Where to Find "Me"

To think that so many of you know the "real" Kelly better than those who have known me for years. Here is a poem exploring that notion.

The Waiting Me

You may stand next to me
for countless years
assuming that you know
all that makes me tick.

You may never know
that the essence of me
dances around inside
and teases the right eye.

You may tell all
that I am a type
to sort away and define
without a second thought.

You may feel content
to sum me up quick
without a question
as to what I may hold.

You may notice a look
that invites you to push
a relationship through
doors bursting to bloom.

Happy Thursday to all of you who sort of "get" me :)

Girl Power

My daughter has discovered the cartoon, The Powerpuff Girls. She is enthralled by these kindergarten superheroes. She asked me, "Mommy, can a girl be as strong as a boy?" So here is my poem inspired by her question. My poetic inspiration is coming from the oddest places these days :)

A Girl Can

Daughter mine opportunity
hidden in precious enclaves.

Inhale that strength
to surprise and awaken.

Tower over uncertainty
with thoughts and words.

Shake off the dust
to diamond our world.

Daughter grab hold
the summit calls.

Mama's boat is ready

Monet

I'll Sail You Through

My boat rocks anchored
until the time to let go.

Standing on my deck
tentative feet cling steady.

Crouching over lambs
as my back weathers storm.

Grabbing onto my mast
they can jump the waves.

Here's a quick poem on my mind this morning. Remember that great novel The Old Man and the Sea? Just call me "Old Mama and the Sea" as I carry my kids through sometimes rough waters.

Happy Saturday!

Maybe I'm STRETCHING for poetic inspiration these days...

Signals

That chill upon my arm
brought me out of routine.

What made me notice
when all still had to be done.

My eyes took a moment
to rest on the physical of me.

Jumping through hoops
to satisfy the day's pull.

Rare to stop and see
a body that speaks back.

My body has lost its place
of sanctity in my priority.

The soul cannot join
to a body pure mechanical.


Sometimes a poem comes out of me from left field :) This was inspired by something as simple as my stopping to notice some goosebumps on my arm. Strange muse, don't you think? Anyway, I started to recognize that I truly don't "listen" to my body's needs anymore. I really just go through the motions and neglect my body's signals. I have to stop treating my body like a work horse. My aching limbs would love a massage!

Poetically inclined about the pool today

A beauty by Monet. I don't swim with waterlilies. But aren't the colors so inviting?


"Water Therapy"

Four decades may sit on my shoulders,
but my eyes will dive through blue.

The warmest sun freckles my arms,
as I lay back to accept the cool.

Worries evaporate for an ounce of time,
but caution keeps young mermaid close.

A boisterous setting to meditate,
as welcome water filters unease.

Jillian would love that I referred to her as a mermaid :) Can you tell that I'm missing the pool today? Our town pool closed yesterday. Unfortunately, thunder decided to interrupt our pool plans on that last day. After devoting 30 minutes towards sun lotion application on all 6 of us, I wasn't too thrilled to have to turn around right after we parked the minivan. The kids weren't happy either. At least, I'm glad that we did get a lot of pool time in this summer. It was a great sanctuary for me :) I guess cool showers will be my next best substitute.

Poetry Quickfire

Do you know how the chefs have to do a quickfire challenge on Top Chef? They must put together some kind of dish in a short time. Well, I'm doing my own kind of poetry quickfire today for fun. Here is a poem that I wrote in about 5 minutes while watching Jillian play an online game. It's rough around the edges, but there may be something to work with here.

Fold it neatly
my soul's promise.

A love lyric to self
with care to watch.

Those fleeting moments
seeking a perch.

A word may present
to caress the unknown.

Note to waiting soul
unfolds eternity's window.

Pieces of a journey
lay before me a road.


I think this may be an interesting way for me to push myself into getting a poem out each day. Like those chefs during their quickfire challenge, I'll work with whatever is on hand and hope something worthwhile comes out on my "plate". Thanks for reading everyone!

Alone on my battlefield

Frustration

That tightness begins to ascend,
coiling through all of me.
Take away this choke,
as it grabs and lets go.
Failing over and over,
my mind tires to fight.
That familiar grasp squeezes,
as hope slumbers away.
Pry myself away to breathe,
to crawl upward and out.

Almost thirteen years of motherhood and I worry about these feelings of inadequacy as a parent. At times, I feel like I'm on a battlefield and not making any ground. As the kids get older, the parenting really wears on me some days. I don't know if they "get" what I'm trying to say. I always seem to be coming back to square one. Progress must be happening. I wish I could see it better.

A Place I Don't Want To Go

Nightmare Creeps In

Cloaked as an aggressor,
stress invades my dreams.
Scattered images of fear
climb into my mind.
Cast as unwilling narrator,
then running actor afraid.
Duty instantly awakens
disoriented and troubled.
Mind urges open eyes,
dream of fear keeps popping.
Fragmented plot half buried,
I choose not to unearth.

Some of you may remember this past post about dreams. Last night, I had a real Stephen King kind of dream. I'm not a fan of the horror genre in any way. Where are all these horror/suspense images coming from? My subconscious is playing a game with me apparently. I've heard that the subconscious can be a good provider of creative material. I'm not comfortable exploring this genre for my writing. I am earnestly looking for some new poetic material. Just my luck that my mind is working in this way these days. Hopefully, more "Kelly like" material will start surfacing soon. What are you dreaming about?

Thankful Anyway Thursday

The wonderfully honest and insightful Mon, over at Holistic Mama, invites us to join in with Thankful Anyway Thursday. In Mon's words, "It's easy to be thankful for the good stuff, can you be thankful for the not so good?"

Here is a poem expressing what my sister and I shared yesterday.

Grief Still Visits

I saw your face change
when that memory knocked.

Our shared hurt surfaced
and slowed our world.

Disbelief sat next to us
and tapped our shoulders.

Time tells Daddy's little girls
to watch him fade away again.

Grief adheres to our souls
and cycles back to visit.

We watched our kids play and laugh together all day. Then we started to remember Dad's last days. Our tears were as fresh as the day that his soul lifted up.

After ten years of a life without him, we still feel the sting of that sudden grief. Seeing her hurt ached my soul even more. Love mixed with grief will always be part of us now. We didn't even try to console each other. We looked at each other in silence. After a few moments, I shared a funny memory about Dad. It helped us to smile again and plan the next activity for the kids. That's what he wants us to do. Life is about joy. Gratefully, grief is not a regular visitor. In many ways, I'm thankful for this opportunity for me and my sister to share our grief together. It strengthens our bond as sisters and deepens our commitment to family. I am thankful for not being alone in that moment of grief. We were able to honor my father's memory together as we smiled about how his humor continues to bring life to our family.

Take a moment to hop over to Holistic Mama to read more Thankful Anyway Thursday posts.

Poems without direction

Unsettled

Blessed by treasures
a life to the fullest
What drum beats within
calling me to action
Wrapped up in a bow
a life apparently content
Unrelenting nudge wraps
around my days and nights
like a slinky cat
Unease climbs through
emotions and limbs
looking to spark a burst
to release clarity

There's that something pushing me to go somewhere with my "voice". In this poem, I'm trying to explore this nagging feeling that I have yet to discover the direction for my poetry. I wrote it without punctuation to give the sense of a stream of words and images just falling out of me.

I think I'll have to rework it, but here it is anyhow. Thanks for taking a moment to share this poem with me. Have a good night everyone:)

A poem saluting performers

Tonight, I'm thinking about the privilege of an audience witnessing a performer immersed in artistic expression. I love watching a dancer, singer, or musician perform live. I feel like I have been given special access to what drives the performer's soul. Hope you enjoy this poem!

Passion

Hushed voyeurs await
flashes of flamenco crimson.
Furious heel taps build
waves of thunderous precision.

Crowd voices intensify
guitarist mesh with instrument.
Burrowing deeper into chords
musician stretches the soul.

Submerging into self music
the performer surrenders caution.
Transfixed by intimate spectacle
all outsiders envy such marriage.

Hoping to connect again through poetry

Connect

Daddy was once a little boy
restless on a Manhattan stoop.
That little boy swallowed hardship
as his mind stretched like landscape.
That little boy imbibed a laughing room
as his spirit ascended cold flat roofs.
Six decades elapsed when that little boy
pieced together with a waiting universe.
Daddy’s daughter sits restless in the rain
looking through the nowhere for his grin

Today we honor all who gave so much for our freedom.
God bless our military and their families.
Happy Memorial Day!

Taking that chance to open up

I thought of what it must feel like to truly offer all of yourself in words to another. This poem tries to capture that surrender of self.

Raw

Speak with unveiled words.
Cry with wrung tears.
Scream with articulate pitch.
Whisper with verbal strokes.

Open to attack or discovery.
A human stripped on a raft.
Clear eyes lift to the other.
Self purge bleeds on.

Mom on Patrol

Trying to control the happy chaos can be a true challenge for multitasking mothers. We all are grateful for those alone moments when we can recharge and refocus.

Responding to the Call

Reprimand and intervention fill my day.
Pockets of fun soothe the mood.
Urgent voices call for mama rescue.
Frustration whips my thoughts.
"Mama, you need to handle this."

Room to room I survey the peace.
Resting children curled in slumber.
Quiet bathes me with refreshing ease.
Best intentions whisper in my ear.
"Mama, you tried your best today."

Enjoy your Saturday! I'm making a birthday cake for my sister this morning. We have a kid inspired family party scheduled for this afternoon. My house is a mess! I have a lot of work to do :) Wish me luck that my kids control their "happy chaos" at least for the morning.

Through the years

This poem came to me this morning as I thought about my life in stages.

Pushing Out and Through

Undefined me
eight years of clay
Turn around skating girl
a stronger you awaits.

Stumbling me
eighteen years of questions
Turn around book girl
a wiser you calls.

Bright eyed me
twenty-five years of searching
Turn around wifey girl
a fulfilled you ahead.

Juggling me
forty years of preparing
Turn around mama girl
a knowing you smiles.

I didn't really spend much time editing this poem. I'm going to let it stay as it is for now. Possibly, I'll tweak it some more, but I like how it sounds at this moment. I know that there are more stanzas to be written. Life is a reliable provider of material.

Chocolate

You don't see many bumper stickers anymore. I saw a great one yesterday at the supermarket parking lot. In nice, bold letters, this driver shares with all: "I'll dance for chocolate!" A quick image of a mom tap dancing in front of a hat filled with chocolate came to my mind as I loaded the minivan with groceries. I'm always pleased to come across someone else who shares my chocolate obsession. I've gone on my chocolate scavenger hunts when my pantry is surprisingly free of anything chocolate. Would I dance for a piece of chocolate cake at that moment? Good chance!

I'm playing along with Mommy Nintendo's poetry challenge over at The Itsy Bitsy Monkey. Hopefully, I'll be inspired with some "poetic ideas" during this month. Today and everyday, chocolate is on my mind.

Chases away mommy stress

Heaven sent on hectic days

Own special dessert time

Chips, chunks, crumbs

Offer judiciously

Love that pudding

Always a treat

Tempts me daily

Everybody wants a bite.

I wonder if my son ate those last two cookies. I know that it's 11 a.m., but a girl can't fight this calling all the time!

Enjoy your day! I'm off to my son's kindergarten show today. It should be fun :)

Thinking of others first

Driven

Veined hand soothes worn cheek.
Trembling masses await rice currency.
Lined notebooks shout potential.
Quiet dignity follows Christ's advocate.

Mosquitoes dart over tattered sheets.
Sweat beads on tired brow.
Dawn arrives with urgent cries.
Eyes open with feverish vocation.

I wrote this poem after reading about an amazing missionary and her dedication to her work. Missionaries deserve our admiration for their selflessness and love of humanity. They live in such extreme, dangerous circumstances. With pleasant grace, many missionaries still manage to go through each difficult day with a smile for all. They are the forgotten warriors trying to fight terrible odds to help the suffering of this world. I'm in awe of their choice to devote everything to helping others.

Mommy, someday I'll do ballet

My 3 year old daughter wants to be a ballerina. She spins around the house so happy in her movements. I have never had the opportunity to see a live ballet performance. It is an experience that I hope to share with my daughter someday. The little ballerina within my daughter inspired me to write this brief poem. This poem deals with the moments just before the dancer's spirit commits to sharing this graceful and even intimate form of dance with the audience.

Extend

Spotlight hits stage
as curled up soul
waits to burst
through motion.

Music peels away
as listening soul
unfolds perfect limbs
into full beauty.

I hope you can beautifully "dance" through today!

What defines my reality?

A few years ago, I wrote this poem about how your reality could be so different depending on your place of birth or state of health. Your present experience of reality depends on what "patch" of this earth you happen to be on.

Patch

Could have been that frightened girl
squinting under drapes of sand.

Could have been that beaten mother
cradling child's simmering brow.

Could have been that lonely invalid
choking for breath in a damp ward.

My carefree eyes of privilege
scan horizon for a parking space.