Poet Among Other Things

C’est La Vie

“I wish it were socially acceptable for adults to climb trees.” I just laughed and picked another burr off my backpack. “Last time I called Annie she almost fell out of her tree.”

C’est La Vie8a28535d4ee76de8d25a942a5daddfb8

Have you ever noticed
The smell of Autumn?
The scent of fallen leaves
Warmed by the sun
It’s warm, yet, is the smell of death
It’s sweet, yet,is the smell of mold
How sweet and warm is the start of death and cold

Have you ever realized
That leaves have never touched the dirt?
They grow from the earth
Yet if you catch them mid-flight
They will never meet it
It’s life begins in the canopy
Never greeting it’s true mother

Have you ever heard
The noise of a windless forest?
When the crickets and birds still sing
And the leaves still lose their grip
And the squirrels still skitter up bark
And the trees still whisper
And the shadows still dance

Have you ever sat perfectly still
Long enough for the wood to take you back?
The become a part of nature again
Feeling the pulsing of life
In the roaring quiet of the trees
Feeling the breath of a curious creature
Drawing power from a tree branch
A tree bearing weight at last
Pulling warm Joy from the Sun

This is Life
Gales of silence
Beautiful death
Forever changing
Nothing is as it seems

Books and Movies, Camp, Musings, Poet Among Other Things

Filling Journals

I’ve had journals since– I don’t remember not having journals. Sure, the entries were about 20 words long and illustrated because I couldn’t read for so long, but I had things to say, even when I couldn’t articulate, let alone spell them. I look back on some of those rudimentary scribblings and laugh. If they weren’t so old they’d be embarrassing. e678b832b693eac8bcb557b690cce3d8But even though I couldn’t write down how I really felt, and often didn’t actually know, I wrote enough to trigger memories. There’s one journal that Dad gave me around the time he was deployed overseas. It’s just about the ugliest shade of green, that one that is evidently the only dye color the military has, so I quickly took my crayons to it and made it mine. Our basement flooded a few years ago and it was barely saved. But on one of the pages, that has been threatening to fall out for years now, are a few words about how my day was ruined because Wendy’s messed up my baked potato, complete with a picture of how the spud should have looked. I remember that day. We had just been visiting one of mom’s friends and I was overwhelmed with the cares of being 9. It was the last straw. Either mom was pregnant with Adam or Dad had just left, but I was an emotional wreck and I couldn’t show it, I couldn’t write, I couldn’t draw, and now my lunch was a travesty.

I have another journal that my then best friend’s mom gave me. It has a picture of us in the front. Little, tiny, 7 year old us. This one is blue with vines, a picture window on the cover and a ribbon bookmark with a heart lock charm on the end. The one that I simply cannot remember not having is my Winnie the Pooh locking diary.

I used those two off and on the most, since the military surplus one was ruined, but I’ve yet to fill a journal. I’ve filled plenty of random notebooks with sketches of rooms and beginnings of stories, but I’ve never written my soul from cover to cover. That’s what a journal is. The soul on paper. Whether it means what it says or is just a symptom of the true condition is for the reader, usually your older self, to decide.

But that trend is about to change. 4980f05fdb74af85e118941df03bd15f

I have six pages left. I really don’t know what to do with myself. It feels as if my filling of that last page will end something in my life. I got this journal 2 years ago when I was a finalist in the library’s poetry contest. It was the year that Meg was also a finalist and Claire was the Honorable Mention. I didn’t win anything, but it was my last year of eligibility. I graduated high school right after that, and then started writing in the little book at Camp that summer. Only first few pages actually bare the thoughts of a baby counselor, as I quickly got too busy to write. Instead, it chronicles the heartache of a life turned rightside up. Learning to accept my PCOS, giving myself permission to live, embracing my gifts. It’s all in there. It hurts to go back and read who I thought I had to be. But the closer I get to the end, the less it hurts and the more it is beautiful. Most of my “poems” are actually journal entries, written as I’m falling asleep. They are raw Annie. What she sees with her eyes, but also with her heart. Moonshadows. Will-o-the-wisps. Dew laden blades of grass.

The closing of my little book coincides with the closing of my first semester of college. I never thought I’d go to school past what was required. I had no need to. I began the journal feeling broken and purposeless. I close it happier, more full of life, and whole. You don’t come through a chapter like that without scars. But scars fade. They remind you who you are.

Poet Among Other Things

Of Sunrise and Fireflies

Morning

I sit on the stoop
Cradling a warm cup in my cold fingersSunriseedit
Its warmth makes them tingle
 
A single star pierces the eastern horizon
It hangs in the lightening sky
Defiant of the quickly rising sun
The sky turns princess colored
Clouds of periwinkle and pink
 
As the world greets the Prince of Day
It sheds its cloak of gray
And dons a robe of gold
 
The clouds that fell asleep
And drifted to blanket the earth
Turn golden as they awaken
And rise back to the air
 
Soon the star winks out
No longer able to compete
The color overpowers it
 
The evening songbirds bid sweet dreams
As the morning birds greet the light
And for a brief and shining moment
Both day and night
Singing at once
Shining at once
At perfect peace and unity
The star passing vigil to the sun
 
And I sit
For a moment under both watchful eyes
And I sip the warmth from my cup
A creature of both night and day 
 

Evening

In the cool air of a summer ‘eve
I laid in the grass beneath a low branch
And hardly dared take breath
And as the sun hid all her light
I heard the Queen of the Fireflies speak
fireflygirl
 
Come now, my sisters
Let us dance among the pines
Let us twinkle like starlight
And frolic through the oaks
We will speak to the stars
Sending sparkling messages
Flitting between eager hands
As they try to catch our light
We shall tease them with our beauty
And dance just out of reach
Great fun it is, this game of tag
But careful lest the Gigglers win
And end our game for good
For though they mean well
Captivity is none too kind
To our small and meager glow
So dance away my sister lights
And tease, but do not touch”
 
So off they flew to begin their game
As the Gigglers came outdoors
With peals of laughter and screams of delight
They ran with small hearts pounding
The chase began
Like none before
A chase worthy of legend
Both Gigglers and Fire
Knowing their parts so well
The one would fly just out of reach
The other with hands outstretched
The green ones lingering just long enough
The hands closing shut with a clap
But fingers pull back
To give joyed eyes a peek
And let wings carry little lights free
Like floating stars in this moonlit air
Like freshborn nymphs on the dew dropped grass
Dance and laugh intertwined
On this joyous and glorious evening
Camp

Return of the Fire Breathing Pidgezilla, Part I

I’ll be honest, I’ve not had an easy time putting together this post. I’m not sure what it is, but camp was hard this year. Everything about it. I’ve started and restarted writing about it half a dozen times. By the facts everything went DSCF1975swimmingly. But for some reason, I’m having a really hard time putting together a coherent post about it.

First I wouldn’t miss camp for the world, then I was ok with missing a week, then I wasn’t planning on going at all. Then my plans fell through, a date was wrong, and I didn’t get the job. I was confused. How did I go from adamant about going to not even planning to go to camp? Maybe I’ve grown? I don’t know, really. I think perhaps camp had been a kind of crutch. I’m really not sure how to describe it. I’m learning that I am incredibly loyal, to the point of blindness. Don’t get me wrong, camp is a great thing, but I think I had become so loyal to NeKaMo that I was potentially missing other opportunities. When I opened myself up to other ideas, it kind of threw me off. Funny how that works.

When it came time to pack, I was such an emotional wreck that once I got my stuff together I just laid on my bed and cried for a couple of hours before finally falling asleep. The drive down to Truman Lake with a friend was fun, and relaxed me quite a bit, but I was still tense. Actually, I spent a lot of time over the two weeks in some state of stressed. But it was a really beautiful time too. One night, after doing something that some would consider– eh-hem– rule bendy, I came back to the cabin, where my girls had been asleep for hours, and wrote.

A night of the starsDSCF1917
Full of laughter and joy
 
A night when they burbled
And spilled over
And rained down
 
A night when the moon hid her face
When she turned a blind eye
And let the small ones have their fun
And they danced with joy
And had their frolic
 
Their joy drifted down
Falling on heads uplifted
Watching their dance
Drinking their joy
Words were made for nights like these

DSCF2062One afternoon I sat with Robin during free time while she worked on something in the rec hall. She asked “How ya doin’ Pidge?” in her usual perky, but incredibly sincere, Robinish way and I thought about it for a moment before simply answering, “Happy.” Yes, I was stressed a lot of the time, but I wasn’t just thinking of at camp. In general, I’m happier than I was last time I talked to her.
Robin and I seem to have a way of surprising each other every time we talk. This time it was her turn.  “I can tell. You aren’t as mopy as you were last year.” I thought I was going to be the one shocking her. I didn’t feel mopy last year, and I did this year. I also didn’t think she would remember much about me from last year. I’ve been finding out that people actually do remember me a lot more often than I thought they did.

How did I get yet another nickname? What happens when you throw Pigeon and a handful of squeally, panicky, Pathfinders on a nature trail? Who is worse about staying on task, Pigeon, or a camper? These questions an more answered in the next addition of  “Return of the Fire Breathing Pidgezilla!”

Poet Among Other Things, Short

Brightness Doesn’t Fear The Night

You’re still the little girl inside
With eyes so full of wonder
You see things no one else can see
They scare you when you tell them
But stand up and be brave
Don’t let your light go out
The brightest starA Dying Star Shrouded by a Blanket of Hailstones Forms the Bug Nebula (NGC 6302)Goes through the most darkness
You’re that crying little girl inside
Feeling everything so strongly
The pain, and sorrow, and hurt
The evil in all the world
To acknowledge it would kill you
But there it sits
So you ignore them all
Not only the world’s pain
You ignore the world’s Joy
But, little girl, feel them
They overwhelm the heart of one
Especially one like yours
But share that burden with Me
I love your precious heart, little girl
I can see the strength you can’t
For, little girl, you are brave
The world to you is Beautiful
You are free to feel it, little girl
Don’t fear who you were made to be
Take the Joy of the world
Don’t throw it out with the pain
Find My other little girls and boys
Show them who they are inside
Remind them of when they still saw Me
When the world glittered
When the world loved
Because, little girl, you see wonderful
And you can see it in their eyes
Use your light to brighten
Make the twinkle shine
You are Beautiful, Brave and Bright

Do not fear who you could be
Do not hide from the world’s pain
For you can see the Beautiful within

Camp, Poet Among Other Things, Short

Flying the Thread

I am getting ready to head to NeKaMo Camp for 2 weeks, so I haven’t had much chance to write. Since I don’t want to abandon my lovely little blog completely, I present for your reading enjoyment, Flying the Thread.

 

Mists rise from the cool, lapping water

The air is still

Yet the vapors dance among the reeds

Like slender forms

Like the spirits of vessels gone by

They drift ashore and lick my feet

The cold enters through my toes

It trickles up my spine

The wisps dance and twirl around me

The cool moistness overtakes my body

I become like the wisps

Lost in their eddies

Twirling in whiteness

Moving without effort

Never touching

Yet in one mass

Passing through each other

We fly over the grass

Droplets slide down the blades

Movement so fast and fluid

Neither water nor air

Cold but full of life

I leap from drooping flower head to drooping  flower head

Faster and faster

Further and further

Until I don’t need to land

I soar above the trees

I dive down into their green blackness

Weaving between sleeping leaves

Leaving in my wake shimmers of water

I dive faster

Skimming across the surface

Flying with the fireflies

The twinkle like the stars above

We dance and sparkle

I begin to shine

Though the tall, dry grasses

Like a star fallen to earth

I float high

Higher than the flies around me

Towards the darkness above

Joining the stars in their patterns of light

Shining brighter than the fire I left behind

Swimming through clouds of pure color

Twinkling, swirling, shining

We waltz together to soundless music

I look back on everywhere I’ve been

A pattern of water and fire and light

Like a single strand of brilliant thread

Connecting worlds so different

Yet they fit together

Like a puzzle scattered on a table

Some parts similar, many scattered

The thread ties them all together

And a Beautiful painting emerges

Actions in Activities, Musings

A Lovely Way to Spend an Evening

Happy 220th post!

This was funny to me. None of the results surprize me at all! I’m a derpy-word-nerd-trekiwhovian. ^_^
NerdTests.com says I'm a Slightly Dorky High Nerd.  Click here to take the Nerd Test, get nerdy images and jokes, and write on the nerd forum!

Ok, so, about the titles. I have a tough time coming up with names so I like to use the name of a song I listened to whilst writing this post. Last time I was getting ready for Elegant Evening and I liked that title better than any of the others I listened to. I was going to title this post “Baby It’s Cold Outside”, because it did in fact come up on my Pandora, it is uncommonly cold. In fact, drum roll please. <brtrtrt> It snowed. I’m not kidding at all. Last Thursday it snowed about 2-3 inches. I’m still kind of in shock.  But anyway, I would like to focus more on recent events and less on the weather. lol

Elegant Evening was splendid fun. It was contra dancing similar to what I have done before, so knowledge helped make up for clumsiness. There were only a couple of guys (although most of the dads danced at least a couple and our caller danced almost all of the dances), so many of us had to dance as boys. It really doesn’t matter for this kind of dancing though, it can make it a bit confusing sometimes, but it does make it less awkward. It was great fun, and didn’t feel like three hours at all. Perhaps one, but certainly not three.

Last Tuesday (30th not the 7th) Meg, Claire and I gave our speeches. Megs was about alter egos, focusing on Superman, The Scarlet Pimpernel and Julia Child. It was really interesting and she did marvelously. My speech was quite fun. It was a demonstration on making apple cobbler in a dutch oven. Normally it wouldn’t have been to entertaining, but once I got done explaining what a dutch oven is and got into the cooking show it really kicked up. Literally  I started out by setting out my cartons of “ingredients”  (small cardboard boxes marked butter, sugar, flour and milk). I nonchalantly put the ingredients in my large bowl as I told the steps.  Then I took my wooden spoon and began pounding the boxes and mixing them up. Everyone in the room jumped when I first began beating boxes, and then laughed as I kept the gag up. It was wonderful fun, and it was going very well, but I got so caught up in it I lost my place and cut my ending short. It didn’t affect my score though and I don’t think the teacher noticed (at least she didn’t seem to when I mentioned it afterwards). Unfortunately, Claire gave her speech about Betta Fish (complete with live fish! Volucris was fine on the car ride to and from, but Claire got a little bit wet lol) as I was in the kitchen scooping up cobbler for everyone. 😦

Poetic Voices was right after debate, and it was brilliant. There were the usual cliche “woe is me, I am undone” poems, but there were also quite a few that really made me chuckle. Claire was the opener and did a fantastic job! Everyone laughed at all the right places! Meg did a wonderful job as well! She was so poised and elegant, tranquilly talking about leaves and then, their demise.  It was so funny! 😀 Mine went much better than last time! I didn’t hide behind my hair (thanks to my crochet hook) and a think I spoke clearly and with good tone. I may have been a bit close to the microphone though, and I coughed into it. Stupid allergies.

I know I already talked about my graduation, but I want to share something God is teaching me. I had been wondering how I was going to get the registration deposit together for my doula training, let alone pay for the rest of  it.  The total sum of my graduation gifts was almost exactly what I need to reserve a spot in the class. Ok God, You have my attention. You will provide everything I need.  I’m not wondering how to earn the money I need. I’m not wondering how to get a job or why even McDonalds hasn’t called me back. I may be curious, but He will take care of it.

I have some more news, but I’ll save that for Friday (hint)!

Geronimo!!