Much More Beautiful

Wow.

Big Daddy was right. And SO quickly.

One thing that makes me really happy in life ( something I was reminded of today) is that I can say whatever the FUCK I want.

That’s right.

Right here? This is my place.

And I? I can say whatever I want.

That’s glorious! Big Daddy never asks me to censor myself. He is secure in who he is, naturally dominant. He knows that words are the VERY most important thing to me. And to restrict them would be death.

I would die inside.

And I want to shine.

I am much more beautiful when I shine.

End of a Day

“Mommy!”

He kept them up last night till I got home from overtime. It was like heaven.

“Mommy! Mommy! I got all smiley faces!!”

“Mommmmmeeee mommmeeeee potty!”

She with the blackish brown eyes ran at me and hugged my belly.

The LittleOne ran at me and hugged my legs. A blond and brown pony tail met my eyes as I looked down at my babies, my growing, loving babies that I created. I carried. I care for.

“Ok, back here to finish your stories.” My Love is beaming from the bed, knowing he did a nice, RIGHT thing, proud of himself for lasting ONE MORE DAY as a single dad while I work the 7 to 7 overtime. More money for our struggling family. The little pony tails bounce back to the bed. They climb up, but still face me, chattering like sparrows.

“Mommy, I have a splinter you need to get out.” She with the blackish brown eyes shows me her soft palm, with a tiny sliver of wood in it. My heart soars. I AM the one who deals with splinters. He can’t take it, but moms have to do the things that cause pain to create healing.

“Booboo! Booboo!” Not to be outdone, The LittleOne shows me a fresh shin bruise that I simply must kiss immediately.

Off to get the tweezers, my eyes fill a little. Yes, I’m tired (boy there should be a different word for HOW tired), so a little emotion is predictable.

But really, it was honest joy. Look at all my gifts…

Missing Thing

Kind of see
some
thing missing

some thing seen
some
missing thing

saw and un-
seen
missing thing

Talisman

Hell-Bent

Out
To my natural habitat
Tip toe till tears
Drop a fresh crop, agog
What seeds are lessons
What charming methods of irrigation
Swimming and swirling or
Forming lunette

The Actress

Trying to balance
The doing
And the writing
About the doing
 
Not many
Stories left
That I can
Tell myself
I love being anyone else but me
 
Maybe I need to change a dose
I pull tides of bitterness
Like an evil moon
If I chance submersion
You chance
Being exposed
To my new form
 
Demand the moon
Get the cheese
Please God
Please say
I’m like no other
 
Cracker jack idea
When we’re all alone
What’s my prize
For digging down deep
No cereal box treasure map
To happy
I’ll make something of nothing
And get back to you
 
All new plans
Point at and laugh
The old new plans
Couldn’t I exhale and be better?

Averment

The creator

is a poet

Warm April

Boats back
On the dock
Rubbing sleepy eyes

Erosion

Shortly before reading this post by Uneven Stephen, I had a very bad dream.

I tend to have dreams where I am at the ocean, usually on the beach or on a cement boardwalk overlooking the sand and the water. These dreams usually involve the ocean rising, washing to unknown high levels, eroding the beach to a steep precipice. There is falling in, there is a realization of the ocean towering over me, washing me away, washing me under the curl. Or worse, someone I love.

The recent dream was much the same. I sensed my father there. We were on the cement boardwalk and it was understood that my Meme ( french for grandmother) was sick, and had been placed at the edge of the water in a beach chair to absorb the sun. Reclined and sleeping, her snores reached me above her. Then before my eyes and in slow motion snap shots, she starts to slide into a now high, calm tide. She is slipping and snoring. I am terrified. I cannot just let her go, I have to save her. I see her face resting on the ocean chomped edge of sand while the rest of her is already devoured by the surface far more lake-like than ocean. She isn’t under yet. Between then and when I jump in, she slips down and through my fingers. I cannot find her.

It’s still so much that I need her. She died a long time ago.

Anyway…the dream has been bothering me. I’m lonely. Can it all boil down to being lonely, that I ache for that unconditional love?

Augur

You are late.

I am often late.

Not this late.

Very well. But I am here now.

But LATE.

And HERE.

Yes, here. Did you bring your satchel?

I always bring my satchel.

Including today?

What is wrong with you?

I just don’t even know why you’d ask that.

Fine then. Where should I set up today? The terrace?

Perhaps the dining room today.

The dining room? You know I work better outside.

I do. I think you know where it is.

What is going on?

Again, with such curious questions. Did you not get your money this month?

I did.

Did you get it last month too? And where your expenses paid?

You know the answer.

I do.

You must admit you are acting…out of sorts.

Must I? Watch the candlesticks there. I think that smaller table, in the corner.

Very well. The, uh, energy in here…it’s…odd.

Sit here, Ms. Milner. I think our session today is going to be quite successful.