Hear myself out

This is one poem in a series from the “Write to Recover” group I facilitate. I put them together from phrases that resonate with me while participants read, adding nothing but punctuation and the occasional conjunction. This one is comprised of the words of four participants who were writing on the theme, “Your own voice.

Distractions of the necessary,

Ants scurrying around the concrete of life.

 

But I am not spineless;

My spirit can fly.

A shimmer of aliveness,

Fresh,

Like a baby carries a big lot of love.

 

I remain quiet

To protect my being,

The true essence of me;

This gnarly mess–

My very “I am” self,

A fresh flowing fearless frequency.

 

Sit gently like

A grain of sand in time — rock time

To hear myself out,

Another human hand holding hope, and

Nurture lovingly and meaningfully

Because I am real and worthy of love.

I am alive and not ashes in the ground

This the ninth in a series of poems from the “Write to Recover” group I facilitate. I put them together from phrases that resonate with me while participants read. I add nothing but punctuation and the occasional conjunction. This one is comprised of the words of four participants who were writing on the prompt, “To move forward I must…

I have many lessons to learn;
Unlearn things that don’t work,
The too many “shoulds,”
The crazy thinking as a child that has settled
On my shoulders and my heart.

I only get in my way,
A little boy lost in a big wood.
Everything’s discombobulated, but
One step at a time I will move forward.

I have overcome what could have destroyed me —
I am alive and not ashes in the ground!

I have to be upbeat to keep up
And there will be some hellos and some goodbyes.
But I’m able to walk straight,
Leaving the ill-fated voices behind.

I’m the flower lady,
Blooming everywhere.
I have learned to be happy,
The peace I have been looking for…

Never forget me.

I’m strong enough to live through hell

This the eighth in a series of poems from the “Write to Recover” group I facilitate. I put them together from phrases that resonate with me while participants read. I add nothing but punctuation and the occasional conjunction. This one is comprised of the words of seven participants who were writing on the prompt, “I have learned…”

train

My fear is to melt
Into the status of a nothing.
I’m already quite empty,
There’s just this comfort place inside my head.

Sick people with good intentions
Draw me back into the insanity, where
Behind the smile is a knife,
Under the mean is fear.

Fear’s right in front of me on that
Train back to hell.

I need stilts to boost me into the sky
Where I will not get sucked in.
Thoughts can be redefined —
I can be accountable,
Live without the chase to drugs.

I want to preserve humanity
Build people, walk with them
Connect with everybody,
To be a part of life, a life with hope.

It’s OK to fail –- but I passed.

The day is here and
I feel strong.
I will find peace and make
Sense out of insanity
In the cracks and crevices of my gray matter.

I keep coming back to the best of me.
There is always something better waiting.
I can give myself a break without breaking myself
Because
I’m strong enough to live through hell.

I simply decided to live

This the fifth in a series of poems from the “Write to Recover” group I facilitate. I put them together from phrases that resonate with me while participants read. I add nothing but punctuation and the occasional conjunction. This one is comprised of the words of five participants.

bricks

Sometimes the way is right in front of you.

Dancing fool that I am,

Breaking down a wall

To feel OK with myself;

Scraping away the negative words

I learn my own true vision.

~
I came from another planet named womb,

A learning person

With fear of being whole.

~
But fear can motivate,

And I simply decided to live!

~
Aware of a new life, I’ve been given time

Tick tock…

Constant contact with God,

No stop signs in sight.

I feel whole now, whole when connected.

~
Yes, I can:

Make my world bright and colorful;

Elaborate my need to be on this planet;

Remove the hate.

~
Paint my life in print —

My beautiful creation,

I will see it through.

Respect me in my uniqueness

Because now it is time to rest.


Me is who I am

I put this poem together from phrases written in the “Write to Recover” group I facilitate. Writing down phrases that caught my ear (and heart) while they shared, snippets of poems just appeared. We all have a poet inside when we get out of our own way and let the words flow. This one is comprised of the words of six participants.

 

giftbox

~

I had to lie to survive.

Gift of desperation,

A box that could never be opened.

Leaving myself behind,

Demons by my side,

Colors fading to pale.

~

But I don’t want to wear a blindfold.

I must stop making excuses —

I am ready for release;

Gain control by letting go of control.

Because that’s my problem: I think.

It is a gift to clean the mess.

~

Obstacles can be fun

When energies align.

I stepped over my dilemma

Into a friendly good morning and

A better understanding of myself.

For that I’m so grateful!

The beginning of color is here —

Brought me a new love.

~

So now, I speak from my heart:

~

Me is who I am

I’m pretty damn good

I’m bat-shit crazy.

So here I am —

I’m part of the whole

I am all and all is me…

This story has yet to see its end

I put this poem together from phrases written in the “Write to Recover” group I facilitate. Writing down phrases that caught my ear (and heart) while they shared, snippets of poems just appeared. We all have a poet inside when we get out of our own way and let the words flow.

booksTrying to get out of this body — childhood prison.

No one noticed me

dreaming of ice cream and donuts, dope –-

brain food –-

kicking my spirits into space.

Uselessness of my imagination,

ideas disintegrate into dust.

Give me a break! Why am I doing this everyday?

It’s all been said before.

But!

I’m letting go of the demons in my head;

stop being who I am and become who I am supposed to be.

I am in control of me.

I feel love, it never left me — there are cracks I can get my fingers into.

This story has yet to see its end;

I’m onto the next right thing:

The best me I can be.

W.O.R.D.S.: Acceptance (or what is good poetry?)

The W.O.R.D.S. Project (Words Open Resonating Depths of the Sacred): A weekly alphabetical search for questions.*

giftboxAcceptance

Allow the words of judgement to be

Cast off into dust.

Care, fully, as a mother who

Encourages her children,

Pushing with a gentle arm and

Tales of loving persistence,

Announce yourself ENOUGH!

No more bullying in silent

Creation of a weakened soul. No!

Ease open your heart to accept the unique gift of You.

At this debut of my new project I immediately want to tell you that I don’t claim to be a poet. But that would be a bit incongruous with the subject matter. This project is not about poetry and whether is it good or not is kind of beside the point.

I wanted the words to just come, not from a place of thinking, but from a place of feeling. If I tried to write “good poetry” (which, by the way, according to a workshop I recently attended is defined as 1. Well-crafted 2. Affecting 3. Beautifully worded 4. Memorable) I would be using my ego rather than my body to write it. I accept whatever comes, trusting that there will be deeper meaning than I could ever plan to say by trying to figure out what I should say.

I was once in a workshop at Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health with Hari Kirin Khalsa. At one point during an arduous meditation which, in my mind, I was doing, oh, so complete wrong, Khalsa said: “Do what you can, whatever it is, it is perfect. Even if you just imagine yourself doing it, it is exactly right.”

She told us to, “Release Expectation! Whatever you have is enough to give. Whatever happens is enough.”

Acceptance is giving yourself permission to be a learner. To be learning. To fail. To make mistakes. A “mistake” is just another name for new knowledge. Judging sends you hurling backwards into self-doubt. Acceptance pushes you forward to self-confidence and enlightenment.

So, I may not be a “good” poet but I accept that my poem is absolutely perfect!

Prompt: “I am enough! I accept this about myself…”

~~~

*This project is an off-shoot of the work I did for my graduate degree where I used Words to help heal from my negative indoctrination from “The Word.” Words are powerful agents for transformation! (Thesis/Final Project: Calling Little Gypsy Home: Reclaiming Voice Through Expressive Writing and the Sacred Feminine; Memoir: Sing from the Womb: Leaving Fundamentalism in Search in Voice.)