W is for…

W is for Whining that it’s late and I need to go to bed,
for Women Whom I love even if I’ll never understand them,
for Work Which I avoid but can’t really imagine living Without,
for Writing and embracing it as both Work and play,
for Wanting What I have more than having things I Want,
for Willpower, for Which I often find myself Wanting,
for Worrying, Which still hasn’t helped one day be better,
for Wonder, and never losing that quality children conjure so easily,
and for those children, teaching them Well that
Who, What, When, and Where are important indeed,
But none so much as…


Authentically Me

Jason requested that I write a poem this week because it is out of my comfort zone.  I took on the challenge by digging deep and looking within.  Poetry is a beautiful part of writing, yet often undervalued.  Thank you in advance for taking the time to read and comment.  ((Hugs))

Authentically Me

years ago
I heard a sound
it was my own voice crying out
my nightmare stood before me
he attacked
stole my innocence
I lost a part of me

He held on tight for 19 years
trying with all his might
to snuff out my hope
using every ounce of strength
to pierce my spirit
an incubus
that attached himself
to all who came near
not comprehending
that I am woman
with a delicate center
strengthened by a faith
I did not know
but I was never alone
my soul listened
to the song of the passenger
that I did not see
protection always surrounded me

Being hit from all sides
seemed to be my destiny
my shield was a smile
a touch
helping others
no matter how many times my nightmare tried
he could never penetrate my heart
I refused to let go
so he left me

My nightmare gave me a gift
for I understood that he
was a mere shadow in life’s journey
for any shred of sanity
bitterness would only award him power
I did not acknowledge him
I chose to embrace
and love
that is how
I became
authentically me

Lady or Not… Here I come


Check out Jason’s post on my blog: http://wp.me/p2BLLc-TV

Poetry Time: “More Than Love Itself”

For those not in the mood for romantic sentimentality, I suggest you go read something else. This just came to me… In time I will bring all my poetry over here as a page, but for now, you get my new one:

Not exactly what I was looking for, but I like the message, so here it is.

More than Love Itself

If Love walked this earth,
It would not beam as an angel.
The beggar’s rags would be its guise,
For humans show it little reverence.
In its name they speak of trifles,
Hold hearts hostage,
Abuse, mislead, keep no promises.
But if I came upon this poor stranger
Trodding amidst the ungrateful,
I would kneel and bow my head
Confess my own sins in its name
But then, looking up to meet its gaze
I will say, Love, be proud
Your power is not forfeit
For I have seen it manifest within
Invulnerable in its purity
Transcending its very self
I know love greater still
Than Love itself can conceive,
And so may you.