October 3, 2018

#metoo

sleeping secrets stir
wake to rooster’s crow for light
answering #metoo

~ smj

 

 Alive, Sia

Tags: , ,
October 3, 2018

Read Between the Signs

I keep seeing signs of you,
or from you.  I’m not sure which.
Or what you may be
trying to tell me.  Or if
it’s even you.  Is it?

Seems like a bit much
to be coincidental. Feels too persistent
to ignore. Too constant
to forget.  In the background, but
always there. Much like you
were in real life.

I miss the days when we talked
so much that we didn’t need to
anymore.  We only had to think it
not say it, but we knew we’d
always say it anyway.

I still see your eyes smiling
as you listened and talked and listened.
“I can read you like a book!”, you’d brag.
And, you could.  As I could you.
Usually.  We kept a few secrets.

Now, my inherited skepticism
is louder than all the forty-twos in the world.
I’d love to believe… but, it’s not like me
to not know you.  I’m not good
at reading in-between these signs.

~ smj

 

 

Stars,  Grace Potter And The Nocturnals

October 2, 2018

Thought Wrong

I thought I was moving on
from my past, from my problems,
from the person I no longer wanted
to be.

I thought I was moving up,
like the Jefferson’s – to the top,
to a deluxe, newly evolved version
of me.

I thought I had moved past
the worst of it.  That I had paid
my dues and was ready to finally
be free.

“Don’t think”, she said.
“You’re not good at it”, she said. Continue reading

March 12, 2018

No Poems Today… Just Ramblings.

I wanted to write a poem.  Get out some of these feelings that I know are building up inside of me.  That is what happens when I don’t write for a long time.  And, I should know, because I routinely go through long periods of time, where I let this happen.  I don’t write… I don’t process or deal with things.  And, here I am again.

I looked at some drafts of poems that I had started, and thought they might be a good place to start…  but, it’s been too long.  They no longer make sense to me.  So,  I decided I would write a brand new poem.  But, I just stared at the screen.  It’s been too long, and I don’t know where to start.  So much has been happening in my life.  Problems with my own health, yet again. But, those things don’t seem all that major anymore considering all that is happening around me to those I care about and love. Yet, nothing that I seem to be able to put into a poem.  Nothing that wants to see the light of day,  or that I can use to make something beautiful, or to just try to make any sense.  Not yet.

Which, really, is quite fitting now that I think about it.  Because not much is making sense.  How do you make sense of your 20 year old nephew’s death from an accidental drug over-dose?  You don’t.  How do you help those you love, your brother and your sister-in-law/best friend,  get over the loss of their youngest child, and their only son?  You don’t.  Some things you just can’t get over.  I know this.  So, I’ve been trying my best just to help them cope…  but, I am not even sure how to do that.

I have always been a good empathizer.  Is that a word?  My spell-checker says “no”, but, Continue reading

December 1, 2016

Play

Orange record player
First class ticket out of Dodge
“Puppy Love” express

————

I vaguely remember, the time when I was just little… and my older brother taught me how to write my name.

I remember being very proud of myself.  My brother seemed proud of me too.  And he told me that we could now play a game… a great, fun, NEW game.  I eagerly and happily awaited his instructions.  I would do just about anything my older brother told me to do when I was little.  Something I grew out of, thankfully, but not before learning some lessons the hard way.  This was going to be one of those lessons.

I remember my brother giving me an orange crayon… and he said, “I’m going to go out of your room and count to 100.  When I come back in, anything that does not have your name on it – is mine.”

You would think that Continue reading