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Day 2 on the journey with my parents to Florida…..
.
time
Dead End
he came back
when the sky was crying
and said a speech
we were supposed to understand
and by the time the water turned
he was long gone
evaporated
with a residue of truth
well, if I got it
I never let on
and with new life
the dead end where we’d begun
the climb
under the forest canopy
you just might join me
if you could just find me
he came back
when the sky was friendly
but didn’t preach
what we couldn’t stand
and by the time the candle burned
we were long gone
carbon-dated
with the residue of youth
well, if I got it
I never let on
and with new life
the dead end where we’d begun
the climb
Copyright L.M. 2008.
Sunray Venus Shell
a sugar cane beauty
a strapping young doll
no one could claim they were
not jealous at all
half Carolina princess
half sweet Georgia peach
this bleached ray of sun was found
washed up on the beach
she had several bruises
between her tan lines
yet no one could solve this
indelible crime
it wasn’t the first time
and it won’t be the last time
keep swimming girl
keep floating away
your arms on the waves girl
you’re safer that way
(and that’s how you’ll stay)
time came for confessions
her journal was read
seemed no one had heard
the warnings she’d said
there was something in her head
so she swam ashore instead
keep swimming girl
keep floating away
your arms are the waves girl
and you’re safer this way
keep swimming girl
you’ve a lifetime to pray
your arms are the waves girl
and that’s how you’ll stay
your arms are the waves girl
it’s better this way
Copyright L.M. 2008. (written February 26th, 2008.).
Path Away
face
distraction
pain
and greed
look
around you
face
your need
time
has taught you
only
to lead
(so) break
the mold now
be free
I’ve wanted so much for you
more than you wanted me to
footsteps could lead me away
or bring me right back to you
upon the houses
the rain starts to fall
upon the benches
it drenches them all
and I’ve seen your light
it shines through the night
and upon the streets
far below
Copyright L.M. 2008.
A Word of Grace (December 2006)
it’s in her style
paths of words streaming
seeming
beaming
their peace upon us all
as we sing out delight
at the voice in our heads
perhaps mouthed in pain
or wreathing
or the simple hurt of breathing
barely there and yet
a final stanza’s set
forgiving all we weren’t
unopened in the eyes of many
sitting all alone
in waiting and impatience
wondering at such
use of passive tense
for not all eyes can see
splendid verbose beauty
but sit here we
gliding fingers highlight text
whose passion rises ours
left only to second-guess
whose life personified
yours or his
hers or mine
ignorant of time
and so it settles
her adorning mind
Copyright L.M. 2006.
(My sister had a different interpretation for this poem when she read it; she thought it was about the Virgin Mary….. have another read and you might see why she, and I now too, can glean that meaning from it…..)
Stalemate
I have a sight
I thought somewhere near
takes me a while to
to…..
well I should have lost it
perhaps
maybe
somehow
did
inside it burns
and I shiver
you know it’s cold
so very cold
I’m not hopeless
just delusional
apparently
and to make up
for all the lost time
somehow started
to believe in fairytales
masochistic? probably
I’ve heard it heals
or bides time
with other distraction
sort of like me
I guess that’s ironic
but really, not hopeless
that’s part problem
you see why
it’s the hope that kills
if I were numb
oh to be numb
I would lose fear
I would lose pain
I would lose anger
I would lose love
well, you’ve taught me
you can’t win them all
in my year of luck
my precious months
a troubled match
a frightened soul
helped onto my plate
peppered with perfection
here and there
and when that bell begins
I will be a mistake
and another chapter
in a drama
whose clout extends
far beyond
the amusing present time
I’m sleepless
and you know why
and you won’t tell me
I’m walking the lines
with chains around my neck
ball bearings in my throat
and hands behind my back
and I say “I’m starved”
and you say you’re tired
but give me food
that I can’t eat, smell, see
and say it ought to be enough
but death takes its toll
bending all rules
portraying life as such
well you feel remorse
but upon the next
bestow a fresh nothing
ready to be devoured
and kill another
just like before me
me
and after me
I’m still sleepless
could you tell me why?
I did have a dream though
yes I had to wake you up
you transformed
into the jerk
and I couldn’t get you to leave
I awoke frightened
with the door open
do you realize
character and honesty
can both be judged
by ignoring words altogether
and looking
solely
on what you do
so in this pretend world
this fantasy of yours
some things bleed
into mine
and I try to see
subtract the you
subtract the me
to look right through
to reality
but look at me
I play the fool
I’m just the tool
to set you free
of memory
of any need
of honesty
responsibility
respectability
honour, value
worth, and truth
you see, all these
I could be for you
but that fantasy
well it bleeds too
into one which you
have saved for me
I still can’t sleep
and I blame you
Copyright L.M. 2007.
The Impossible Point
Philosophy came early to me; I guess I always used to think a lot. When it came time to sharpen my pencil, I’d often stare at the sharpest tip I could make, and realize how it was still rounded. That’s when I came up with my Impossible Point idea. Of course, it wasn’t new, and it certainly wasn’t Earth-shattering. But it was at an early age, and without outside influence. I just thought a lot. I’d try to tell my friends (the ones who thought for themselves) and they would argue that no, I just wasn’t sharpening it enough. They didn’t get it.
It was through those eyes that I realized how things aren’t always as they seem; when under a magnifying glass, everything changes. Or, sometimes, it’s the exact opposite. Sometimes, when looking too hard, when focusing too much on something near, you miss the main picture — you entirely miss the point.
And it’s always important to see the point….. rounded or not.
Awake
swirling
I thought I saw an icicle
stemming from a cushioned write
it’s dog eat dog tonight
clasping
sentiments historically benign
tumbling down the courteous ravine
spelling my saviour’s name unseen
tracing
necklaces with shimmery cold
a paradigm wrestles common sense
and serves the muse’s bitter defense
closing
a time with the wild
synchronizing all the notes of the break
and lulls me into a new awake
Finished: 6:42 a.m., Tuesday, November 27th, 2007.
Copyright L.M. 2007.
My Spontaneous Field Trip
Today I went to Miller Hall’s geology museum, just for a visit. It’s been a while since I’ve been, and seeing as I pulled another all-nighter last night, it was raining, and the lights looked so inviting, I figured it was about time.
I started off by looking at the selection of rocks and minerals used in Geology class for first year engineers, which involved a little wistful reflection of those times so many years ago when we had to perform all the tests on the samples to determine their properties and later their names. I always have loved Geology, but I was going through so much during that time, I couldn’t even enjoy it then. 😦 I moved on to the end of the hall, where they had a few little samples of random rocks, and then I backtracked to my favourite part: the collection of meteorites. I had my music on high, and just immersed myself. It was wonderful. Peaceful. There’s also the additional effect it has on me, based on feelings I have toward nature (see the post directly below this for more info on that), so it was really a good mental break.
I then moved to the main room, where there appeared to be a class trip for some French-speaking kids, maybe grade 5 or so. I turned my music up and toured around, stopping at some of my favourites — the tall amethyst sliced-in-half-geode, galena, pyrite, azurite, the gorgeous chalcopyrite, molybdenum, smithsonite, sodalite, tourmaline, and of course all kinds of quartz….. and yes, I did just go to a random minerals site alphabetically 🙂 There were, of course, many others, but far be it from me to remember what they were. I’m always kind of surprised they don’t have (or maybe I just can’t find it) one of my favourites, lab-made bismuth. I had one once, and it disappeared somewhere, but it had what I just found out is called “hopper” qualities — where basically the mineral forms an empty cube without a top, and then stacks these box-like structures all over itself in really neat designs. It’s also got some iridescence going on, which is always pretty neat. Oh, and there was ulexite, which I love to look at because it has fiber-optic properties. Very cool.
I love just going to places like that randomly, it’s so inspirational and relaxing at the same time. It was also nice to see some of the children fascinated in the minerals, while the others ran around yelling. Haha, I guess it brought me back to my youth….. not a bad place to visit every once in a while….. 🙂
Beautiful Blue, Beautiful You
In high school, I came up with a shade of blue.
It was beautiful — a combination of sky blue, light mauve, baby blue.
Every day as I’d walk through the hallways, I’d look up through the windows as I passed to see if today was a Beautiful Blue day, and, if it was, it was a good day. It became difficult in winter to keep my spirits up, as the cold depresses me sometimes, but if there was a patch where I saw Beautiful Blue skies, it would lift me up and give me strength.
I love nature like others love religion. In fact, to a certain degree, I equate the two. This is really very personal but why not…… in my egotistical mind, I would see the colour showing up as a sign, a spiritual offering of a hand to help me stand again — or, if I was already standing, would help lift me to happiness — or, if I was already happy, would help lift me to elation. Natural beauty is something that never replicates; each instance really is a moment in time to treasure. You will never have that exact opportunity again to feel its presence, its power, your part in it all. All you can hope for, if you shun that moment, is another chance. It is likely for this reason that I have become a fervent advocate of spontaneity; part of carpe diem requires the ability to forgo plans and live for the moment as it presents itself. Part of beauty is unpredictability.
Beautiful Blue might look different to others. As much as I describe it, I will never know if anyone else sees the exact shade I do — not that I believe myself to be the only one capable, but when you take into account differences of perception, differences of colour receptor cones in the eyes, differences perhaps of data transmission between cones and the brain?…… but this Beautiful Blue, to me, is nothing less than hope itself, embodied in a shade of pure beauty.
A couple years after I’d begun this tradition of sky-searching at school and elsewhere, I was listening to the radio and heard the DJ mention a new song was going to be played by an artist whose songs I knew and liked. The artist: Holly McNarland. The title: Beautiful Blue. This initially stunned me. Then, my senses came around and I realized: to others, they were simply two words strung together, and could be used to describe a multitude of things…… I suppose. This is what she has to say about her song:
“The big song [on the cd], ‘Beautiful Blue,’ came a week before the
last time we went into the studio,” she says. “That was shortly
after September 11. It’s not about that, but the whole vibe, the
whole doomsday thing, was pretty apparent, and I was just
hanging out with my son. In the middle of all of this tragedy,
I would wake up and have this perfect little angel by my side.”¹
It’s a beautiful song; I loved it immediately, and not simply for the connection I had with it. One day I’d like to perform it live — in a way, to realize another dream of mine, as I’ve already recently been given the opportunity to realize one of my life dreams of being part of a band. I don’t want to suggest it, as it’s not particularly in the style we perform, but I figure that the opportunity will somehow present itself at some point in my life — just like the song did initially — if it is meant to be interpreted by my (in comparison) highly unqualified voice. This is not a case for carpe diem, after all; this is a chance to see just where my Beautiful Blue will guide me next.
So, my dear readers, after I expose my vulnerable nature to all your mysteriously faceless souls, I ask you: what is your Beautiful Blue?
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