C and C and #LoIsInDaBl Day 16: If I Could Be…

Grab a cuppa and a comfy seat, and let’s chat a while! It’s time for Coffee and Conversation!

When I was six, my family was driving on a highway late at night. Streaks of headlights and taillights painted the dark. For the first time, I realized that each car held people living lives as important to them as mine was to me.

I wanted to know what those lives were, and to share my own..

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Today, Bee‘s prompt is “Mothers. That’s a charged topic for me. I spent months regarding my mother as my best friend. I forgave episodes of shaming, incidents of abuse, and emotional manipulation. I did some of the same myself.

And then, I began to understand that this was a pattern. It began long before I was born, and, without a concentrated effort to change on my part, will continue on to my daughter, and perhaps even further.

My mother lives only a few hundred feet from my home, and yet, I rarely see her, and then there’s no real interaction.

There’s unfinished business between us. There was unfinished business between her and her mother, too. Her mother, my grandmother, died with that business still unfinished. My mother and I may never resolve the issues between us, and there’s a sorrow in that, a sorrow I’ve come to accept.

Accepting that this is the way that it is doesn’t mean that I’m happy about it, or that I don’t wish it could be different. I work to channel that into positive actions that don’t affect my family…because I want something else for my connection with my own daughter.

I’ve had to learn a new way to be, with her, and as a person. That’s deepened the rift with my own mother – and, at the same time, made me wish that I could somehow go back in time, so that I could mother my own mother, in a way that she never was…

This as-yet unfinished business between us led to this as-yet unfinished poem. It’s unfinished because I don’t know where or what the end of it is…

If I Could be Your Mother Now

If I could be your mother now

I would never have given you, so new, away

Left you as though you were nothing but

The shame and burden of your conception and birth

And not a person at all.

I would have held you and helped you

As you learned to nurse.

Feeling your strong urge for life in the power

Of your greedy newborn suckling

As you took life still from my body to yours

I would meet your fresh gaze

And fall fiercely in love with you

For eternity.

Is there someone in your life you have unfinished business with? A broken relationship you don’t know how to heal? A healthy one you’re thankful for…? I’d love to hear about it, and I’ve got virtual refreshments!

Looking for more Love Is In Da Blog? Find it right here!

Coffee, Conversation, and #LoIsInDaBl Day 9: A Not So Level Tribute

Grab a cuppa and a comfy seat, and let’s chat a while! It’s time for Coffee and Conversation!

When I was six, my family was driving on a highway late at night. Streaks of headlights and taillights painted the dark. For the first time, I realized that each car held people living lives as important to them as mine was to me.

I wanted to know what those lives were, and to share my own..

Do you celebrate Valentine’s Day?

My Accomplice and I have pretty much stopped buying material gifts on the days the calendar marks as “special”. Over the last year or two, we’ve spent more time, year-round, honoring one another in smaller, more consistent ways. Things like respecting one another’s need for quiet or personal time or connection.

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Put a Little Love in Yours!

Today, at Love Is In Da Blog , Bee  prompted us to write a tribute, perhaps a haiku or something short, to our significant other.

This poem isn’t particularly short, but it’s nonetheless an honest, autobiographical tribute to my Accomplice, and to the nearly eighteen years we’ve been together. I wrote it last October, for OctPoWriMo – but it’s perfect for today, so here it is again – as my first #LoIsInDaBl poem post.

Lava Lake, Gallatin National Forest, Montana. The trail kept going up the mountain, but this is where we camped.

It Levels Off Up Ahead”

“It levels off up ahead,” you said,

As we hiked toward Lava Lake

Love can be like that trail,

Winding up and up

Strenuous, taxing,

Fraught with dangers

Like the bears

In the Montana wilds

The obstacles and the

Rough places of life.

**

Bliss is the thing we expect, maybe

When we give ourselves over to love

What we want is the glory

Consuming everything but

Each other

Those long wild nights

When it’s lovemaking

And talking

And touching

And more touching

More talking

And a lot more

Making love.

**

Blinded by emotion

By hope and raw desire

Hunger and need

And the dreams

That wrap us round

Tighter and tighter

Cocooning us in

A webbing of unity

With no room left

For the world beyond

Or the future

Or even

Reality.

**

Honeymoon fights

As reality solidifies

I want to go to the

Aquarium – you don’t

We fight, I cry, you win

Later, in Kingman AZ

Reality a vise, a leghold trap

teeth at my throat

I left the car, walked out

Nighttime desert

Scorches with truth

Hot and relentless

In every heated breath

“I can’t believe

I married you!”

Words sharper than

Agave thorns.

**

Euphoria is a bubble

A cloud a wave

Something that ebbs

And rises anew

Like switchbacks, and

the steep broken path

Up the side of a

Mountain

Leading to the

Treasure of a

Hidden blue lake

A place to rest and renew

But the path winds up, still

It never did level off up ahead

Not on that trip anyway

And we chose not to climb

Higher that day, but to

Find peace with our descent

And delve the lower places

Within and between us.

**

Annoyed too often and for too long

A seething lava pit beneath

The surface of our love

And our shared lives

Boiling over like a geyser

Rumbling and rending

Poisoning the waters

Upheaval at the roots

Like a fallen sequoia

Or Sedona’s red rocks

The schisms and rifts

Whenever we didn’t

Agree.

**

Bewildered by new identity

Mommy and Daddy – who, us?

To suddenly be the ones

Responsible for his life

His health his laughter

And far too many early tears

Frustrations, rages, his and ours

The trips and stumbles

along the path

Many unseen dangers

Lurking like Montana bears

Hidden by glacial boulders

Shadows in the wild places

In the world, in ourselves

Jagged edges that threaten

This fragile being, our son

Our love blended and grew

Glowing in baby blue eyes

Eyes fixed on us.

**

Grief grabs us, squeezes, clenches

You hold our secondborn so gently

As the monitors slow, ssllooww

Stop.

You hold him for another hour

Squeezing and clenching

Shock of sorrow

Piercing reality

This isn’t a level place

This is trauma, soul deep

Black clouds, gaping void

Empty clothes, empty crib

Empty arms, empty womb

We cling together and

Fill what we can.

**

Joy isn’t always held in

Those leveling off spots

It’s like the sudden grin

Our daughter’s dancing eyes

Child born from tragedy

Force of nature

Like that climbing path

So long ago

Joy is a flower

Fragile

Ephemeral…

And not really the point

Of this hike, this life

Lived together

It’s the rainbow

The squeals of laughter

The moments in firelight

In desert mountains

In caves and scuba gear

Touch and taste of you

Quickening my heart

Binding me tighter with

Spidersilk webbing

Tensile strength and

Freedom…

**

It’s always been

About the

Journey.

What’s your love story? Have you ever set it to music or poetry? Captured it in images?  It’s snowy outside, but snug and cozy in here.  Won’t you have another cuppa, and share with us?

The path ahead still isn’t level…but so worth it!

You can find more Week 2 posts here (add link when available) – and, if you’d like to get more of that lovin’ feelin’, join in with your own take! =D

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!