Meanwhile, I Keep Dancing

Day 30: Then This is my last word. My last poem, at the end of this 30 days of pushing something out. Around about the middle it felt like I would never keep finding inspiration. I felt that I would find some words that were absolute duds. Or that my brain would just become blank. But, surprisingly, with a little faith in myself and what kind of creative power I have, it's all there. All I need. And I can ask for it, anytime. So, taken from Argyll Folk Tales by Bob Pegg, from page 45 about the hero Finn McCool, I bring you such a small everyday word that really stitches together all of our lives. And all of our stories. And then... This word bookmarks the Past; slides an old envelope between the pages of your history, that much read book with dog-eared pages. It can be a flash of sweetness on your tongue as you recall a ray of sunshine from your childhood. It can be a closed door on a memory of pain a promise of Never Again It becomes a transit...

Day 29: Asked Pg. 182 from The Chapel Perilous by Naomi Mitchison, in Elsewhere: Stories of Fantasy I've asked for a lot through my life as a child I wished for fame and fortune that cookie or that costume for Halloween As an adult I've pinned after love asked for strength affection insight Right now All I want is my stomach to stop hurting

Day 28: Apoplectic Pg. 323 From Riquiqui, I Love You! By Felix Marti-Ibanez in Elsewhere: Stories of Fantasy You can feel the seething as you scroll along the feed facebook always brings to my attention the hot topics to look up read the smouldering comments feel enraged dismayed there is a volcano building under this country it has for years and it is erupting eating itself wishing to change it's terraforma terrible destruciton I wonder what will be left when the ash cloud has settled?

Day 27: Mother This word, because everywhere I look it is there. This word because this person has had a huge impact on my life, and deserves to be honored. This poem hardly even touches the  surface of what I have been given by this woman. Her stories. Her time. Her heart. She has cleaned me up when I've been covered in blood, snot, sick, mud, tears. She is always learning and growing. She showed me how our hair is unique and beautiful and needed to be nourished the way it was. Oh friends, this woman is amazing. Her is a slice of that picture.  When I was born, my mother wove birds into my hair blue birds of happiness They settled there for the long haul they wove ribbons and moonlight into their nest raised their young taught them the song My mother gave me her curls passed from her mother and her mother done a long line of women and men these gave me permission to be me take up the space I needed My moth...

Day 26: Like I'm feeling a bit raw today. Unhappy, unsure, sick, tired. The rose  colored glasses are off ladies! Taken from I Hope You Dance Poetry Journal of Ashlen Hodge, from the poem Why Do I Like You? My parents gave me journals to write down my world express with blood ink my heart on the page my parents are my biggest fan and tells me often I am blessed and it destresses me some to see these words all lean one way to crushes or lovers of bygone days teenage angst all misspelled out even as I grew, my poetry did not even NOW I give them this space Oh how they alter me all those men oh how through their filters I found my edges and textures blown out by the over exposure of these boys And I am angry I am angry that my view of those women that came before me is seen through their eyes cold hearted bitches, every one  portrayed and to think I join their ranks I am cast as the witch the cruel one...

Day 25: Sluglike I don't always feel this way, but on days when I am coming down with something and just want to go home, the feeling is strong. If you are an adult that has children or works with children, you understand.  This word was found on p. 183 from The Restaurant at the End of the Universe , from The Ultimate Hitchhikers Guide by Douglas Adams, that genius.  Swinging with ease legs dangling eyes alive to the challenge “ look at me! Teacher, look at me!” they loop along the bars, twisting in midair demand my absolute attention no wavering glance accepted These star beings glow so brightly for hours they bounce and glide I am never slower than here a sloth among hummingbirds never do I feel so weary than herding these magnificant cats Any adult who loves a child knows this Each day you shave off a piece of your soul drop the sliver into their eager wating mouths Watch them smile and twirl grow into something b...

Day 24: Tarot Pg. 132 from Elsewhere, Vol 3 , from the story The Lady of the House of Love , by Angela Carter There is something about the Fool as he wanders off the cliffs edge wondering and in awe that draws me in I find him frequently on my journey The Empress and Emperor sit on either side of me Fire and Water Earth and Air they show me my oppposites and the importance of each And I've learned from the cards that reversals don't always mean ill fortune just a mirror image of what you percieve Each of their faces a facet of my voices speaking my subconcious truth through story They are the ancient ones walking hand in hand with humanity since our magnificent brains sensed deep down a soul So here in my pack I carry them with me lay out a spread What do you wish to reknow?

Day 23: Suddenly Page 28 from the story For Love of Sunny by Vivian Vande Velde in Girls to the Rescue Suddenly I was here when two paths crossed my parents to be creating my history a happy happenstance for me Suddenly my childhood ran by burned skin summers and wet winter skies topless and carefree tree house dreams Suddenly my college days love and learning blew through only snapshot memories remain Suddenly I am here thinking 5 months of travel went by so fast how that love went by so fast these hands cannot hold the falling sands as time passes I'll stop time here catch the light off my bubble dreams as they rise, suspended lift my nose to the wind and catch the hyacinth of Spring this precious life this precious moment The Universe will blink and suddenly that was my life

Day 22: Nerve Page 119, The Portable Walt Whitman . Something short and to the point.  This time of year, the ground yearns to be touched flowers, like nerve endings, explode in trees and over once barren grass everything in this green, wet, world is tingling this is spring awake vibrating feeling

Day 21: Pain Pg 15 of The True Secret of Writing: Connecting Life With Language by Natalie Goldberg. When you are a cis woman you are raised to believe that other's pain is your problem you practice hugging and making soothing sounds leave a space in your frontal lobes for distressed faces and shut off body  language always on guard you learn how to save  people ow to do the hard things for them so they won't feel pain And while you are learning to help others  heal pain you learn about blunting yourself because you are a potential weapon too diminish your anger cool your hot words stuff the sharpness of your feelings down to the bottom These lessons bore done into our bones sit and poke  become shame and guilt if we stray And to this day these words are as natural to me as breathing I utter then without realizing I'm Sorry I'm sorry I said that I'm sorry I can't make it out tonight I'm sorry I disappointed you Yelled ...

Day 20: Able Found on an unknown page from the Secret Travel Diary of Ashlen Hodge. This diary is page after page of falling and rising back up. Wondering, doubting, relearning, trying again. Always trying again. I'm glad this word found it's way to me. I often forget about how much I do in my life. How much I have grown and achieved. Sunday's End Comes too Soon Today was a long day When you become an adult, you have those more frequently subtling building a lego tower of tiny shoulds interconnecting, locking, clicking into place so quietly building til you notice the shadow this mountain casts across your once open, sunny day But hey Wasn't this autonomy something we craved stuck behind desks and books and grey walls Wasn't free choice a Golden Land that we would one day achieve once we slogged through the mundane mud of adolescene I remember how overwhelmed I felt as a 2 nd grader watching a 6 th grader do t...

Day 19: Morn This little odd word was found on pg 108 from Le Morte d'Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory. Initially I thought it meant mourn, but discovered it had a very reverse meaning for me. At first I could only think of this haiku, but happily it lead to a longer piece.  Morning Flower New hours unfurl Fragrant birdsong around me Day and Soul rebirth Morning Routine  At the beginning of the day I cannot weep not with golden light spilling through curtains The freshness of the air can only be so by moonpowered filters the night before It is the sweetest of smells Vague memories of pain inner turmoil the night before are rocked and sung to by the lulluby of birdsong their sharp corners soften The night before has come and gone and here I am present in the Morn

Day18: The Lovers Taken from page 239 from Tarot Mysteries: Rediscovering the Real Meaning of the Cards by Jonathan Dee.  I enjoyed reading about this card. Some things it said about The Lovers is that it's symbol is fire and zodiac sign associated with it is Gemini. I really connect to that, as a gemini. It also talks about paths being taken, one path of comfort and familiarity, the other one of surprise and exploration. The Volcano Speaks Don't talk to me of love my heart is too cracked to hold that liquor seeping out spilling on the floor And as an emotionally well balanced adult I'm expected rag in hand smile on face to wipe it all away whistling ready for life's next love but I'm not I'm a siege weapon of bile prickly and thorned achingly tired of kissing that frog and that frog expecting a gold star or a prince or a pat on the back good girl So don't talk to me of love not right now ...

Day 17: Conventions Pg 66 from A Room With A View by E.M. Forster.  “ I've always flown in the face of the conventions all my life.” This poem is more than partially inspired by the announcement of the replacing of The Affordable Care Act with Trumpcare. Perhaps we should say TrumpBeware. There is little care in it's attack on everyday people, people who make only enough to keep going, who have pre-existing conditions that include migraines and vaginas. Who suffer from other sick parts of this society, if they have fallen victim to rape. Western conventions say that I need to have a husband by this point, have a child, own a house, work a 9 to 5 job or clean and take care of my house. I need to dress a certain way, look a certain way to be loved and accepted. These conventions ignore the flavor and diversity of life. Of what humans can be. So, fuck you conventions!      The Grey Box It has always been done this way says fear as ...