Spanish bluebells plopped hastily in a green jug.
I am working on building up courage and physical stamina to participate in a woman-celebrating poetry night at one of my favourite cafes. I'm told other art forms are welcome too so I am thinking of bringing some artwork along as well. It's in a week and in that time I hope to complete one more portrait, edit my poems and select a few to read. I thought I would share a few early drafts here.
Of the wisest words the sages tell
It's "Pick one thing and do it well"
That to me is only senseless babble
Because I rather like to dabble.
So yesterday I took a class
On how to build a house with glass.
Then later on I had to learn
Just how to use a butter churn,
Because I've been watching Martha Stewart
And she makes it seem there's nothing to it.
Just make a gourmet feast for ten
And learn to keep Rhode Island hen.
Plant a garden, build a shed.
It's a good thing, Martha said.
Sew a quilt and paint the walls,
Hook carpets for the entry halls.
There's one more thing to do today-
Go out and pick a fresh bouquet.
Arrange it in a hollow melon.
Why do we listen to this felon?
Lessons From the Women
Be you, be fierce, be strong
Be bold and loud-laugh and talk
Wear red lipstick and green eyeshadow
But only if you wish to.
Be fat, be thin, be bald, wear hats or bows
In your hair.
What you look like isn't who you are
Unless you want it to be.
Be gentle and still, be quiet.
Crochet blankets, tend the garden
Speak softly and carry a large paddle.
If this is right for you.
Stay home. Go out. Dance or sleep-
Be who you are and love who you are....
Then love others.
Embrace your sisters for they
Are as you Are: All of these things
Or none of these things.
I expect my brain to work miracles, I think.
I sit down and say to it, ‘Okay now, write something brilliant’.
Because I know there are some brilliant thoughts
And deep insights in there somewhere.
I sense them.
Mostly just when I am about to fall asleep.
I expect other people to be nice.
Really nice, because I am nice and it seems so easy.
I don’t take any credit for it so if I can do it
So can you.
But some people aren’t nice.
And I am always, ALWAYS surprised.
I expect my body to be perfect and I don’t even
Know what that means really but
I have a vague idea based on models and fitness and
Photoshopped images but it’s more than that.
I expect health and stamina and vigour
And it eludes me.
I read that we should let go of expectations
And just be grateful for what comes.
Don’t do that-you can get hurt that way-really hurt.
We have to figure out what to expect and what not to
We have to figure out who we are and where we are
I expect this to take a lifetime.
I love you, chubby ankles
I love you, thickened waist.
Shhhh-yes I am lying-but
At least now I am trying
And refuse to be erased.
How I Carry On
Oh, I do drugs, you know
But just the legal kind,
Or else the daily ebb and flow
Would wash away my mind.
The pit so dark and deep where I
Sit slumped in the bottom slime and
Slippery, muddy walls so high
Prove impossible to climb.
Send me a ladder, or at least a rope.
Don’t leave me to struggle in vain.
Each one of us must cling to hope
And get on our path again.
My journey’s one you do not know.
The path I take is mine.
Each one of us has our way to go
And we find that way in time.
I just take each day as it will come,
Expect nothing beyond a new dawn.
I know it’s easier said than done
But it’s how I carry on.