JusJoJan Day 16: Three Minus One Equals Two

Just Jottin’ my way through January…

Are there any equations – mathematical or otherwise – that trouble you deeply?

I know. That might sound like a strange question – but the equation above troubles me, because, in my own life, it has taken on a far deeper significance.

I’m posting late tonight – this was a difficult post to write.

Those who’ve read here for a while may know that I have two children. But that’s not the whole story.

I’m the mother of three children. Our middle child, Elijah James, was born on July 13, 2003, and died twelve days later. His entire life was lived in hospital, the vast majority of it the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. A brain injury at birth caused profound and irreversible damage, and a grand mal seizure when he was six days old left him unresponsive, even on an instinctive level.

I had never thought about a baby’ crying as a blessed sign of health, until Elijah. Our eldest was born with a very strong set of lungs, and he used them. It tore at me, his cry – as evolution intended that it should, so I would keep him safe, and care well for him; so he could alert me when he needed something.

We never heard Elijah’s voice. He never cried, never suckled.

Such basic things. Things that parents of healthy babies take for granted.

Things subtracted utterly from the life of our second child, in the way that he was subtracted from our lives…but never from my soul.

I was sorting pictures last night, and I found two treasures I thought were forever lost: the only picture of Elijah with both his eyes open, taken the afternoon he was born, before I had even seen his face (he wasn’t breathing when he was born, and, once resuscitated, he was whisked off to the NICU, while I was kept for another agonizing four hours in recovery). He looks so calm in this photo, and there’s some solace in it; and the only picture of our family of four as it existed then, before Annalise was conceived, before we knew she would ever exist. It was taken two days before Elijah died, the day before the neuroneonatologist found him completely unresponsive, on the day when it became clear that he wasn’t likely to survive the circumstances of his birth.

I’m not ready to share these rediscovered treasures, just yet, even though Elijah would be eleven years old now. I want to keep them, for now, for us – our little family which can never be quite complete…

Do you have loved ones who’ve been subtracted from your life, and yet remain a part of your soul? There’s a safe place to share anything you’re inclined to, here.

And hugs to all.

Other, possibly more cheerful JusJoJanners.

Sweet baby boy…deeply missed.

WIPpet Wednesday: Cowl Invites Touch

Welcome to WIPpet Wednesday, a weekly blog hop which encourages writers to move WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date. It is hosted by the lovely K.L. Schwengel, maven of bad boys, stock dogs, and flying monkeys!

My life has slowed down considerably the last few days. I came home from our local NNWM Write-In Sunday night with a migraine and an odd dizziness that made me feel not quite in charge of my body…I’m better, but I’ve got the feeling that, if I push myself too much…so I’m writing, but my pace has slowed. I’m paying attention to what my body needs, rather than rush back to a more typical routine.

And, just in time for the new year, I got my three contributor’s copies of World Unknown Review!

My story, “A Splash of Red”, is a combination of a dream, my own life, and a lot of imagination…I first conceived it three years ago, and there’s been a lot of tinkering, revisioning, cutting apart, shuffling, and putting back together (literally)…

Pretty amazing, to read it in a collection on my Kindle screen, and hold a print copy of the anthology in my hands, flip to page 37, and see my own name, and my own story!

It totally makes up for the not feeling great in body…my spirit is out there, dancing on stars!

If you’ve got $.99 burning a digital hole in your digital pocket, this anthology is definitely worth it (yup, that’s a shameless plug. Forgive me; I’ve never had a story published before, and I’m excited!).

I’m writing the penultimate scene of Perchance to Dream, the last WIP I have left in a “hanging” state, and which I want to have finished by 2015. I think I’m going to be able to do it! =D

Trip and T’Pol are finishing up their holiday break this week, but they’re in a giving mood, and have invited us in for another take on their first meeting…no, I’m not talking about the ‘official’ one, in Captain Archer’s Ready Room, but a more clandestine encounter, when a young Vulcan woman illogically follows her curiosity, and chaotic music, and is Awakened to a smiling human man who holds music in his hands

This poem was originally written for OctPoWriMo; TnT snuck in to claim several poems for their own, this year. This one is a little rough, in places, but it’s got potential – like seeing someone utterly unexpected walk into the room, and shift the course of your life, without saying a word, or touching in any way you’ve ever known…

It’s a blitz poem, one of my favorite new poetry forms. It’s intended to be read aloud and quickly, without punctuation….

Disclaimers: Trip and T’Pol, , as well as the rest of Star Trek are property of CBS/Paramount; no copyright infringement intended. I just want to play with them, and I’m careful!

WIPpet Non-Math:

  • Today is December 31, 2014.
  • It’s New Year’s Eve, and this moment has a festive vibe (who knows, it might even BE New Year’s Eve!), there’s the correlation. I’ve probably mentioned by now that I’m not especially a rules girl….and I like daring Kathi’s flying monkeys now and then! ;D

You can catch a bit of  the cowl here…

Cowl Invites Touch

Alien woman prowls in

Face framed by a cowl

Cowl hides pointed ears

Cowl names her Vulcan

Vulcan eyes search

Vulcan eyes stare

Stare into me

Stare and declare

Declare alien yearnings

Declare Vulcan fires

Fires hot and unexpected

Fires like plasma arcs

Arcs sear and burn through me

Arcs scorch through soft jazz

Jazz binding us together

Jazz winding through us both

Both caught in arcing music

Both caught up in a breath

Breath tangles into music

Breath exhales wanting

Wanting this to never end

Wanting so much more

More music more time

More whatever this is

Is she feeling what I do

Is she even able to feel

Feel her heart beat faster

Feel hot blood in her veins

Veins green-hued not red

Veins from mind to heart

Heart opening to heart

Heart conquers mind

Mind pleads for reason

Mind begs for logic

Logic burned by plasma fire

Logic utterly undone

Undone by Vulcan eyes

Undone by shadows

Shadows moving softly

Shadows on her face

Face transformed by music

Face inconvenient facts

Facts of human man

Facts of Vulcan woman

Woman breathing in music

Woman I long to touch

Touch her deep within

Touch her man to woman

Woman

Within

Next week, we’ll go back to that nondescript little Suliban cell where TnT are creating the shape of things to come – and lots and lots of sparks and friction!

May you, one and all, ring out 2014 with fondness and warmth; and welcome in 2015 with love and a sense of adventure!

 

WIPpet Wednesday: Not This; Nor That

 

Welcome to WIPpet Wednesday, a weekly blog hop which encourages writers to move WIPs (works-in-progress) to publication by posting excerpts related to the date. It is hosted by the lovely K.L. Schwengel, maven of bad boys, stock dogs, and flying monkeys!

Trip and T’Pol are taking a holiday break this week (no telling what kind of mischief they’ll get up to, but it was time that they had a bit of privacy…).

Instead, I’m going to offer you something I’ve never done as a WIPpet before – a poem.

Just a short one, in the diamante form…about another pointy-eared fascination of mine….

In other news – I’ve been published! Even cooler, I get to share the anthology with a fellow WIPpeteer, Fallon Brown!

My story, “A Splash of Red”, is a combination of a dream, my own life, and a lot of imagination…I first conceived it three years ago, and there’s been a lot of tinkering, revisioning, cutting apart, shuffling, and putting back together (literally)…

Pretty amazing, to read it in a collection on my Kindle screen!

If you’ve got $.99 burning a digital hole in your digital pocket, this anthology is definitely worth it (yup, that’s a shameless plug. Forgive me; I’ve never had a story published before, and I’m excited!). Just click on the image, and it’ll take you to the link!

Looking for something to read by your Christmas tree?

Disclaimers: Spock, his parents, his sehlat I-Chaya, and all the rest of Star Trek are property of CBS/Paramount; no copyright infringement intended. I just want to play with them, and I’m careful!

WIPpet Non-Math:

  • Today is December 24, 2014.
  • It’s Christmas Eve, and diamante poems look a little like stars, so there you go!
  • Sehlat bit starts at 3;13; but the whole thing is good!

Not This; Nor That

Half

I am

As I am

Not this; nor that.

What is it that I am?

Did my parents consider that?

Query whispered to my old sehlat.

I-Chaya answered not; nor cared that I am half.

I sought after answers, silently sat

Upon my meditation mat

What is it that I am?

Not this, nor that.

As I am

I am.

Half

May you, one and all, pass the Christmasing hours, or, if you don’t celebrate Christmas, simply a joyous winter Thursday…with light and love and life and laughter and a dream or two coming true!

OctPoWriMo Day 31: Words Weave Truth

Learn more here!

Hello, and welcome to OctPoWriMo, Day Thirty-One!

What’s OctPoWriMo, you ask? Well, it’s a whole month of poetic creation – 31 poems in 31 days. It’s the creative baby of Morgan Dragonwillow and Julie Jordan Scott.

This year, I’ve followed many of the prompts, and had the double joy of play and discovery…

I hope you’ll stop by, settle in, and find a little bit of magic here!

Today’s prompt was to write about the month of poetic writing….

And now here we are, at the end of OctPoWriMo, and on the eve of NaNoWriMo. The trick-or-treating is done, and four children have dressed up, traded candy, and indulged the need for play and fantasy…

It’s been a day that followed a night of very little sleep…which has led to frayed tempers, ragged patience, and truncated endurance. My level of concentration is a little capricious today, which might mean my poem will be brilliant, or maybe that it’ll be a disastrous capper on a grand adventure.

I’ve visited quite a few new poet-bloggers, and read some truly amazing poetry. I plan to visit more of my fellow OctPoWriMo participants in the coming days, so that’s a gift that will keep on giving…

Either way, it’s been an incredible journey of self-discovery. I’ve used prompts that might not have occurred to me otherwise, explored new poetry forms I’d never heard of at the beginning of the month, and delved my soul. I’ve been bathed in language, and imagery, ideas, and connections. I’ve written some fiction connected to my poetry, and indulged some favorite characters.

It’s not only been a valuable experience for its own sake; it’s primed my creative pump for November’s adventure- drafting an entire novel in only a month.

But for now, there’s one poem left to be written, so here we go…

It’s going to be one final blitz, because I’m diggin’ the blitz! =D

Words Weave Truth

Month of wonder

Monthful of words

Words form images

Words shape reality

Reality afire

Reality swirling

Swirling in thoughts

Swirling with meaning

Meaning going deeper

Meaning ever shifting

Shifting perception

Shifting understanding

Understanding my world

Understanding myself

My self unveiled

My self deepening

Deepening and growing

Deepening poetically

Poetically strectching

Poetically deliving

Delving within

Delving without

Without excuses

Without fear

Fear of failure

Fear of opening

Opening to my life

Opening to fantasy

Fantasy whirling

Fantasy weaving

Weaving new realities

Weaving with wonder

Wonder what comes next

Wonder of creation

Creation a new delight

Creation as learning

Learning to see anew

Learning to feel

Feel life in the words

Feel their pulse and breath

Breath of life lived awake

Breath of life lived aware

Aware of its energy

Aware of poetry’s power

Power of cadence

Power of rhythm

Rhythm a dance

Rhythm my strength

Strength to live truth

Strength to write life

Life

Truth

Find other final day poems here!

OctPoWriMo Day 30: Apart With Love

Learn more here!

Hello, and welcome to OctPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Nine!

What’s OctPoWriMo, you ask? Well, it’s a whole month of poetic creation – 31 poems in 31 days. It’s the creative baby of Morgan Dragonwillow and Julie Jordan Scott.

This year, I’ve followed many of the prompts, and had the double joy of play and discovery…

I hope you’ll stop by, settle in, and find a little bit of magic here!

Today’s prompt was to write a poem about “the day before”….I picked the day before an arranged marriage, from the point of view of the soon-to-be jilted lover….

Apart with Love

The day before

The world fell apart

Apart like we would be

Apart from now on

On my own now

On her world

World that owned her

World that claimed

Claimed her rights

Claimed her choices

Choices stealing away

Choices gone tomorrow

Tomorrow too soon

Tomorrow shredding joy

Joy in our journey

Joy of yesterday

Yesterday spent in bed

Yesterday a feast

Feast of lovemaking

Feast of sorrows

Sorrows in her touch

Sorrows in her eyes

Eyes holding so much

Eyes flinching with pain

Pain she felt

Pain we shared

Shared life shared stories

Shared love to be severed

Severed without options

Severed and surrendered

Surrendered to culture

Surrendered to tradition

Tradition a prison a trap

Tradition strangling hope

Hope for tomorrow

Hope for new beginning

Beginning a life a love

Beginning with another

Another man to hold her

Another type of life

Life without her

Life not worth living

Living without her touch

Living so near and so far

Far from the freedom

Far from my love

Love burns so bright

Love blooming too late

Late

Bright

Get more of days before!

OctPoWriMo Day 28: Hunger

Hello, and welcome to OctPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Eight!

What’s OctPoWriMo, you ask? Well, it’s a whole month of poetic creation – 31 poems in 31 days. It’s the creative baby of Morgan Dragonwillow and Julie Jordan Scott.

This year, I’ve followed many of the prompts, and had the double joy of play and discovery…

I hope you’ll stop by, settle in, and find a little bit of magic here!

Today’s prompt was to write a poem to fit this equation:

Prompt: Hunger + Secondary Emotion = Your Poem

Add to HUNGER another, secondary emotion of your own choosing.

Possibilities include

sadness

joy

ambition

lust

yearning

self doubt

boredom

(or fetch your own via five minutes of free writing on the theme of hunger.)

Hunger

Hunger

    is the

             slinking

      sinuous

prowling

      hollowed

      stray

                tom cat

       of the

empty

soul

Yesterday’s poem was epic, so maybe it’s fitting that today’s is a mere 15 words….

But 14 potent words, born of one of my first memories. I was in my crib, walking back and forth running my hand along the rail = I liked the cool smoothness of the plastic bite guard under my fingertips. It was daytime, and I was waiting for my mother to come upstairs and release me from my nap. There was a small high window near the foot of the crib, and, as I looked out the window, I saw Hunger.

Hunger was a local stray, big headed and with prominent ribs – and, back in the early 70s where spaying and neutering weren’t mentioned much, I suppose, he had a seemingly endless appetite for scraps and our tortoiseshell cat, Hudson.

I watched Hunger strut and stalk through our yard, aware of everything around him, and I thought that “Hunger” was the perfect name for him…even as a toddler, words have been a playground for me.

And, even at the age of 45, if someone says the word “hunger”, that beat up, half-starved prowling creature of appetite will be the first image-meaning that slips into my mind…

I’m not sure if the secondary emotion comes through, or is just implied- it’s emptiness, loneliness – and maybe a touch of nostalgia.

Hungry for more OctPoWriMo?

OctPoWriMo Day 27: Just a Dream of Broken Hearts

Hello, and welcome to OctPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Seven!

What’s OctPoWriMo, you ask? Well, it’s a whole month of poetic creation – 31 poems in 31 days. It’s the creative baby of Morgan Dragonwillow and Julie Jordan Scott.

This year, I intend to follow many of the prompts, and get the joy of discovery…

I hope you’ll stop by, settle in, and find a little bit of magic here!

Today’s prompt was to write a poem that dealt with sleep or dreaming….

And they’ve been in my head, showing me what happens, when they dream…

So I gave them 1300 words or so to each say their piece; of course, they both surprised me. Then I went through both passages, and created a list of found phrases, which, adapted, became the components of this blended dream.

If I pulled it off, you will feel two distinct voices throughout….

Warning: this is a rather epic poem, at over 700 words. No, I didn’t plan that!

And for those who care – SPOILER ALERT! This poem has MAJOR, HUGE, BIG-TIME SPOILERS for the Star Trek: Enterprise episode “Home” and points surrounding. Don’t go further if you don’t wanna know…

Disclaimer: T’Pol, Trip, and all the rest of Star Trek are property of CBS/Paramount; no copyright infringement intended. I just want to play with them, and I’m careful!

Word Prompts:

sleep (sleepy, sleeping)

dream (dreaming, dreamer)

nap

awake

insomnia

Just a Dream of Broken Hearts

“oh god, T’Pol – why can’t

this be just a dream?”

you watched her get married

she’s Koss’s wife not yours

you have no right to her now

it’s his bed she’ll share tonight

“Trip, is this what humans mean,

When you speak of ‘broken hearts’?”

her beautiful face blurred

and ran with my tears and hers

an old oil painting melting

beneath her hot red sun

What right had Koss to me?

Angry blood seared my veins.

“oh god, T’Pol – why can’t

this be just a dream?”

not the friendly sands of Florida

sands of another world

red sands where she

sacrificed herself

on the altar of her logic

“Trip, is this what humans mean,

When you speak of ‘broken hearts’?”

My nails dug into my palms.

“I must meditate.”

To whom did I speak?

There was no one here.

“oh god, T’Pol – why can’t

this be just a dream?”

“She’s mine – “

“Yes, Trip – I am yours – “

“Trip, is this what humans mean,

When you speak of ‘broken hearts’?”

Koss had the right

to take me as wife.

“oh god T’Pol – why can’t this

just be a damned dream?”

we moved together

no hurry but unspoken urgency

bodies and minds and souls

tangled together

inseparably forever

“Trip, is this what humans mean,

When you speak of ‘broken hearts’?”

In this space, I could pretend…

Pretend if I went out the door,

turned left, rounded the corner,

and crossed the corridor,

felt it rising surging

bursting forth – power

and crushing pain

that I would be at Trip’s door -

he would welcome me in,

her citrus-and-sandalwood

arousal scent blended

with the salt air of home

He’d take me into his arms

and I would come fully to life.

“oh god T’Pol – why does this

have to be just a dream?”

her eyes glowed and it was almost

as if I could feel what she felt

touch what she touched

know what she knew

“Trip, is this what humans mean,

When you speak of ‘broken hearts’?”

hot fingers trailed down my chest

plasma arc of sharing

everywhere she touched

Peace slipped away and popped

like the soap bubbles on Trip’s chest.

“oh god T’Pol – why does this

have to be just a dream?”

to lose myself in her fierce bliss

popping like soap bubbles

under her virgin fingers

as she learned at last how

to play just play

without purpose

but just

for fun

“Trip, is this what humans mean,

When you speak of ‘broken hearts’?”

“You don’t play nearly

enough, pepperpot.”

Vulcan children did not ever

Play simply to play.

she was opening receiving

all I could give

giving so much more

than I thought she had

“oh god T’Pol – why does this

have to be just a dream?”

What he’d fanned into vibrant life,

now dull, numb, broken toys.

“Trip, is this what humans mean,

When you speak of ‘broken hearts’?”

“don’t suppose that’s sugar-free pie?”

sugars hit her hard and fast

take logic and inhibition

toss them out the airlock

we don’t need them now

My hot touch excites him

Into vivid human flame.

“oh god T’Pol – why does this

have to be just a dream?”

she rained kisses on my face and I

kissed her pecan pie tasting mouth

deeper and deeper breathing her in

but never breathing her out

“Trip, is this what humans mean,

When you speak of ‘broken hearts’?”

hot sticky smears over my chest

before I could say anything but “hey!”

well she certainly learned how to play

“oh god T’Pol – why can’t this

be more than just a dream?”

Tempt me from solitude

And quiet meditation

“Trip, is this what humans mean,

When you speak of ‘broken hearts’?”

her hot breath came sharp and quick

cutting through the sounds of the waves

and the gulls and the setting sun

Cool human fingers soothing

The heat of my hungry skin.

“oh god T’Pol – what does it mean

that we’re dreaming the same dream?”

Our tumultuous bubble of peace

Punctured by tradition and duty.

she kissed my cheek and

gave me the gift of

her thoughts and her tears

“Trip, is this what humans mean,

When you speak of ‘broken hearts’?”

Find more dreamy OctPoWriMo poems here!