyrighted material and also that the person putting it on their service owns the rights to whatever they are storing there.

In my personal case, I do not own the copyrights to a lot of the materials I was storing there. I am simply working on someone else's work. For that reason, when I was made aware of this change, I had to remove all works that are not mine. I can't risk someone else's copyrights. If something should happen to someone else's intellectual property while in my care I can't imagine what that would do to me not just as an editor but as a friend.

Now, I'm sure this all started when an attorney for Dropbox thought they were making their TOS better for Dropbox. It sounds like legalise designed for the CYA approach to business. Unfortunately for Dropbox I don't want you covering your corporate ass at the expense of my, and my clients and friends, rights as a creator. Since this started, they have been updating and improving the language of their TOS multiple times. I understand they need to take care of business and safeguard their company. But as a consumer, I have rights too. Corporate America seems to think their rights supersede mine. So, while the attorneys and CEO's have the right to create whatever TOS they want, I have the right to chose to not use your product.

So, all the files my creative friends and clients have entrusted to my care are now safely down out of the clouds and I'm back to the old fashioned backup of using an additional hard drive while I wait for Dropbox to decide what their TOS is or will be. And now, I'm also tasked with looking for secure alternatives for file sharing.

Seems that celebrating freedom this year has taken on a slightly different meaning in terms of freedom to own copywritten material...

Happy 4th of July.

For additional thoughts (and more in-depth analysis of the legalese) on this issue, please visit my friend Dan Sawyer's site http://jdsawyer.net.

My Friends

My friends
Have done
Such amazing things
And been so many things
For me
They have held me
In their arms
In their thoughts
In their hearts
And in their words
My friends
Make me think
Make me smile
Make me laugh
And make me sigh
I am not an easy person
To love
I am moody
I am conflicted
I am me
To be held
In their embraces
Is to know
That no matter what
Everything will be okay
I thank God
Every day
For these special people
Who have entered my life
And call me friend
They give me security
And hope, and advice
But most of all
They give me love
Unconditionally
I'm afraid
That all I have to give in return
Is my gratitude
And my undying love
I hope that's enough

If Only In My Dreams

Are you or perhaps I should speak of him instead of you
Does he or whoever take everything
Literally?
When I sing of dancing
Naked (gasp!)
Do they or we
Think my clothes are in a heap
Down in my (our) (your) kitchen?
Perhaps I don't have time
For celebrations
While I am stalking
For little girls
And boys (our/yours/mine)
I'm sure
As I am not creative
Enough
To envision fantasy
For I live in reality
And wear my heart
And my imagination
On the sleeves of my dress
The dress of my dancing
Flung off in my haste
As I write my sorrows
And weaknesses
Pains (no joys?)
For all to see
Voyeurs to my thoughts
My lovers embrace
All too real
If only in my dreams

Reality and Fiction

Reality and fiction
Words of fancy
Words of me
Somewhere in the middle
Lies the truth
Of what I see
The truth is not for you
Not from my words
Not today
You lack a certain something
To understand
What I say
If I could lock you out forever
From my words
And my heart
It would be the greatest gift
To myself
And my art

Setting Myself Free

What is this?
It occupies my soul
Creeps in a little at a time
Until there isn't room for me
Is it fear?
Is it pain?
Is it heartbreak, or loneliness, or shame?
All of the above.
It doesn't matter
I need not name it
It is anything that steals my smile
Or makes me feel less than me
It is him.
It is them.
It is you and me and us
Sometimes.
Right now I am down
As low as I can go
I am fragile
And so much less than me
But I have the power
And the will
And the strength and the courage
To change things
I have choices
And decisions to make
That affect not just me
But those I love too
I will open my heart
Open my soul
And chase these things out of me
And set myself free

Go read...

There is a wonderful (and creative--go figure) post by my good friend Keith Dugger on listening to that voice within that urges us as artists to get off our butts and go do, HERE... My wish for this post is simple...go read it. 

One Day by Keith Dugger

I had a terrible, horrible, day today. Doubting myself. Frustrated. Angry. Sad. All those rotten emotions kept coming at me even as I tried to find my center, my balance. I had let someone upset and anger me well beyond what I should have. Basically, it was just one of those days. 

When I tried to vent some of this I became even more frustrated and angry because I was censoring myself. It's hard to vent and hold your thoughts back at the same time. Then I received an email from one of my best friends, Keith Dugger.  At the first two words the tears started to flow and by the end I was bawling like a baby. I guess I needed that.

Thank you, Keith for the gift of your words, your friendship, and for always knowing what I need from you even when I don't know myself. I love this.

One Day

by Keith Dugger

One day you'll look up and it'll be there. You may have stopped looking for it, hoping and praying for it by then. You may have stopped believing that you deserve it. At the time, you won't recognize it. Even if you catch a glimpse of something you remember, you'll tell yourself that it isn't possible. You'll see what the world around you had taught you to see, but it'll be there. 

One day you'll look up and you'll realize that it's been there all along. Even when others might have said different or pulled you down with them. It's the little things that bring it, it's the little things that tear it down. But it's there. Waiting. It's patient and it'll wait for you in the silvery shadows for as long as it takes for you to remember that you deserve its friendship, its companionship.

One day you'll look up and it'll be there staring back at you with a smile that seems humanly impossible. And that will be the day happiness reminded you that it was there.

Interrogation by Dave Sobkowiak

When a friend of mine, Dave Sobkowiak, saw the combination of posts from a few days ago he was inspired to create a little piece of writing for me.

The first post talked about my frustration at having to second guess which of my posts, which words, could or would be taken out of context or possibly used against me in some way by my soon-to-be-ex. And my decision to censor myself creatively and just not post any more poems for the time being. I then went on to take down about a third of my posts.

The second post was a call for submissions on Creativity, Art, and/or Inspiration. I hadn't thought about the two posts together. They were completely separate events for me. I have always had a fascination for finding out what makes people tick...in this case other artists.

Dave saw the irony (and felt my anger) of the two combined. First, I was saying that because of the actions of another I was taking my own content down. Then, I was asking for new content from others.

Thank you, Dave, for this. I love it.

Because of recent events I feel compelled to list the following disclaimers:
1. The following is a work of FICTION
2. I am not the author

That said, I hope this makes you smile...

Interrogation

by Dave Sobkowiak

Anger, fueled by rage.

That's what they said when they hauled me in, and deposited me unceremoniously on to the chair.

I expected a bright light in my eyes. I expected a stone-cold interrogator.

I half expected to be beaten with a hose, but to my surprise none of this occurred.

My cuffs removed, coffee offered and received, I remained untethered to the chair, watching as they played good cop and better cop.

I smiled politely, and I nodded occasionally when they offered their insights.

I feigned ignorance in a manner a child could recognize as transparent.

Their patience with me was admirable, but they knew the truth.

They will never find your body.

A Little Excitement

Two weeks ago the tree at the back of our property was hit by lightning and took out the power line. They say lightning never strikes twice but for me, 10 feet is close enough to be the same place. This afternoon we had a nasty but very brief thunderstorm whip through again. Lightning hit our neighbor's tree. I heard the telltale chuffing sound of a deisel firetruck coming from the back of the house. Jake and I went to investigate and here are some of the resulting pics.

Thank you to the Harrisburg Fire Department once again; not just for doing what they do best, but for being good sports for the crazy barefoot chick taking so many pics.

Guest Posts Wanted

Creativity
Art

 Inspiration

When you see those words what comes to mind? Are you a "creative"? Do you write, draw, compose, paint, dye, design, or create things that are unique to you?


I want to know your thoughts on any or all of those three words. In whatever context you chose to write about. What do you create? How do you do it? What inspires you? What are your thoughts on art in general? Anything. It can be insightful, poignant, funny--whatever--I want to know what YOU think.


I will be contacting people directly but don't wait for me...if you are interested you can send me a DM on Twitter (@BrightEyedDyer) or send an email to DyedBrightHere (at) gmail (dot) com. If I'm not already following you on Twitter, just give a yell and I'll correct that.


Thank you all in advance...I can't wait to find out what you think, what inspires your creativity.

**You can email your posts to me at the above address. I'm not looking to intrude too much on anyone's busy schedule so the deadline is when you can get it done (preferably in the next few weeks). I am hoping to start running them in a couple of weeks. One every day or other day depending on how many of you are brave enough...

Thank you again!


~~Added on 2/18/12:  This post and the response it generated were the catalyst to a little site called Chocolate Scotch. I am still seeking guest posts and would love to include you and your thoughts in this project.   Sue~~

Lists of must do
should do
have to do

Don't wanna do
not gonna do
you can't make me do

The child in me screams
and cries
throwing a bloody fit

The adult in me sighs
shrugs off another round of depression
and gets to work

For Now

I wrote a simple little poem a moment ago. I was about to post it when I stopped to wonder what he would think of it and how would his reaction affect me.

Would there be even more animosity (as if that's possible some days)? Would it cause him to send yet another email to his lawyer (which in turn means one from her to my lawyer and then one from him to me in a viscous, expensive cycle)? Would I feel better in some minuscule way for having posted it? Is it even possible to feel better? And, now that I've spent all this time and emotional energy pondering his reaction and the value of the post in relation to his reaction, do I even give a damn?

I go through this internal debate every time I consider posting something now. To say I am pissed off about this doesn't begin to describe my anger. I write for me. That a few people might enjoy reading my poems or thoughts is just a bonus. Writing is a release of sorts but more than that, it's a way for me to look back and remember moments, emotions, things that would otherwise be lost in the stream of fleeting thoughts that flows out from me.

I love having other people read my words. For now, it's just not worth it. So, I might still post the occasional thought here--most likely in essay or journal entry format--but I think I'm done with putting my poetry out for public view. Too often they are too close to what I really think and feel. And in those rare moments when I try to push myself to stretch and do fiction or other forms, they are taken out of context and used against me.

To put it simply; for now, I'm done.

For now.

PS: This doesn't mean I will stop writing. On the contrary, I will probably write more. I just won't be posting them here publicly. For now. There WILL be a later. I guarandamntee that.

Penguin Dreams

Penguin dreams
Aquamarine
Purple thistle
Blowing in the wind
Warm

Daisy smiles
Wash away time
Freckles frolic
Under slate grey skies
Chilled

Unicorn dances
Blackberry wine
Poured in haste
Hot pink
Happy

Giraffe hugs
Awkwardness
Orange citrus
Invigorating romance
Angry

Porcupine laughs
On a hot summer day
Red
Cinnamon kisses
Tired

Angel arms
Souls caressed
Bluebirds in flight
Finally
Peaceful

Miracles Do Happen

I will not say
that I am not worthy
even though I think it
for I am learning that all
deserve to be loved.

Love should be
something unconditional
given freely
not something
that must be earned.

I have loved you
since before I met you
that I found you at all
is proof
that miracles do happen.

I Never Meant to Hurt You

I never meant to hurt you
And I bet you'd say the same
But the truth is
We both did
And so should share the blame.

It IS getting better

There is a spray-painted message on the side of an overpass that I pass under on my way home from work every day that says, "It can get better". If the creator of this message intended to inspire or lift a person's spirits then they were successful. The first time I saw it, I smiled and things felt a little bit better. Each time I saw the message I felt a little bit better about life in general.

Then one day it dawned on me. What did this person mean by saying is 'can' get better. And, now that I think about it, that's not really all that positive a message. It 'can' get better? Well that doesn't tell me it WILL get better. Hmmm... Maybe that's what the person really should have said, "It will get better." To which my inner brat immediately said, "When?".

Okay, NOW. There, are you happy? It IS getting better.

So, maybe that's what this person should have sprayed on that overpass, "It is getting better". And when I thought about it I realized that no, that wouldn't work. If I had to drive under a message telling me that life is getting better I would have been indignant and thought, no it's not.

Perhaps the message is perfect just the way it is and it is up to every individual person to have that kind of response, or not, for themselves. Perhaps it is my reaction to that statement that makes all the difference.

All I know is that life and things ARE getting better. For that, for that message, and whomever managed to lean over the edge of the roadway and paint it upside down, I am grateful. And, that's all that matters.

Proud to be Your Friend

A friend told me that he is proud to be my friend. I have never heard those word before. Not even from my spouse. My friend said that he was sure others had said the same thing to me just in their own ways. Hmmm, I'm not so sure about that.

Regardless, the feeling is mutual. Thank you for making my day. Again.

Silly Little Words

Words strung together

move my heart and soul in ways

that nothing else can.

Holding those I love 

as closely as possible 

any way I can.

I say, "I love you" 

openly and so often 

to remove all doubt.

Silly little words 

when said by someone I love 

mean the world to me

Colors

Colors -- swirled, painted 

poured into, over, and through 

keep time with my pulse.

I Remember

I remember when I was pregnant with my first son how when I slouched at my desk I would get a reminder to sit up straight in the form of a tiny foot being jammed up between my ribs. I remember learning all the words to Joshua Kadison's song Painted Desert Serenade and singing it about a million times. I remember reading the Harry Potter books together; I read the first and second stories aloud, by the third one he was reading it himself, and by the last one I had to wait my turn to get my hands on it.

So many sweet and silly memories of Max as a little boy that it's sometimes difficult to see him as he is today and realize that this handsome young man is the same person. How can that be? It was just yesterday...

Now, he's the tallest person in the house. We were at his Grandmother's house Friday evening. His Great Uncle, second cousin, and second cousin once removed (I think, I never get those relationships right) were visiting overnight. Anyway, when one of Nana's cats made an appearance Max scooped him up so that his little cousin, Amelia, could have a chance to pet him. Without being asked. 

Later he was back at the table trying his best not to look bored while the adults caught up around him. 

Yesterday was his prom. How is it possible that this young man is the same person who shoved his tiny foot up between my ribs and gave me so much indigestion?

Oh, yeah. I'm getting old. And, he's still giving me indigestion.

Docking Manuvers

Docking manuvers
Winds buffetting, tossed around
Birds landing in trees

Stars in the Night Sky

Stars in the night sky
Blazing with their fire
Stretched from one end of the galaxy to the other
Will never shine as brightly
As you

For @Mattsontomlin

You are creating
What your heart dreams of doing
It is a big deal

Thank you for inspiring these words, Matt. Please remember them when the mundane threatens to take over the divine.

My One True Self

There, in the quiet
Hidden amongst the stillness
Is my one true self

Long she has been there
Watching, listening, waiting
To be discovered

Do Flowers Dream Too?

Do flowers dream too
Of the perfect sunny day
And a soft spring rain?
And, if flowers dream
I have not the slightest doubt
That one dreams of you

The following piece is just a work of fiction...

My outrage complete
I would never hurt my kids
You're an idiot

I am creative
I string words together here
Sometimes it's FICTION

Poems and essays
I've tried writing longer works
But prefer poems

I read horror now
And find that I enjoy it
I wrote a poem

Maybe fantasy
Is a genre I should try
Would you think that's real?

Dragons, vampires, elves
Would a poem about these
Cause you such concern?

I've never made threats
To cause you bodily harm
You can't say the same

If you now read this
I will add some disclaimers
For fools just like you

"The following piece
Is just a work of fiction
I hope you enjoy"

"Comments are welcome
But please address them to me
Not your attorney"

April 15th

I didn't forget
Happy Anniversary
I wore black today.

It's Okay to be Uncomfortable

Normally, we all strive for comfort: a comfortable home, comfortable clothes, comfortable car, comfortable living. So, it might sound strange when I say it's okay to be uncomfortable. In fact, it is often a very good thing.

When we get comfortable, we tend to get into a routine. Routines are wonderful; but that comfortable routine can also mean same-old-same-old. When we break out of our routine and do something different unexpected things can happen. Good things.

Two friends of mine, who both happen to be male and writers of horror, recently wrote stories with elements of erotica in them. In one case, the erotic scenes are not the sole focus of the story and are balanced quite nicely by the horror and violence also present. In the other, the eroticism is central to the theme of the story. In writing these stories, these writers have ventured into new territory. In both cases, they were more than a little nervous about how they were portraying acts of the most personal nature--sexual acts. In being outside their comfort zone, they crafted their words with extra care. That care is evident in the overall quality of their work.

Any artist can improve their work, regardless of their medium or preferred subject, by stepping out of their comfort zone. This could be anything different from what is the norm for you. If you are a spinner, try a different fiber. If you are a portrait photographer who works in a studio, try some nature photography out in the great wide world. If, like my friends, you are a writer, try whatever it is that makes you uncomfortable. For some this might be erotica. For others, the horrific elements that my friends usually write might be what you need to try.

Color pallets, styles, subject matter, techniques, mediums, genres, methods, locations, times of day--these are all choices you make as an artist. The next time you create something, change just one of your choices. Just one. Step outside your comfort zone and see what happens.

Petals

Slowly unfurling layers of silk
The color of embarrassment
And wishful thinking
Opening to revel in the warmth
Of your touch

Packing and Unpacking

I finally realized
Why I have been dragging my feet
On some of this divorce stuff
I thought it was just fear
But it is so much more

I thought I was done
Grieving, hoping, wishing...
And I'm not
But things won't get better
Until I pack those things up too

I need to move on
Physically at least
I can deal with everything else
Later
By myself

I forgive him
For wanting me to be someone I'm not
And for thinking I would change
But more importantly
I forgive myself

So I'm packing up boxes
In my living room
And in my heart
I'm planning my future
And looking forward to unpacking

Horror Haiku

Death and darkness call
I have a purpose to fill
With innocent blood

I am born of night
Hunting patiently, with stealth
Silently searching

Sacrificial lambs
Hidden by you blasphemers
But I am clever

I sense innocence
It pulls me like a magnet
My sweet little lamb

I am duty bound
To free trapped innocent souls
Free them from this Hell

Your "God" is useless
Powerless against my truth
I will set them free

I am the shepherd
Come to take my lambs with me
You can not stop me

What I Like About...

I was a Junior at Shaker Heights High School in Shaker Heights, OH for just a semester. Our family had moved there from Opelika, AL when my Dad went back to work for True Temper. As luck would have it the president of the company decided to move the corporate headquarters from Cleveland to Shiremanstown, PA at the same time. So, I was only at SHHS for that one semester. Yet, years later I am reminded of the AP English teacher I had (Mr Newby) and my classmates because of a single sheet of paper.
One afternoon, we walked into our English classroom to find 18 large sheets of white paper arranged around the room, hanging from the walls. Across the top of each was written in large black letters, "What I like about_______ is:". Each sheet had one of our names across the top. We were instructed to take a colored marker and circle the room, thinking about the person named on each sheet and making a note to them about what we like best about them.
I came across that sheet of paper today while going through boxes of stuff and packing and purging my stuff in preparation to move as we work through this divorce and go our separate ways. It's a simple exercise that can yield profound results. Especially if you were previously having a bad day.
The words on this paper were written almost 30 years ago. I am as blown away by them today as I was then. They don't reveal any huge surprises, just reinforce that my basic personality, my good qualities are the same as they have always been and hopefully always will be.
Here's what my peers wrote when they were asked to write down what they like about Susan Baiman...
**Good pianist
**Talkative
**her truly warm, gutsy personality
**her friendliness
**her conversation and ability to be understanding
**her happy, caring manner
**her desire to be as friendly as possible with many people
**ability to make friends with anyone
**that she has more colored pens than Mr Newby
**her ability to make a person feel at ease
**that she ALWAYS puts warmth out for others
**her outgoing warmth makes me feel very good
**her quickness to laugh
**the speed at which she can put someone at ease
**her friendliness to new people
**her friendliness and her ability to make others laugh
**her incredible sense of my humor. She doesn't even miss the one-liners under the breath.
I'm pretty sure we all rolled our eyes a bit when the exercise was explained to us; but I think we all took it seriously and actually enjoyed doing it. All I can tell you is that from 30 years later when I'm going through the most difficult time in my life so far, these simple words mean a great deal to me. They remind me that in so many ways, I am still that girl. The people saying these kinds of things to me have changed over the years but the fact that some of the words are still the same gives me hope that when this is all over I will still be me; a little worse for the wear, hopefully a bit wiser, but still the same me my classmates wrote about all those years ago.

Fate and Circumstance

Climb with me

to the top of the tallest cliff

where we will leap off

together

and fly away.

I am like you

hopeless

a romantic

terrified

and in love.

Fate

and circumstance

can either

ever

be overcome?

No Greater Gift

There is no greater gift
that you can give another
than the gift of
unconditional
love

The Planetary Orbs

The planetary orbs
will continue to spin
through time and space
my love for you
is fixed.

The shape of the wave
is a constant
but the variables of life
like you in mine
alter its intensity.

Gathering my thoughts

swirling, twirling, cascade down

all are about you.

Finally drifting

down into sleep

hoping

to see you

in my dreams.

Math, Music, Poetry, and @trreed

I am currently reading "Alice in Wonderland" by Lewis Carrol to Jake, our 7yo. When I got to the part about the Mock Turtle I thought of a friend of mine, Thomas Reed (@trreed on Twitter) because he is a math teacher.

"The different branches of Arithmetic--Ambition, Distraction, Uglification, and Derision." ~Mock Turtle in Alice in Wonderland

On an earlier occasion I had told him that I would one day write a math poem or two for him. After reading the Mock Turtle's descriptions of his lessons, these silly couplets sprang forth:

To double you add twice as much,
Treble is a clef;
Math and music intertwine,
I think I'm going deaf.

You count the measure one to four,
Unless it has a three;
To take the measure of a man,
Is something else you see.

The numbers spiral up and down,
Don't let them catch you sleeping;
The wild ones will nip your toes,
And then you will be weeping.

Tame them all with signs and such,
Make them march around;
They'll do your bidding soon enough,
And then take you to town.

I Try

I try.

Or, I'm trying.

Depends

on who

you talk to.

Most Days

Most days I wonder

why anyone gives a damn

what I have to say.

Pregnant Moon

Pregnant moon so ripe

births our greatest dreams and fears

mother to us all.

Insights on Art

I just finished listening to my friend, Paul E. Cooley's (of ShadowPublications.com) first con panel from ConJour, "Why Aren't Horror Movies Scary Anymore?"  and I had some thoughts, not just on horror or movies but on writing and creating in general. In fact, the lessons I take away from this would probably apply to just about any form of creative endeavor.

1. Get an education in your chosen medium. Learn the history and immerse yourself in what has already been done. Figure out what you like and don't like and most importantly, why.

2. Get an education in art in general. No particular medium exists in a vacuum. Inspiration and points of reference are everywhere.

3. Have something to say. If you don't know what you are trying to express, how will you know if or when you have said it? Once you have figured out what you want to say, don't pussyfoot around; express your point of view and defend it if you have to. Then, be willing to listen to people's opinions and maybe learn from them. Art is a conversation.

4. Keep it simple. And, often, less is more. You may have a lot of things you want to express, a lot of things you want to try. That's fine, but if you try to do too much in one piece you will most likely confuse your audience or lose them entirely. Do one or two things, and do them well. Save the next couple of things for your next piece.

I have never been a huge fan of horror in the past so my personal knowledge of this genre is very limited. I am thankful that my friends have different passions and preferences from mine as interacting with them broadens my horizons. So, thank you, Paul, for the insight you and your fellow pannelists provided. Job well done.

Step outside your comfort zone. Read, listen to, watch, or experience something you usually wouldn't; make yourself think. Who knows, you just might enjoy it...

Words of Advice to a Writer

Words of advice to a writer
Working on a story
When the story in his head
Seems to want to be bigger than he had planned on:


Don't worry about what it wants to be
Let it do what it wants
You are not the story
You are just the writer


You do what it tells you
For now
Then we beat it into submission
Later

From Better to Good

Moving from I want better
Through it will be better
And I'm making it better
To finally arrive at
It is good

Some Days I'm Quiet

Some days I'm quiet
Others I'm simply ignored
Both mean I'm in pain

Just Clouds

Clouds slowly floating by
Cursed where swollen rivers flood
Blessed where arid soil crumbles
Either way
They are just clouds

My World is Bright

My whole world was dark
Then you came into my life
Now my world is bright

I Have Chosen My Own Path

I have chosen
to disconnect
all the buttons
you have become so adept
at pushing

Each day
I take another step
away from you
toward him
and my future

I am still afraid
of what the future holds
but with every day that passes
and every time I hear his voice
my fear diminishes

Now, as I walk through life
I  hold my head up high
and even if I stumble or fall
I see amazing things
and chose my own path