Dance Naked

Her fingers are shorter and thicker than you would imagine a pianist would have
But she stretches past an octave and a third with sheer determination
And knows Beethovan as intimately as her lover
Those same fingers seek out the dial and search for a different sound
Her heart skips the downbeat when the next song comes on
And her foot taps to the rhythm before she consciously recognises artist or title
The music owns her soul and her body too
Her arms criss-cross around her in an odd embrace
And she pulls her dress up and off as she twirls unencumbered by cloth or self-consciousness
Her joy is her own flowing out like a geyser
Erupting from the deep spring that is her soul
And she dances naked across her kitchen singing for all she is worth.

In stitches

I use my needles
To have a conversation
In stitches with yarn

Different Doesn't Need To Be Fixed

This morning when I was tweeting all the stuff I had to do and how much I was getting accomplished a friend replied that she wished she had my energy. I first told her that I had been really lazy yesterday so this is what I get. I then went on to tell her that I tend to procrastinate and then work like hell and that is just one more thing I need to work on.
And then I thought about that statement. I've learned my personal style or preference for how I go about things. Give me a deadline and I will meet it. I won't be early, but I will be on time. What's wrong with that? Nothing. That's what.
I understand the mindset of not being comfortable doing nothing when there is something to be done and wanting to get whatever it is done first so that all obligations are met. I understand it, I can't live it.
This difference in styles is one of the fundamental differences between my ex and myself. And, for the longest time I bought into the idea that there was something wrong with me for not having the drive to do it his way. That I was lazy for not getting right on something that needs to be done.
But I have come to learn that I don't operate that way. Like I said, give me a task and give me a due date, and I'll get it done by that date. And, there's nothing wrong with that. Lots of people have the very same work style.
For me, life is more about understanding and accepting myself and others than about finding fault and trying to change things that work for me just because they don't work for someone else. Are there things about myself that I think need to be changed? Absolutely. Is this one of them? Not by a longshot.
So, he (and those that work the same way he does) can get it done first and then bask in their early achievement. I, on the other hand, will procrastinate right up to that critical point when I turn on the afterburners and work like hell.
It may not work for him, or you. But, it works for me and that's what matters. It is, afterall, MY style of doing things.
And, just because it's different, doesn't mean it needs to be fixed.

Color Sense

I started to think
About the senses
And how we experience
The world, in all its richness
Around us
And before touch
Or taste, or smell
Or hearing, or even sight
The word, color
Popped into my head
I tried to dismiss it
Thinking it just a part of sight
And a flash of brightness
Came to mind
And I felt the heat of red
I thought of yellow
And tasted the sour
I thought of pink
And smelled the sweetness
All at the same time
I heard the orchestra
Swell with purple and black
Chartreuse has a peculiar smell
Maybe that's why it's taken me
So long to embrace it
This sense of color
Touches, twines around
Is part of
And yet, separate from
All my other senses
It enhances them
Modifies them
But is something I feel
Completely separately
A perfect thing all its own
So in thinking
About my senses
I've discovered
The most important sense of all
My sense of color

Life Vest

Words wrap around me
Protecting and comforting
Thoughts are my life vest

Happily Adrift

Floating on a sea
Of peace and tranquillity
Happily adrift

For So Long

when you're not aware 

that something is missing in your life 

you feel nothing about it.

you don't know what you don't know

but when someone pulls back the curtain

and exposes the giant gapping whole in your life

in your soul, 

your very existance...

you don't know you're missing something 

until it completes you

you can't help but feel 

an exquisite sort of pain
heartbreaking emptiness

that the missing part 

not only IS missing

but that it HAS BEEN missing...

for so long

Floating

Taking your face in my hands.

Kissing you so

slowly

achingly

slowly

tasting your drink on your tongue

sighing

feeling my heartbeat catch

then flutter

then race

nuzzling you

head to head

sighing in your ear

sucking on your earlobe

as if it could ever be a suitable substitute

for anything else

but want

to be sucking you

in any way

need to

need a lot of things about you

keep getting that pit of the stomach feeling

the same one from a rollercoaster

as you crest a hill

and outwit gravity

for a split second

and all your guts float

so I guess I'm saying

you make me feel like I'm floating

Colors of My Friends

Color, tint, and shade

thought, emotion, subtlety

colors of a friend.

Broad sweeping brush stroke

painting pictures of my friends

I need more colors.

One is rich and deep

many layers, mostly blues

subtlety of wit.

Flashes of brilliance

and vulnerability

within the layers.

Blues don't excite me

not usually that is

this one is special.

Something about those

layers where life and love lay

in between those blues.

Desert, mountains, air

the color of a deep breath

fire in a soul.

Bold strokes friend of blue

hide the subtlety of you

and so I love you.

This friend I must paint

quickly for he's seldom still

a kaleidoscope.

Colors tumble round

bright, vibrant, colors moving

showing me so much.

Colors of love, lust

mixed with loss, and pain, and hurt

hope and joy there too.

Colors of friendship

strong, deep, safe, gentle brother

jewel tones for you.

For this friend-purple

one of my favorite hues

fit for gods and kings.

A nobility

graceful gentleness, kind heart

described in this hue.

Mischief is here too

the colors of a deep laugh

shading of a smile.

An honest brush stroke

faithfulness above all else

is painted here too. 

The colors of you

make you so special to me

you make me stronger. 

Some friends I hold tight

afraid of my own shadow

relying on them.

They are gracious, kind

patient when I cling too tight

they teach me to fly.

As I spread my wings

I see the colors of them

have rubbed off on me. 

Many friends are new

many colors still hidden

takes time to see you.

But in each, "Hello"

each glance, word, kiss, and embrace

I see more colors.

As you reveal you

add more color to canvas

my love for you grows.

I immerse myself in you

swirl your colors around me

loving learning you.

And in learning you

I find wisdom about me

painting both of us.

Emotional Amputation

‎​People talk about their heart
Aching for someone.
‎​It's not my heart that aches
‎​It's my skin

‎​To feel him against me--curled around me.
‎​That's what hurts the most
‎​Like phantom pain
‎​After an amputation

‎​As I wake in the morning
‎​I can feel him there
‎​Feel him beside me
Feel him inside me

‎​And then I open my eyes
‎​And the sense of loss is so overwhelming
‎​I start off each day with that kind of pain
‎​And yet, I survive

Dear Friend,

Good morning dear friend,

Re-reading your blog.

And wondering how you are doing now.

Wondering if you understand this gift you have.

Wondering how to help you see.

How to give you happiness?

Wishing you were closer

So that I could hold you quietly

When you doubt yourself so completely.

Wishing you were here, or I there

So that I could show you

All the people you touch everyday.

Wondering if today will be a good day for you

Wondering what I can say to make it happen

Give you all good days.

Good morning dear friend

Just checking in as usual

To tell you I love you.

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