that's mrs. mediocrity to you

It’s raining this morning, a cool rain that calls for windows closed and socks dug out of a drawer I’d prefer not to open until fall.

The kind of rain that, in a perfect world, would also call for curling up on the couch with a light blanket and a good book. But, of course, it’s not a perfect world, and so I will watch it rain while I work and be content with that. More than content, I will be grateful.

Perspective can be such an elusive shadow, flitting in and out of life when you least expect it. But it seems to know when to visit just when you need it most.

So even when I am working around the clock the way I have been lately, even when I’m questioning so much about the way I live my life and not coming up with many answers, even when my back hurts and my hands ache and in truth, I’m feeling a little bit sorry for myself, it’s good to look up every so often.

Today, I say, let it rain.

Eventually, there will be another sunset as lovely as this one, and the right moment to sit there and enjoy it.

But just now, the sky is crying and the basement will flood and I have more work than time.

And all of it is beautiful.

willow

tendril momentum

ethereal chiaroscuro ripples

ranunculus desideratum

azure zephyr tintinnabulation

gentle grace gesticulating gone

tender mesmerizing wisp

hope sonata confutatis

flicker solitude

refined crepuscular twilight

nostalgic soar bravado

periwinkle forgiveness

cacophony blossom

stillness desire kaleidoscope

delirious waltz dream whisper

zenith soliloquy

alchemy perhaps

mellifluous sentient ambiance

rapscallion serendipity

silhouette

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Combining my “50 things” series with my post for NaPoWriMo.
A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month.
This post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.

::

let it

all go

and

ride the wind

wherever

it takes

you

::

happy thanksgiving

::

you know what you were meant to do
you know it in your
heart and you refuse
to listen
just exactly the same way
you never listen to the wind
in the trees at night
whispering moon love to the owl
the way you tilt your head and pause
when thunder rumbles
but never when the sky is blue
the way you walk past that same
dirty penny six days in a row
and never stoop to pick it up
you know what you were meant to do

sit down upon a rock and stay

until your back breaks

your palms bleed

your heart cracks open

every answer you need
will run down

down

through the fingers of hope
cupped to hold them

.

.

.

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Linking up today with the fabulous dVerse poets for Open Link Night, join us!

::

so few things

in life

are

black and white.

::

outrage
…….makes me tired

i know it’s not supposed to
i know i’m supposed
to stand up
for what i believe in
stamp my feet
bellow
charge

and some days i even
…….consider it

but then these words
fly at me in a barrage
of bellicose belief
…….misogynist
…….broken
…….war
…….fight
…….fix
…….heal
…….demand
and i find myself
turning my head
to dodge
meanings injected
with fortitude
…….and after a while
…….i tune it all out
…….all of it
…….word by word
…….letter by letter
…….bouncing hollow
…….because i just
…….don’t want
…….to fight
…….anymore

…….i want to stand here
…….in silence and sunshine
…….and breathe in
…….the moments of life
…….that still want to touch
…….my skin
…….and besides
…….i’m already
…….hot
…….all the time
…….already
…….bent
…….and so over
…….the differences
…….you vouchsafe
…….in all directions

…….and

…….no matter what you say
…….or how loudly you say it
…….i can still
…….hear the beat
…….of your

…….heart

.

.

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A poem a day for 30 days.
In honor of National Poetry Month,
this post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.
And also dVerse poets Open Link Night, join us!

compassion lies crumpled on the floor

manners moved on to warmer climates

grace goes to shiver in the corner

grammar was gilded and hung on the wall

respect reveals scars of abuse

kindness was killed in an alley

sanity slithers towards a crack in the door

balance became powerless to perform

sensibility stands alone,

too proud to say anything

::

::

::

A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month.
This post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.

::

Talk about an experience with faith, your own or someone else’s.

::

i have faith in

a sun that rises,

a love that grows,

a heart that repairs,

and a life that

takes and gives and

keeps coming back

for more.

::

this post is part of the scintilla project. see more here.

::

Who are you?
Come out from behind that curtain and show yourself.

::

i am growth that spirals,

hope that grows,

life that reaches

for the sun.

::

this post is part of the scintilla project. see more here.

I decided, the other day, that 2012 will be the year of discarding.

Letting go, relinquishing, dropping, hurling, setting free, releasing.

Words and tchotchkes, things and thoughts, pounds and insecurities. Worries and doubts, stuff and clutter, possibilities and promises. There is so much that I don’t need.

I want to sit here in this room surrounded by nothing, I want the quiet to seep into my skin, I want to be enveloped in space.

I need more room. Elbow room, breathing room, leg room, room to grow, a room with a view, living room, my own room.

My life is cluttered with things I don’t need, things I must have, things that replace other things. I want less, more or less. I want fewer things and more words. Less stuff and more substance. I want to hold nothing in my hand and watch it turn into something.

I want to give away everything I have and expect nothing in return. I want to build a tower of hope and climb all the way to the top. I want to let my hair down and run laughing through the forest. I want to live off the land and inhale the morning. I want to sing the sun to bed at night and whisper rhymes to the stars. I want to wrap my arms around the ocean.

I want nothing. All of it.

I want to find an empty place to curl into, a bowl, a pail, a vessel, something to float away in. I want to feel the air rushing at my face as I soar through clouds of forgiveness. I want to lie on my back in a meadow alone and let butterflies land on my nose.

I want to be still.

I want to be.

Still.