eeyore_grrl: (carey purple streaks)

			the gauntlet

I stand in mountain pose, eyes closed
			       arms to my sides
			       tailbone and neck aligned
			       breathing in peace and calm
			       breathing out stress and pain

i stand

i breathe

i am ready for the day
        ready to face the gauntlet


eyes slowly open
	(i am alive)
arms stretch up to reach the heavens
 	(i am alive)

step follows step, I begin to walk the corridor
		soldiers on each side
		armed with maces and words
step follows step, the maces bite and the words sting

i fear the words more
	i could run through avoid bodily damage with duck and cover techniques
	i could run through with wounds minor enough to heal
but a gauntlet of trained voices is impossible to avoid

i prepare with cotton in my ears
i prepare to run on through
i prepare my shields

and step follows step, once more unto the breach
i walk forward, their maces are held at the ready
but it is the words I hear, the words that bruise my heart
i gather my energy, my power, my beliefs
	i continue through this gauntlet
	i try to let the words bounce
    	i try to accept and dispute
	i try
	i try
		and i fail
panic at my fingertips 
my breath is faltering
i tremble

I stand in mountain pose, eyes closed
			       arms to my sides
			       tailbone and neck aligned
			       breathing in peace and calm
			       breathing out stress and pain

i pass through the gauntlet

i am alive

i am well.

See and hear me read it here:

eeyore_grrl: (carey purple streaks)

                                                         bombs fall
                                                         bullets fly 
i watch from the sidelines
protect and serve
protect my friends
            my countrymen
            my brothers-in-arms
protect them with my eye on the enemy
                     with my sight surrounding them
                                           ready to respond


                                                                                       that’s what i do

i don’t claim the glory    
i don’t want to
       	i want to get out of this uniform
	i want to get out
			   of this war

and i have to admit that i’m using as this as metaphor
	i don’t know the first thing about war
		about snipers or planning
	i only know tv
	i only know that i care
		that i look out for others
			watching their backs as they walk into the world
				bumbling or standing tall
			i am there to as safety
					     as backup
				just a phone call away
			a voice of safety to strangers

	and i watch my son play in the sand
			run up stairs and fly down slides
		i watch
		i protect from the sidelines
			praying that i never have to intercede
			remembering the times i’ve failed
				holding back my helicopter tendencies
			the playground is not a war

This was written for LJ Idol Season 9, Week 25. Read other entries here:

See and hear me read it here:
eeyore_grrl: (carey purple streaks)


i’ve always meant to learn karate or tae kwon do, 
		arm myself with self-defense

block with the arm, sweep with the leg

i’ve always meant to learn to fight back
			to not be weak
			    not be a victim

		to be strong

but i’ve met obstacles
	had voices, loud and clear
	shout at me that i am no good
	shout at me that i am weak
	remind me that i am vulnerable

and every hit to my ego
	every scare
		or dangerous situation
	reminds me that i never took the time
		that i never found the strength
		to take that class in martial arts
				     in self-defense
learned to block any blows that may come my way
	to block any words that strike like fists and knives
learned to take an attacker down with a sweep of the leg
	to sweep the footing out from self-doubt

i never learned to fight and win
	perhaps the time has come
	to block with the arm, sweep with the leg

		declare myself victorious
		         safe and sound

This was written for LiveJournal Idol season 9, Week 22. Please read the rest of the entries (or some, at least) and vote for your favorites here: LINK TO BE ADDED.

You can see and hear me read this poem here:
eeyore_grrl: (carey purple streaks)


my poems stand on all fours
   desire and compassion dripping from their teeth
they’re wild, free,

                and hungry

it’s difficult to tell if they are friend or foe
	these wild animals    staring at me
			           demanding attention
				 demanding ink 
they feed on energy
	     on time
	     on practice

they feed on what’s inside of me
they feed on me

these beasts did not start as origami
				gentle, dainty, and fiddly
they started when i was young
	when i was born in a waterfall from my mother’s womb

they started when i first put a blade to my body 
				allowing the beasts to taste my blood
they grew with my tears
		  my fears
	my desires to live and to die

the beasts demand out
      to no longer live in my fingertips
					restrained, contained
they demand
	and i succumb

eeyore_grrl: (carey purple streaks)
In Another Castle

there is a castle
where unicorns frolic and mate
there is always a rainbow overhead
and apparently SSRIs are flowing in the water
because the people are always ready with a genuine smile
and that just confuses me, but there it is, even the servants feel loved
the castle is etched in jewels
and the royalty is always kind, caring, and giving
if there were fair elections they would win by a landslide

meanwhile, in another castle, i’m the fucking queen
and i’m not entirely sure what that means

the unicorns won’t step foot near my lands
for fear of the constant crossfire
it’s us against we
and my castle shows the battle scars from this civil war

broadway musicals are belted from the crenellations
songs of misery and woe
it’s our battle cry

“At the end of the day you're another day colder
And the shirt on your back doesn't keep out the chill
And the righteous hurry past
They don't hear the little ones crying
And the plague is coming on fast, ready to kill
One day nearer to dying!”

the royalty and servants from the first castle look at us as a warning
a lesson to be learned about how not to be a fairy tale
how not to be happy
how not to be

*Song Lyrics from Les Miserables; At the End of the Day

This was written for LiveJournal Idol 9,
Voting link will be updated here later. HERE IS THE VOTING LINK; I AM IN TRIBE 3.

Hear and see me read it by simply clicking here:
eeyore_grrl: (carey purple streaks)
Black tea with milk and sugar. The sounds of play dough being played with (clicks, clacks, and self-talk) coming from the next room.

I sit at the table, round, wooden, with a claw-foot pedestal, thinking about who I am. There is always the list method, narrowing myself into bullet points. Or the quoting others method, using words that sing of my heart. Or the rambling monologue method… I think that’s the one I’ll use.

I’m nearly 39 years old, married, homeowner, mother of one. We have two cats and I hope to get a fish that I can keep alive at some point. Once and future special education teacher; in other words, I taught for a decade and will return to it (barring unforeseen circumstances) once my son is in school. I’m a transplant where I live, from lower-upstate New York to Silicon Valley, California. And while I’m not happy about the drought, I’m sure glad I wasn’t living in NY this winter.

I believe in the Oxford comma and still put two spaces between sentences by sheer force of muscle memory.

I believe in the power of poetry. I’m sure you will see some from me this season as you did in the mini-seasons. It’s what I do, after all.


eeyore_grrl: (Default)

September 2017



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