Comfort

"Comfort, comfort for my
people," He said and I
sank into it like the best kind
of hug plus my favorite hot drink
plus a steamy scented bath plus a
soft bed at the end of a hard day.
"Thank You, thank You,
thank You," if I said it too much
it still wouldn't be enough because
my soul is filled with the wonder of
His love.





It's what goes through my head at the end of every day.

Also, "Comfort" has already been used but this one is a little bit better but I can't think of a different word for the other one so whatever.

Indebted

It's the gratitude that tears me up at night,
the burning thankfulness
that fills my soul
and makes me cry out,
"how could i
ever repay this kindness?"








A short little thing.
There are so many wonderful people in my life.

Ventriloquist

"Speak through me," he prayed,
and I thought of the verse
where it says that we
won't have to worry
about what to say,
because the words would be
put into our mouths.
Then I thought
of Moses striking the rock,
and a stream of water
pouring out.








I don't know how my mind made the connection, but it makes sense in a way that I'm finding hard to explain.

$3.80

"Three dollars and eighty
cents," the automated voice tells me.
I have heard the number so many
times already, and
honestly, the novelty
is wearing thin.
Living from paycheck
to paycheck is no fun when
I've got big plans
and an empty wallet.






Haha.
But really.
I want to go to San Diego for Thanksgiving...

Bags

You can tell that he
has been thinking
hard about life, leaving
everything else behind.
The bags beneath his eyes
are packed and ready to go,
prepared to let the whole
world know that he's got
something heavy on his mind.







I struggled a bit with the line breaks, but I'm just going to step back now.
There was this poem earlier- "Trust"? And this is me going back to explore that "bags under the eyes" concept.

Foundation

I am watching a wave approaching,
high and mighty, hiding
the earth from the sun.
Rising up from the sea
like divine will, finally come
to test me, to see if I am strong.
I am wondering, how can I stand?
So I cling to the rock of my foundation,
ready to see if it is
not truly built on sand.







And now I've got that song stuck in my head. "All other ground is sinking sand..."

But yes.
This is the kind of time where people get to see what they're made of- I'm eager to see how I pull through this.

Cognizant

She walked past the doorway, came back for a double-take,
stood watching me for a moment from her place.
I saw her from the corner of my
eye, but didn't move until she said, "Are you
thinking deeply about life?"
I slowly turned my head, slightly confused
and taken by surprise. "Not really," I replied,
"I was only wondering what Winter will be like
here." Her shoulders sagged minutely,
and it felt like I had crushed any
high opinion she had of me. "Oh," she
sighed, "That's not quite what I thought. It's just...
You were staring outside, with this
expression on your face... Nevermind.
Goodbye!" She smiled and escaped. I looked down
at my plate and tried to think of
deep things, but only succeeded in
giving myself a headache.






I get quite a few comments like, "Are you alright?" or "What's wrong?", because apparently I get this really intense look on my face. But really, I'm pretty sure that's just my natural face.
I guess it's just strange to not be able to tell exactly what I'm thinking/ feeling? Which is normally the case.

Vagabond

everything is fine
until the quiet moments, when the
thoughts come out from their hiding places
and they are saying, "this is
not your bed, not any longer.
this is not your home anymore,"
and i heard a saying
that "absence makes the heart grow fonder"
but i ignore
all of that. there's a part of me
that wants to feel guilty
because it's funny- i don't mind
where i am so much, as long as i'm
having a good time.







New self-discovery-
Being a vagabond doesn't sound so bad, at the moment.
One of my friends said something like, "I get a little afraid every time I get into the car and start driving, because I get this feeling like I'll just keep on going." And I kinda thought to myself, "If that ever ends up happening, I want to be in the car."

Unsteady

Her hands were shaking, the needle wavering
back and forth
like the smallest dowsing rod that I had
ever seen. I took it gently from her fingertips,
assured her that I could handle this,
and watched (slightly frustrated) as she
finally started to get ready.
Everyone else is rushing to finish
things, the cake needs frosting and
Did he remember to pick up his pants?
Yes, yes, I checked this morning;
I also finished the slideshow, fixed
the uneven cake, and saved your life.
Once, it felt as if the only
steady hand around here had to be me.
Nowadays, I just lean back and
know that it doesn't matter in the end;
as long as she's happy, we did our best.







I get this temptation to think that I did so much work and that if I weren't there then things would be so much worse. It doesn't matter if that's true or not, because then I realize how self-centered and stupid that is.
Weddings are stressful for everyone involved.
This might have a tinge of the "growing up" theme...?

Figuring

to a friend who maybe doesn't know herself, i can
only say that none of us really do. and it sounds
kinda cliche, and i bet it's been said before
but it's true! the trick for me so far
has been to just take things as they come, and
burn all those other bridges as i'm crossing them.
i'm sure you'll find something that works for you,
and i'll still admire you if you don't. and maybe
you'll figure something out that doesn't include
combustion. that would be a good one.






I mean, burning bridges doesn't work for everyone. It certainly doesn't work 100% for me, but it's a work in progress.

Stalling

nothing better, nothing worse-
so i'm stalling, rifling through my too-small purse
wondering what i should leave
at home, what i should bring. a gun?
to shoot one [or both] of us with? don't have one,
and don't think i'd bring it if i did,
but the thought was entertaining while it lasted.
i hesitate between chapstick
and lip tint, but decide it will look as if
i tried too hard. now it's just getting silly,
trying to choose between
Heavenly perfume or grapefruit bodysplash: i
toss everything on the bed, and leave it all.
the only things i always need
to keep close to me
are my wits and my heart-
arguably, i'm missing a bit of each.





This one is older than the last one! I've got new poems, really, but I went through one of my notebooks and found all these ones that I thought I posted but didn't.

Heavy

why so heavy? moving as if it's a fight
as if it's just enought to avert my eyes;
you closed yours, leaned back, sighed. (i thought maybe
you were trying not to cry.) why am i alright? (that's
what i thought you wondered, about me, about why
i walked and talked and thought so slowly. i won't
admit that i was fighting- fighting the urge to run or
punch or just ignore everything and go
to sleep.) i felt nothing, felt nothing, feel
nothing except
heavy.






This is an OLD one. It goes along with those other ones, "Feeble" and "Cut".

Wandered

ninteteen years of history, of stability,
of being rooted as a tree to a single state, a single city.
years of slightly changed sameness, testing
of boundaries and stretching
out against elastic chains. ohio, ohio!
my blood sings with your soil and a piece of
the massing "us" that fill your streets,
one unit of the "we"
that belong to this state.

but now, but now!
it feels as if the sky has been called down
sometimes, the weight of nineteen
years crashing and crushing and breaking,
breaking against me and against those boundaries
until we are bursting from them, shattering
and unleashed and free. free
from comfort, from physical assurance, from easy
words or a similar timezone, even.
free, free! the beast of me howls joy
fierce, freedom! while a part of me weeps
for the ground that is the same but
different, so different.






I finally put words into this feeling I had, when I got picked up from the airport & was being driven to my new home.
This one kinda came in bits and pieces- I would write a few lines one day, then switch them around, then write a few more a couple of days after that. And so on, until now. I'm not quite sure it's done, but... Oh well.

Inviting

I think it's the breezes I miss most; the
feeling of cool air evaporating
sweat and water from my skin.
The grass and trees come in second;
their whispers when the wind twines
its fingers through them,
the lush blanket of green
that invites me in.
The cactus here invite me as well,
spreading open arms out to me and the sky.
The thought is appreciated, but
I have to decline.





Pobrecito cactus! No hugs for you.
The wind here is like that gust that comes out of the oven when you open it & get too close too fast, the rush of dry hot air that dries out your eyes.

Also, I can interact with my blog now. :D

Grief

I watched her wipe the tears away, when
her hands weren't busy twisting the broken
keychain. "I try," she said, "I try so
hard to carry on, to be the strong one.
I've prayed so long for this- this
pain- to go away, for me to be happy. But it's
so hard, so hard when it all comes crashing
down."
She continued to explain, I
continued to listen, feeling like
I should cry with her or bake cookies
or call up these people who could not
or would not support her and tell them off;
she was laboring under something so large
that I could not understand.
She cried, I clenched
my hands into useless fists. When
most of the moment was gone, she left
to find a phone charger so that
she could comfort her grieving aunt.
I watched her leave, thinking
of islands and men and God and the
ingredients for chocolate chip cookies.





I also thought, Why God, why? I know what people would say why, but why?
It's so painful to not know how to help someone, because I always want to make them cookies and it never does much at all.

Submerged

the shush of a calm ocean,
waves whispering the places they have been.
ropes creak, boards squeak,
the constant sway of everything-
all of it, subliminally,
at the center of one's being.
this is the life of a pirate or sailor- floating
yet submerged in the mind of the sea,
as mother and lover she will always be.




Add pirates & such onto the list of things I should write about, because Nutmeg has asked for it and she's spoiling me with story snippets.

PS, in case you didn't know- the internet here has a block that allows me to get to my dashboard & make posts, but nothing beyond that. So I can't view comments or reply to them or look at anyone else's blog, either. FYI.

Knight

my knight wears midnight armor,
and rides a coal black steed,
his eyes are all that’s shining
when he sweeps me off my feet.
my mother shakes her head and says,
‘this is not what good girls do,’
but we will smile, just riding on,
because no love is true.





RHYMES, HOW DO THEY WORK?
usually, they don't.

Grouch

Hello Sunrise, old acquaintance. I've been
quite alright without your shining, cheerful
greeting every morning. It's true! Your grin
isn't required! Did you expect tearful
confessions, whispers of my dependence
on you to start my day? Or maybe you
thought I missed you, my life just can't make sense
without you. Wrong! Admittedly, it's true
that you are beautiful, but that's it! No
more than that, you too-bright ball of flame. Please,
remove yourself from my open window,
or close the curtains at least. I can seize
this day just as well around lunchtime. I
will be fine without you. Sunrise- goodbye.





I lied. Roller coasters eventually.
The sun has this habit of shining right through my window into my face, and usually I cover my windows but last night I forgot and I woke up with an eyeful of enthusiastic sunbeams.

Sensational

rushing wind and
the soundtrack for the season,
on the stretching tightrope of
a road we ride so well. hot
humid summer’s tongue pressed against
our skin, filling up my lungs and chest
whenever I breathed in. a welcomed bite
of spices in our mouths, tastes worn in
by experience yet foreign in their origin.
the rings of focus through a camera lens,
experimenting with the newness and the suspense
of seeing the results- nail polish, shapes and colors.
can cities have body odor? car fumes
and restaurants with aromatic foods,
the press of people and their civilization.
every moment is a sensation.






Yay adventures. :D
Next, maybe something about roller coasters?

Tensed

Swinging her crossed legs, she
said, "Do you really think you're ready
for this much responsibility?"
Disbelief coloring her face- I looked away,
hands clenched into fists curled on my thighs.
"Because honestly, I
don't think you are. I'll support you
all the way, but..." She trailed off,
and I still didn't look into her eyes.
So many things that I could say.
"I understand how you might think that way,
but I'm still going," I replied. Eyes locked
for the last few words, maybe
she could hear what I was really
thinking but she
didn't press the issue any further.







Deep breath in, hold. Deep breath out, hold.
Uncurl fingers, lay hands flat.
Buy that plane ticket as soon as you clear up this problem with the bank.