Why does acting reckless wind up in a wreck
When all you're trying to do is live your life.
Who controls your destiny, your mood, your needs, your you
When choices made are only half of "that's the way it goes."
What can a simple woman do
When the responsibilities, recreations, requirements, and roles
are too infinite and asunder to choose and to become.
Where is home as sacred rest
When it lies within the temple of your soul?
How to do and live each day
When I keep learning more that's new.
EGHeck
4.29.2018
1:24 a.m.
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
April 28, 2018
November 23, 2013
Spiraled and Caught
"These words are my own from my heart." -- Natasha Beddingfield
When did the times change?
I see our with new eyes today.
Where do the smiles hide?
Now the wind blows my thoughts away.
I thought I once knew everything--
or really, had learned SOME thing,
Yet now I sit stunned, silent, in stupor
As the scenes before my eyes deeply sting.
I know things are good;
Well, I think they are, anyway.
But somehow I'm saddened,
More distant than anything.
When have my cares taken over my joys?
I lack the freedom I once had to breathe.
I feel the tightness, the clenching that's deep in my chest
Which on ce used to float and cavort out with ease.
I could make bold decisions and leap for the chances
For latr drives, for movies, for running, for dances,
For pizza, for fellowship, for speaking, for leading.
Now instead, my soul is left pleading
For renewal of vows of the inmost degree,
For promises and spirit,
For some new sparked opportunities.
I feel like a shell that I'm spiraled and caught
That the world passes by me with no single thought.
That the world passes by me with
No
single
thought.
When did the times change?
I see our with new eyes today.
Where do the smiles hide?
Now the wind blows my thoughts away.
I thought I once knew everything--
or really, had learned SOME thing,
Yet now I sit stunned, silent, in stupor
As the scenes before my eyes deeply sting.
I know things are good;
Well, I think they are, anyway.
But somehow I'm saddened,
More distant than anything.
When have my cares taken over my joys?
I lack the freedom I once had to breathe.
I feel the tightness, the clenching that's deep in my chest
Which on ce used to float and cavort out with ease.
I could make bold decisions and leap for the chances
For latr drives, for movies, for running, for dances,
For pizza, for fellowship, for speaking, for leading.
Now instead, my soul is left pleading
For renewal of vows of the inmost degree,
For promises and spirit,
For some new sparked opportunities.
I feel like a shell that I'm spiraled and caught
That the world passes by me with no single thought.
That the world passes by me with
No
single
thought.
November 13, 2013
Patience
Morning:
6AM, no patience for the alarms
Despite their chirping birds, rushing waterfalls, or melodic spirals
715, no patience for the coffee perc'ing, the Eggos toasting, the puppy playing
745 the lights, the cars, the children's buses all get in my way
So much for my time before work starts.
Work:
An hour or so of winding through towers of teetering totter, emails and research and planning and forms
At 10 the bell rings as a death knell for Duncan
(My death is not murder, but no less betrayal)
As streaming from haphazard lives sally forth the aching, the tired, the lazy, the burdened,
The naiive, the dew-eyed, the kids wearing masks.
By 18 to 11 they've used up my patience:
I've answered their questions, I've told them my stories,
I've laughed at their jokes, and they've laughed at my foibles.
I've given them each my whole very best
And now, there is none for the rest.
Afternoon:
Twelve O'clock--Is it lunch? Can someone please handover the frozen dish I will munch?
Not quite enough time to finish the laugh, not enough to ingest while tasting some flavor.
The comments I choose must be carefully chosen as each spoken word only comes twice in a week
(There is too many'a showcase to describe of
To pause
For a second
To regain some peace.) And it's
Back
To the faces of unawares children
Not seeing the truths or experiences in life that I wish I had patience--
Or the luxury of patience--
To watch them grow into.
Instead it's more doldrum; the jokes have lost color.
The smile is now fake; the questions grow old.
Curiosity, once a praised beauty, is now only a hindrance that stops the
Evening:
4 or 5 or 630 or something, I pull in the driveway awaiting another adventure!
No adventure; we are too old for that.
Our new every morning is wrung out to dry by the time our home encompasses me.
The chipper puppy love brings a smile for a moment.
Cuddles are the only answer.
To restore peace to have patience:
Rest in the arms of the lover.
Dine on the savory indulgences of the day.
Leave behind the lost humanity of the day; it is gone with the questions in the wind.
Seek peace, seek peace, seek peace.
1004PM
11/13/13 egheck
6AM, no patience for the alarms
Despite their chirping birds, rushing waterfalls, or melodic spirals
715, no patience for the coffee perc'ing, the Eggos toasting, the puppy playing
745 the lights, the cars, the children's buses all get in my way
So much for my time before work starts.
Work:
An hour or so of winding through towers of teetering totter, emails and research and planning and forms
At 10 the bell rings as a death knell for Duncan
(My death is not murder, but no less betrayal)
As streaming from haphazard lives sally forth the aching, the tired, the lazy, the burdened,
The naiive, the dew-eyed, the kids wearing masks.
By 18 to 11 they've used up my patience:
I've answered their questions, I've told them my stories,
I've laughed at their jokes, and they've laughed at my foibles.
I've given them each my whole very best
And now, there is none for the rest.
Afternoon:
Twelve O'clock--Is it lunch? Can someone please handover the frozen dish I will munch?
Not quite enough time to finish the laugh, not enough to ingest while tasting some flavor.
The comments I choose must be carefully chosen as each spoken word only comes twice in a week
(There is too many'a showcase to describe of
To pause
For a second
To regain some peace.) And it's
Back
To the faces of unawares children
Not seeing the truths or experiences in life that I wish I had patience--
Or the luxury of patience--
To watch them grow into.
Instead it's more doldrum; the jokes have lost color.
The smile is now fake; the questions grow old.
Curiosity, once a praised beauty, is now only a hindrance that stops the
Evening:
4 or 5 or 630 or something, I pull in the driveway awaiting another adventure!
No adventure; we are too old for that.
Our new every morning is wrung out to dry by the time our home encompasses me.
The chipper puppy love brings a smile for a moment.
Cuddles are the only answer.
To restore peace to have patience:
Rest in the arms of the lover.
Dine on the savory indulgences of the day.
Leave behind the lost humanity of the day; it is gone with the questions in the wind.
Seek peace, seek peace, seek peace.
1004PM
11/13/13 egheck
October 1, 2013
Life on the Screen
Do you remember when I first loved you?
Do you think of the first time spoken?
There were crowds around me that day:
crowds ambling on their way to business
crowds nosing into the daily happenstance
crowds peeping in to see our faces (mine in real time, yours, a mere picture on a screen)
I told you then. I TOLD you then:
"Of course I love you."
And now...it's all too true.
"Of course I love you," when you snore instead of smile.
"Of course I love you," when you point and prod after a long, hard day.
"Of course I do," when questions becomes accusing.
"Of course," as water drips from my ever-leaking eyes.
Damn allergic eyes.
The sand surrounds us and swallows us whole.
The noise external obliterates the sweetness of whispers.
The traffic blocks the easy walks.
The rage and pressures eviscerate the calm and comfort.
The town of desperation swallows us whole.
I'm sinking now,
I'm sinking now,
(I'm sinking now)
into a discomfort lined with razors (the pointed edges, not the flat).
The pinpricks that surround me leave me no wiggle, wriggle, giggle room--
I see a cool and comfy spot!
--Oh wait.
It's just reflections from
the daggers
from the daggers of the razor blades of
broken hopes of
shattered dreams of
pieces of your face in a screen.
"Don't believe what you see on T.V."
Almost.
"Don't believe what you don't see in reality."
Do you think of the first time spoken?
There were crowds around me that day:
crowds ambling on their way to business
crowds nosing into the daily happenstance
crowds peeping in to see our faces (mine in real time, yours, a mere picture on a screen)
I told you then. I TOLD you then:
"Of course I love you."
And now...it's all too true.
"Of course I love you," when you snore instead of smile.
"Of course I love you," when you point and prod after a long, hard day.
"Of course I do," when questions becomes accusing.
"Of course," as water drips from my ever-leaking eyes.
Damn allergic eyes.
The sand surrounds us and swallows us whole.
The noise external obliterates the sweetness of whispers.
The traffic blocks the easy walks.
The rage and pressures eviscerate the calm and comfort.
The town of desperation swallows us whole.
I'm sinking now,
I'm sinking now,
(I'm sinking now)
into a discomfort lined with razors (the pointed edges, not the flat).
The pinpricks that surround me leave me no wiggle, wriggle, giggle room--
I see a cool and comfy spot!
--Oh wait.
It's just reflections from
the daggers
from the daggers of the razor blades of
broken hopes of
shattered dreams of
pieces of your face in a screen.
"Don't believe what you see on T.V."
Almost.
"Don't believe what you don't see in reality."
April 28, 2013
The Cardboard-Crate Life
The boxes have a pile again.
This time, there's plenty of furniture wrap, bubble wrap, newspaper, and label paper.
This time, I know what to expect.
I know what needs protecting.
I expect the goodbyes to be "I'll see you soon"s.
I expect the moving day will be filled with helping hands and end in a sweaty mess.
I expect tensions will be high as I try to organize each detail
as I try to direct the flow of delicate possessions
as I try to both hold onto the fond memories of this house and grieve for the life I now leave behind.
I expect some excitement and fear as I drive away with a car filled dangerously full.
I expect to have a new iPod playlist to distract me from the work.
I expect these things for that day.
As I look forward, I look back.
What happened last time? What happens this time?
I expect that I will know no one in this new town of new buildings and streets.
I expect that the "I'll see you soon"s will turn into mere imprints on the wind.
I expect that I will only know where the good food is once I am preparing to leave.
I expect the excitement will be dulled as there are no girlfriends to share it with when I get old.
I expect I'll learn a new way to drive with the "worst drivers ever."
I expect that another 15 pounds is waiting for me on the couch.
I expect I will just want to stay cuddled up in my new home on the furniture I know,
with the stuff I know, with the only person I know,
safe in the few things I know
Until I am too sad to try to get out.
Too lazy to build up new hobbies.
Too quiet to make any new friends.
Too "content" (or discontent) to mess up my routine.
I can't let this happen again; I have no patience for the doldrums.
I can't survive in a cardboard-crate life.
I need the touch of grass, the breath of breezes, and the laughter of water.
I need to reconnect with humanity and Earth.
I need a place to settle in that's more than just a house--a home.
This time, there's plenty of furniture wrap, bubble wrap, newspaper, and label paper.
This time, I know what to expect.
I know what needs protecting.
I expect the goodbyes to be "I'll see you soon"s.
I expect the moving day will be filled with helping hands and end in a sweaty mess.
I expect tensions will be high as I try to organize each detail
as I try to direct the flow of delicate possessions
as I try to both hold onto the fond memories of this house and grieve for the life I now leave behind.
I expect some excitement and fear as I drive away with a car filled dangerously full.
I expect to have a new iPod playlist to distract me from the work.
I expect these things for that day.
As I look forward, I look back.
What happened last time? What happens this time?
I expect that I will know no one in this new town of new buildings and streets.
I expect that the "I'll see you soon"s will turn into mere imprints on the wind.
I expect that I will only know where the good food is once I am preparing to leave.
I expect the excitement will be dulled as there are no girlfriends to share it with when I get old.
I expect I'll learn a new way to drive with the "worst drivers ever."
I expect that another 15 pounds is waiting for me on the couch.
I expect I will just want to stay cuddled up in my new home on the furniture I know,
with the stuff I know, with the only person I know,
safe in the few things I know
Until I am too sad to try to get out.
Too lazy to build up new hobbies.
Too quiet to make any new friends.
Too "content" (or discontent) to mess up my routine.
I can't let this happen again; I have no patience for the doldrums.
I can't survive in a cardboard-crate life.
I need the touch of grass, the breath of breezes, and the laughter of water.
I need to reconnect with humanity and Earth.
I need a place to settle in that's more than just a house--a home.
October 26, 2012
"I celebrate & sing myself"
“I celebrate & sing myself”
(a poem inspired by Walt Whitman)
I sing myself in words that fill my life
Words
that share myself with yours
that
share my heart with yours
that
share my eyes with your imaginings
But I am ever blind, then see—
again, again I learn again
stories
(and dreams)
of who I am again.
Somedays I am the scholar,
with unquenching thirst for knowledge and numbers
(blind to feelings or practicality)
Somedays I am the
homemaker, with aromas (paprika and pinesol)
pervasive along with ordered chaos
Yet other days I am the
sloth, with chocolate, popcorn, and tactile-glee
(blind by shutting out the daily pressures on myself)
But most of all, on most of
days
I’m merely just the rolling tide of
emotion, feeling, empathy, misery
that I embrace with emerald pools for eyes.
I share myself with you and take your share of you
because only in our life together
(with God & nature and water & things)
does life mean anything in song
Elizabeth Gay
1.11.2012
910am
September 13, 2011
Vulnerable (First Draft)
Vulnerable
You are the voice in the distance
That wakens me, in the darkness, to smile.
Away from the speed, away from the cars, away from the lights that
Blind and distract and expose and illuminate!
The deep recesses of holes and longing.
You are the voice in the distance
That wakens me, in the darkness, to smile.
Away from the speed, away from the cars, away from the lights that
Blind and distract and expose and illuminate!
The deep recesses of holes and longing.
August 13, 2011
Flame Cocoon (unedited)
Flame Cocoon
"Consume me from the inside out"
And burn my flesh away.
Purify the blanket shell
And make the truthfull hearness stay.
Rid the plague that now does loom
From mighty mount to darkened dune.
"Consume me from the inside out"
And burn my flesh away.
Purify the blanket shell
And make the truthfull hearness stay.
Rid the plague that now does loom
From mighty mount to darkened dune.
October 20, 2010
My roommate is a brain.
Response to Poetic "Simplicity"
My roommate is a brain.
While the lights outside are dimming-
While my thoughts are fervent swimming-
While I, I sit alone.
No sound she makes, but lumps & gushes.
As lights would rise: be lightened!
I struggle holding onto thoughts:
spinning, thinning, multiplying,
feasting, expanding, spreading,
tensing, fighting, making...
Too many to write.
Too many to hold.
Too many to think.
But at least there is the brain that is my roommate.
EG
Oct 20, 2010
1:15pm
My roommate is a brain.
While the lights outside are dimming-
While my thoughts are fervent swimming-
While I, I sit alone.
No sound she makes, but lumps & gushes.
As lights would rise: be lightened!
I struggle holding onto thoughts:
spinning, thinning, multiplying,
feasting, expanding, spreading,
tensing, fighting, making...
Too many to write.
Too many to hold.
Too many to think.
But at least there is the brain that is my roommate.
EG
Oct 20, 2010
1:15pm
September 3, 2010
English goes NOM
English goes NOM
A human death is tragedy
But in a book - a novelty.
With names of men just mere creations
That rule a farm or grow the nations
Or travel to islands near & afar
In spaceships, through tunnels, or rides in a car;
Snaking and sliding further & further in - -
With victory, with sadness, with triumph, with sin.
I can see it all from the comfort of my chair-
With a lamp, with a light, with a drink, with a pear.
Consume me, O Book that can bring me to living
The lives I haven't been given.
Take me to the worlds unseen
By my little self, so simple, green.
You give companions I wish to hold
Through love upwelling & secrets (un)told
I see the truth, yet question the points
That be in my life & heaven anoints.
I live through the words that dance there before me
Where language consumes: the land of possibility.
Elizabeth Gay
1005am
9.3.10
*express the loss of control under the influence of poetic/literary words
A human death is tragedy
But in a book - a novelty.
With names of men just mere creations
That rule a farm or grow the nations
Or travel to islands near & afar
In spaceships, through tunnels, or rides in a car;
Snaking and sliding further & further in - -
With victory, with sadness, with triumph, with sin.
I can see it all from the comfort of my chair-
With a lamp, with a light, with a drink, with a pear.
Consume me, O Book that can bring me to living
The lives I haven't been given.
Take me to the worlds unseen
By my little self, so simple, green.
You give companions I wish to hold
Through love upwelling & secrets (un)told
I see the truth, yet question the points
That be in my life & heaven anoints.
I live through the words that dance there before me
Where language consumes: the land of possibility.
Elizabeth Gay
1005am
9.3.10
*express the loss of control under the influence of poetic/literary words
January 26, 2010
Finding One? Or Settling with the Multitudes?
She plays the game. She buys the ruse.
He's just a man; jardly worth her time.
But he's got the words, the art, the articulation
That will send her sweet tintillation.
She speaks back with coyish flutters and false gaspings.
All along she slides closer and closer
With voices that say no
And lips that say go...
"Nervous and shy for the moment we will come alive"
She knows these are the rules
That draw him into her
That bind her (under fur)
So it's the call and the illusion that she does love;
And give her precious breaths,
With passion pulling him with her hips
Deep kisses, warm skin, light-fingertips
And ecstasy she can find in the arms of a man
The look to the strong, heavy chest
Enveloping her from above
Descending upon her body like a dove
To rise to the greatest of pleasures, screaming in the dark
Soft moans and grips from within
Bring her a joy uncaptured on her own
Yet is she still alone?
*Lyrics songs from:
"Six Feet Under the Stars" All Time Low
"Secret Valentine" We The Kings
He's just a man; jardly worth her time.
But he's got the words, the art, the articulation
That will send her sweet tintillation.
She speaks back with coyish flutters and false gaspings.
All along she slides closer and closer
With voices that say no
And lips that say go...
"Nervous and shy for the moment we will come alive"
She knows these are the rules
That draw him into her
That bind her (under fur)
So it's the call and the illusion that she does love;
And give her precious breaths,
With passion pulling him with her hips
Deep kisses, warm skin, light-fingertips
And ecstasy she can find in the arms of a man
The look to the strong, heavy chest
Enveloping her from above
Descending upon her body like a dove
To rise to the greatest of pleasures, screaming in the dark
Soft moans and grips from within
Bring her a joy uncaptured on her own
Yet is she still alone?
*Lyrics songs from:
"Six Feet Under the Stars" All Time Low
"Secret Valentine" We The Kings
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