Misery loves company

Artist: Mae Giroux, Oakville, Ontario
Artist: Mae Giroux, Oakville, Ontario

There once was a friend
I avoided most of my life
I’d hide, play dead and pretend…
in hopes it would withhold strife.

How silly was I dodging the inevitable!
thinking I was so darn smart
yet, was skirting the most probable.
he waits for me, I’m too close at heart,
I no longer run, now that my muse
is by my side; no worries now, I’m prepared
for all it wants to dole out, for I refuse
to hide, lay low or show I’m scared.
No sireee! I often welcome his passage,
brave for the pain and agony
as my muse will assuage
the beatings of my friend, misery.

I can write the best poetry, prose and tales
when I’m wounded on whatever ails.

So here is a toast, my dear friend, misery,
I embrace all your suffering!
for the reaping I gain,
is worth all the worry and pain,
as I walk on my path of learning
…c’est la vie…
that IS life…
the day I stop learning…I shall die,
…such is life.

© Whispering Insights, 2014/04/22

This was inspired by this passage written by Sreejit Poole who is also a blogger/writer/poet at The Seeker’s Dungeon

“I repeat, in case you missed it, that there is no greater teacher in this world than misery. It give you character and respectability if you take from it all that it has to offer. A real friend would point out all your faults, but how many true friends do we have in this world? One if we’re lucky. But misery is a friend that we can always count on. It teaches self-control and helps us to distinguish between right, wrong and necessary. It helps us to contemplate the meaning of life, and if we are unable to find that meaning, it helps us to deal with it. The best advice that I could give you, Ballard, is to not be afraid to befriend misery, because it will haunt and torment you until you do.” P. 61-62 Of Mind or Matter, Copyright © 2012 Sreejit Poole.

Dear Emma,

I have been busy with work preparing for our annual walk, begging for more sponsors, giving presentations, showing a presence, writing on our agency’s blog, sharing some brief stories for our service is non-profit and not funded at all by government or organized fundraisers like march of dimes etc.  So we have to beg a lot!

However, I have missed reading as well. In the past year, I have written and read blogs but not read many novels. I used to read one to two novels (or more) a week; now I am lucky if I can get through one every two months. I know I over indulged to escape in reading but I am going to another extreme with writing, not that I write that much but it takes me a long time to write each post…I am pretty slow.

This week I received my 3 purchases from Amazon of the same author. I am currently reading Of Mind or Matter by Sreejit Poole. I am only up to page 65 and already, I have smiled, cried and reminisced of my huge transition moving far from home…far enough to not be able to go home weekends and it is allowing me to think a lot!

I can’t help but be reminded of my first year in Toronto, how I had lost 40 pounds and could barely get by on minimum wage. But I just wanted to find any job to try and survive in a new environment. I was an assistant shipper in a huge warehouse.

I remember many days coming close to fainting as I had only enough money for a yogurt for lunch. I had stopped eating eggs or health reasons but started again that year to eat eggs, crackers and beans because it was cheap and there were lots of proteins. I don’t want to go into details of my struggles but it still took me 10 years to learn to befriend an old persistent friend. I am, after all a slow reader, so I supposed I may be a slow learning too.

Emma, I wonder if I get morose and down on Thursdays because it is my fourth day of work, and I am just tired but I noticed that this is a day I have a difficult time.  Walking home with my legs and feet loaded with lead, I finally arrived and soaked in a hot tub. It was mostly for the pain in my body especially my back and feet….oh my sore aching feet. Yes, I was up on my feet for 5 hours in uncomfortable “stylish boots” for a fund raising stint.  And then I worked on the lines for 4 hours,  with yet another particular call with wails, such painful cries from a youth. It is not the issue that I found moving but her pain and thoughts of never finding solace.  In some cultures it is quite  rare for youths to reach out and when I hear some of these youths, I embrace…no hug real hard their pain and wait until they can find peace so they can talk.  Many times that can be long bouts of wails, sobs and hiccups.  Imagine holding back all that pain as a youth!

So when I was on the bus ride home, I read…and Emma, it touched me…truly it did.  It stirred a little poem that I will post in my next post.

Okay, I was also upset about some people who are vain and wonder why that bothers me so much.  I have to search in my soul to see if it is a weakness I struggle with too…why do vain, proud, show off people bug me so much? I need to think about that.

Good night, Emma, thanks for listening. One more day to go.

© Whispering Insights 2014/04/23

 

 

Wordless Wednesday

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1000 La Gauchetiere. Terminus

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Inside main floor at Montreal Terminus, 1000 La Gauchetière, Montréal, Qc. Across this rink are ticket offices and left and right of the rink are eateries. Skating all year long. Hotel Hilton (once named Bonaventure) is next door to the terminus.
©Whispering Insights

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Arresting attitudes (Tanka)

OK Good Friday 2014
OK Good Friday 2014

Decades passed
no longer waiting,

time elapsed
one stops hoping

crimes forgiven
yet not let go…
and not forgotten
arresting such an attitude
impedes growth,
and life’s progress,
stifles into solitude
wasted time…missed
dreams and promise.

never-ending loss
of life …
true living at its worst.

(Tanka)

Searched in the distance
listened for enlightenment
the wind pushed the clouds.
hiding critical pieces
of broken unsolved puzzles.

 

© Whispering Insights, 2014/04/22

Photo Challenge #5 “Paper Train” – Burden

Tracesofthesoul:

A beautiful poem of humble reflection…much to ponder.

Originally posted on Morpethroad:

dhenypatungka

My load is huge, heavy, tedious

I’ve dragged it

Miles now

No!

A lifetime.

Bits fly off

Discarded

Redundant

I watch them dropping away

Sad old burden

Where ever I go.

Not everything is baggage

My books contain my wisdom

Volumes of recorded knowledge

Each word inscribed in learning.

An age of insights into wantonness.

Collected from my life experiences

Gathered from battles won and lost

Through defeat I have won

Through victory lost

It’s all there some pencilled in

Some indelibly so.

Words shaped to create meaning

Outlining my particular leaning.

A past sin drops off

Ten words spoken in anger

A lover of little consequence.

I check my purple patch is safe

Must be retained

My hope

My light in this darkness.

Happy to let go

Pain,

Anguish,

Written for: http://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2014/04/22/photo-challenge-5-paper-train/

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Searing pain (Prompt 52)

 Penitent Sinner of agony and remorse

I wish I could have
wish I would have
done this, done that
not said this, not said that,
Whispered rather than bellow
bellowed rather than stand sallow,
sheepish like a wretched lamb;
given a better example to them
of strength and honour
not, defense and rancour,
times of overdue transformations
unexpected alterations
finding ME
… without feeling selfish
and yet…
I still do…regret
especially for them…
unintentional burdens
they’ve endured like
fitting into binding underwear
they weren’t prepared to bear.

mostly long lost days with her
remembering times together
laughing and reminiscing
pangs strike me frequently
missing her smile and silly
anecdotes, blather
laughed so much together,
yet guilt will only fester
the core of my soul
never helping anyone
forcing me in a role
passive, futile to everyone.

Be gone! for Pete sakes,
leave me finally in peace,
learning from my mistakes
growing from my learnings
not feed on such yearnings
but evolve, be at peace
letting go, forgiveness,
my brand new lease
on life…forever exploring
of self and life, discovering.

 

© Whispering Insights, 2014/04/21

Submitted for: Mindlovemiserysmenagerie Prompt 52 – Soul scarring regret

Feeling the night (Haiga – Haiku series)

OK 2014 Posted from WordPress for Android

OK 2014 Posted from WordPress for Android

Blackness swaddles me
tranquil moments interrupt,
harried waters splash.

Emotions released
salt sodden droplets soaking
Yamaska River.

Cascading water
washes sorrows, spilling the night
in comfort and bliss.

OK 2014 Footbridge, Yamaska River
OK 2014 Footbridge, Yamaska River

© Whispering Insights, 2014/04/14

Submitted for Heeding haiku with ha to feel the night. 

Photo taken at the river in my hometown near the footbridge I took every day to walk to school.

Happy Easter Bette!

OK Easter 2014
OK Easter 2014

I am sitting here waiting for my hair to cook; You know that thing women do to hide our wise roots. Bette has been whining since I got up. She wants mommy time, I think. She had to share me with my grandson who dared to sleep in my bed and I on the couch on Friday.

OK Holy Saturday 2014
OK Holy Saturday 2014

 

And yesterday GrandPapa (my ex) came over for an Easter brunch and spent a huge chunk of the day. So Bette sat on top of her pillar (fridge) and waited…waited…came down for a little minouche now and then from grandkid but that got her a lil nervous…she was not willing to show too much favour, yet to this child. So she walked away with her head up in the air and grandkid’s shoulders and head lowered with discouragement. She just loved that game, she did. A real female, I would say, playing hard to get.

 

OK Easter 2014
OK Easter 2014

And now I took a few minutes to write something cuz I had not written anything in 24 hours!! and she is so happy to settle next to Mommy on our desk, at our laptop and she lies on her side and stretches to eternity begging me to minouche her belly just a little more. What can I say? It’s Easter! She has no chocolate bunny (although she might like a real bunny or other tinier critter to chase around), she does not get any Easter eggs, and she did trying playing soccer with the grandkid’s a bit until he selfishly took them away, popped one in his mouth leaving her only the wrapping that she did actually settle for and Mommy had to find pieces all over to put in the trash. Kids eh? Bette is likely to become a good friend of my grandkid alright…I better keep an eye on them.

© Whispering Insights 2014/04/20

I take roundabouts

Photo:  Safety Aspects of Roundabouts

This is an interesting prompt inasmuch as previous prompts from Dungeon and Mindlovemisery , I have contributed snippets of mon moi…tiny morsels here and there quite openly. In fact most people who know me, or think they do, see an outspoken, sometimes serious but often smiling, acting goofy when least expected and reserved when required and chatterbox for sure. And probably the main trait would be passionate in what I do.

I understand this prompt to show the underside, the lining, if you will,  of oneself. I struggle with this because I do not always practice what I preach. I am often embarrassed about that and rarely disclose my innermost angst or struggle of the month to colleagues or close friends because they have logical solutions which I cannot adhere to. The lining of my soul seems frail and feels it could be ripping apart. I struggle with conflict. To challenge this is like pulling the main thread that holds that lining  together.

I believe compassion evolved when I volunteered in counselling and supporting nursing moms. The point of our group was to replace extended families of long ago. I always wanted to go to university to study either teaching or social work. Life got in the way but this volunteer work crystalized my desire…I loved helping people. I felt this passion and now,  knew it was right. And so once both my children were in school, I returned to university to get my degree part-time.

The journey was filled with hope and trepidation. The programme I entered was quite unique in that we had to journal every class when we returned home; we had to do lots of group work, task groups and not just study the various theories of group dynamics but also relate to how this made us feel. I had to deal with conflict, write about it, learn from my feelings and it was not easy. I found myself often struggling with my inner demons. Needless to say many first year students dropped out smirking that they preferred a degree in Psychology instead of this touchy feely crap . I am glad I stuck it out.

I realize now in writing this, the pain and challenges in Applied Social and Human Sciences prepared me for life’s challenges but still I struggled with my personal life. I was fine facilitating groups, fine with co-workers most of the time dealing with conflict but with my personal life, people who are close to me whom I love…I still struggled. As a child we avoided conflict with our father, as a wife, I avoided confronting conflicting situations out of fear and old habits. And so, the journey continued with my limping along the way rather than fixing the crick in my knee, I just learned to walk slower and pretend everything was okay.
Although I do practice compassion, the flip side of this coin (if you will) would be conflict in that I nearly cower from adversity when aimed directly at me. It is the cancer of my soul. It eats up at me and taints my inner core…my lining that has become quite frail and ragged.

I am a Chatty Kathy Miss,
somewhat orally fixated,
but Conflict can smother this
I start to feel asphyxiated…
the powers of some tongues
that wag so liberally, and then lunge,
allowing it to overcome
leaves me mute and numb.

I preach self-care
to love oneself
at home or anywhere,
yet,
positive self-regard
often compromised
with acts of disregard
feeling stunted
caught off-guard.

and all this happens
in MY mind…
the confines of my brain
causing rumination
…such a pain.

becomes almost impossible
when one is close to heart,
I find it so unmanageable
what if they leave, depart?
fearing their alienation…
that will surely break my heart
ending up in total isolation.

passivity and idleness
may be my main response,
ill armed to argue
emotions in the way,
forgetfulness
my life long shield
I just cannot remember
details to dispute;
dissociation,
a temporary mate
but still…
I’m learning daily to relate
feelings and opinions
and yet, avoiding a debate,

and so my journey
may be delayed
sidetracked
in roundabouts
my final destination
will still be reached
just slower…
gentler
evading
rips and holes
as I nurture
the lining of my soul.

© Whispering Insights 2014/04/19

Amazon delivery

imagePosted from WordPress for Android

A UPS notice awaited my arrival last night at the front door. I knew my Amazon order had finally arrived.  Now to dip my nose in one of these three books written by Sreejit Poole who is the creator of Dungeon Prompts at The Seeker’s Dungeon.   Check out his blog and look on the left side of his site where his three publications are displayed.

© WI 2014/04/17

Holy Thursday

 

As I left the house at sundown tonight, I turned around and noticed the sky and felt it appropriate to post this here. OK2014/04/17
As I left the house at sundown tonight, I turned around and noticed the sky and felt it appropriate to post this here. OK2014/04/17

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A long weekend for most folks at the end of this Holy week.   Some are preparing for the holiest week  of the year. For Christians it is the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, for those of Jewish faith it is Passover…either way it is a solemn and holy week.

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I remember as a child loving this particular day, Holy Thursday; my sister and I were allowed to go to mass at 5p.m. and receive communion. {My mom was busy hairdressing…so many women wanted to look pretty for Easter}   I would imagine I was sitting around a low table, on cushions and eating bread and sipping juice (I was a kid…I didn’t like wine then). It was a bittersweet supper because we all knew the following day was the saddest day of the year as we were reminded of Jesus dying on the cross for our sins.

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But today is already a sad day for many all over the world. I rarely listen to the news but I would have to live in a vacuum not to have heard and as I listened and watched in shock along most people all over the world, of the tragedy in South Korea.

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No words could do justice to the pain people are going through as they wait in anguish fear and grief. . My thoughts and prayers are with the family, friends and victims of this harrowing cataclysm.

© Whispering Insights, 2014/04/17

Walking home (shadorma)

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Looking up
saw hope and promise
followed me
everywhere
the glowing moonlight of spring
revitalized me.

© WI 2014/04/19

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Submitted for : Bastet’s Shadorma Photo Prompt #4  and her lovely photo prompt just above.  I had downloaded my photos since that glorious walk home but could not find the proper words or poem to fit it yet…This prompt did it!  Thank you, Georgia!

Sweet Dolls

 

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Tom Bagshaw

Jennifer and Anne had just left. Neely was still in a festive mood. My how her girls knew how to unwind, she thought. She sighed, looked at the mess on the coffee table. Martini glasses toppled over, bottles and little bottles of what appeared to be candy…little dolly candies.

She sat down. “Ah, the hell with the mess. Tomorrow is another day.” She popped a handful of those dolls, blues, white and pinks and drowned them with the last drops of Ketel One. Neely suddenly realized she longed to be in the nursery…the nanny was asleep and she so wanted to feel the sanctuary of the nursery.

She got up and was not too steady on her feet but managed to climb the stairs leaning on the railing.

It felt so cozy in this room, the stars and clouds painted on the ceiling. Neely looked up as she lay on the spare bed admiring the stuffed animals and dolls Jennifer had brought from her trip in Korea.

Look she’s back!
They giggled at the sight
of their giant mistress.
They thought they would
have had more freedom,
but since they arrived
in their new home
they were confined to one room.

They didn’t like that at all.
They had to find a way
to communicate with Mistress Neely
they were created to play outside
run on plush lawns, swim in warm water
and dance to AKMU
Oh how they missed dancing!
Sealy, the brains of the group,
had a brilliant idea to recoup
their lost privileges.

“Okay, guys, listen up!”
The animals and figurines
gathered in a semi circle
and listened quietly.
We need to sing, chant
repeatedly so she will grant
us our liberties we merit,
They began their chant….

“The little ones are special,
must never be confined
freedom has defined
their natural splendor,
to deny such privileges
draws only bad behavior
eventually damages
them beyond repair.”

They pranced around their giant
mistress who snored like
an elephant.
some climbed getting near
settling close to each ear
whispering, chanting, softly
all night, their new tune
in hopes when she’d awaken
they’d finally be out of this room.

© Whispering Insights 2014/04/17

Submitted for:  Mindlovemiserysmenagerie Photo Challenge #4 Figments of Intertia 

Akdong Musician(AKMU) – ’200%’ Dance Practice

Dear Emma,

It’s been a long day…
walking home tonight
I felt a weight in my torso
the upper part, you know. I don’t
think I have a cold coming, I guess,
it’s just a heaviness in my chest.

I recall the softness of her voice,
she was so young…
She said he hit her and her siblings
but mommy did nothing…
She was young enough to be truthful
brutally honest, not to care yet…
she was still naïve, bold in some sorts
…ya have to love her chutzpah, alright!

I was worried for her, set up
a safety plan for the next time
…there’s always a next time…
she was so tiny…but the bravest
to speak out about this crime.

I feared for their welfare.
Later I wished they were
under protective care
these innocent children…
I was annoyed these humans,
had failed their offspring.

Even if it is a symptom of violence
even, if I know one of the parents
is too scared to show the evidence
I get it!
I am still irritated…
Emma, I can empathize with the parent
but I am still angry for the children
I once knew that child …

And I guess that’s why I feel this ambivalence
vacillating from disgust on family violence
and empathy for the victims, to compassion
for the parent who feels stuck in this situation.

no time to dwell…time to get back to work…

I feel sad
, she said, mostly at night
I listened. She sobbed…
I asked: If you could draw how that feels
what would that look like?

I was visualizing a ball
stuck in her gorge
rising to disgorge
then dropping back
settling in the upper
respiratory tract…

She said: it would look like a big hole carved
into my heart.

I paused…speechless…
I then realized I was thinking how I felt
but she described so perfectly how it looked.

From the mouths of babes, they say. Emma, I learn
each day and am humbled by how little I know and
in such pain, I find some clarity…
Namaste…

 

© Whispering Insights 2014/04/17

Snow showers (Haibun)

OK Taken on my front lawn at midnight 2014/04/16
OK Taken on my front lawn at midnight 2014/04/16

 

April 15, 2014 at 16:00 rain turns into huge wet snowflakes. Strong winds continue so instead of getting splattered in my face trying to feed the parking metre, I shall only have to contend with wet snow. I can live with that. By 22:30 it has turned into snow pellets and I forgot my gloves at home. Darn! Trying to unstick my wipers that are glued to the windshield is a bit of a challenge, heck! my car doors were stuck too! That’s okay, I think, the heat will fix my wipers in no time. Guess again, sweat pea! The wind is so strong, my coat rises up to the middle of my back…no problem, not many folks walking around an industrial street…Oh, yeah, except for that guy walking his dog that decides (the dog that is) to pee next to my car. Unstick again said wipers, squeeze them to soften the rubber and against steel with my frozen hands…stretch it so it can curve again…get in my car, try again. Nope…after 3 tries, it is not too bad.

Off I go in 2nd gear and fearing to shift into 3rd…Oh, dear there is black ice! So slip into 3rd and drive cautiously…watch out for the idiot who still thinks the road is constructed ONLY for him as he switches lanes without signaling…I just drive like an old lady prepared for anything. Hmmm, so which bridge should I take Jacques Cartier or Champlain…The latter is right next to my home but you just never know with traffic and construction on the most dangerous bridge in the city. Radio says, Watch out for black ice, accidents on the Mercier Bridge, Champlain Bridge, the tunnel and goes on to name a few other areas. I get on the Jacques Cartier and notice the HUGE sign warning of slick roads to take it real slow. Hey, no problem. For once I agree with all of you guys. I am relieved I decided to take a bridge that did not have any accidents…yet…and am pleased that most folks are driving quite cautiously. Gee, what’s up with that? I am usually the slow poke and now I am pretty much following traffic. I notice the SUV in front of me at red lights skidding each time the light turns green. I am smiling thankful for my wide tires and then it dawns on me. Of course! {palm slaps forehead} Most people removed their winter tires and I, procrastinator as I am…am one of the safest cars on the road…Well, for once it pays to be a slow poke to get things done.

It is nice to be home…safe and sound and warm as toast. What a dip Mother Nature has imposed upon us alright from 24 degrees C to minus 6 degrees C. Wow (For Americans that was from 75 F down to 21 F in 24 hours)

Can’t wait ‘til May or maybe to be safe, June.

Mother Nature had her fit today and I have a feeling for the duration of this century and onward we may as well expect the unexpected. Sometimes if we play real nice, she may please us with several days of luxurious pleasures, delight and treasures to savour. That should keep us going for a while. However in the interim, there may be a flood, a tsunami or earthquake at another part of her planet. That IS her prerogative, is it not? After all we human species have screwed up Mother Earth…not cared, respected or nurtured her home…so if she is going down, well, guess what? We are all going down with her BUT not without a fight. Shall we join her in fighting this or NOT?

Snowfalls in April

Mother nature bidding us

her proper farewell.

© Whispering Insights, 2014/04/15

Inner voice wins

Rain rain rain
can sometimes be
such a pain!

It’s to be expected silly!

Yes, but too much rain and wind makes it terribly challenging to walk to the bus, walk from the Metro. {sigh}

So what is this about you complain?
You are lucky to still have a vehicle in your lot.
So pitch in the few loonies and toonies
you need for parking and stop all that whining!

Alright already, you’re right…this time!

© WI 2014/04/15

It must be a sign

 

girl walkingShe walks alone at night
the streets of Richelieu
not a soul in sight
except felines hunting
hearing the rustle of leaves
echoes of howling dogs
in the distance,
she breathes
in warily
breathes out, sobbing
decides it is tonight
no one would miss her
for at least one day
her plan’s in place
she’ll not be  traced…
she told them she was away
a sleepover with Desirée;
reaching the damn
stops… stares a moment,
walks down to the fence
rumbling of water crashing,
mesmerized yet complacent
her tears bleeding,
makes no difference
with all the water beneath her.
She scoffs, the absurdity
of futile tears, uncertainty
extinct…
reviews her life
her sordid past, her failures,
instigated by tormentors
who caused her so much strife
Oh so many false impressions
so many humiliations,
unburdened pains
and never enough time
in this lifetime to repair
mending beyond despair…
she looks up to the sky
the moon is haunting,
hiding behind floating clouds
then slips out, taunting
“You can’t catch me”
again and again
was this a sign?
she walks up to the bridge,
no cars in sight
an austere night
was this a sign
to make it right?
that she should acquiesce,
finally surrender…
to end her struggling
within each morsel of her
soul
it’s time
oh, sweet, sweet surrender…

 

© Whispering Insights, 2014/04/15

Playing nice

Tracesofthesoul:

In support for playing nice, being creative and keeping the gloves OFF.

Originally posted on Traces of the Soul :

What is it with the numbers’ game?
why are some folks so into seeing their name
some are even name calling others!
sheesh, it really is a shame
to see adults reduce themselves
into conducts beneath their intelligence;
It’s like we’ve regressed to adolescence…
we tell our kids to behave,
not be greedy, be polite
knowing wrong from right…
and yet I am seeing more and more vanity fairs!
I try not to comment on these affairs
or from remarks, I steer far and away;
similar to what I disliked about facebook,
some folks here may have gone astray
from the more courteous, respectful way;
To each his own, is what I say
usually…
but why must one knock down another
to look better than their own brother?
I treasure my blogging community
am learning so much, says I, with humility
how to write a tad better
to articulate with…

View original 48 more words

I heard it sing…

I heard it strain
but could not see
walked out the train
Métro Bérri
and then it sang
words deep, intense
lyrics that rang
true,
my sole essence
lifting my soul
suggestively
slow and haunting
long and lingering
notes consoling
left me longing…
I slowed my pace
to savour more
…then saw the face
an artist drone
capably on
…his saxophone

© Whispering Insights 2014/04/14

Photo: thezakon.deviantart.com

The Saddle is stuck

 

Got news from my stranger,

nine months later

does this mean danger?

a brief online letter, stating

“long time, hope you are well”

okay so what is the protocol?

“Oh hey, I’m real swell.”

a month after,

on a dating site

I get an alert

“Mr X wants to meet you”

Wow, what am I supposed to do now?

What are the rules here?

I still have not responded

and don’t really wish to…

a brilliant mind, yes,

copies other people’s

words and poetry

hmmm, not so fine,

… on the phone line

I don’t get a good vibe…

the machismo comes through,

70’s style persona

Okay, you’ll say, “but it’s nerves!”

but, frankly

I really would rather

be in my own lovely

company…

with Bette of course

and Spring is here!

time to go out and walk,

write at the Old Port,

or Parc LaFontaine

perhaps even go back home…

so many venues to choose,

Eastern Townships to roam

Farnham, Cowansville,

Dunham –I must meet up

with my friend who has a breakfast

nook stashed around there

Bromont, Waterloo

so many other places too!

Sutton…high school memories

and shops to die for

a mountain to sigh for,

Knowllton, friendly, quaint

shops to spy for

Brome Lake…I love water!

Sherbrooke too…there’s family!

Yep, I have lots of places to explore

time to plan the next 4 months or more

and just be…

© Whispering Insights 2014/04/14

The footbridge

 

OK 2014
OK 2014

 

Hey wait up!  Wait for me!!

You’re going to be late again and you know what happens when you’re late!

Ah no! Philippe, attend-moi dont!!! coline de bine, arrête dont!

He he, your buddy doesn’t seem to care, eh, François. That’s okay becasue you know that I we care don’t you?  Brother Alphonse and I will take good care of you and double your weekly allowance this week, how’s that for being a supportive mentor, eh?

François jumped the sidewalk and pedalled so fast, he thought his lungs would collapse, he was breathing so hard…he caught up to Philippe just in time…

© Whispering Insights, 2014/04/13

This was  just a photo I took last night of the footbridge where I grew up in front of the church where I received 4 sacraments.  The bikers just made me think of this story.

Cigar box – (Prompt #3 Tale Weaver – Vurt)

witch

You cannot go out until you clear out the attic like you promised, Missy! Mel’s mother bellowed. She rolled her eyes, sighed as if it was her last breath and cleaning the attic would be the death of her.

“Well, it could so be the death of me!” she thought out loud. “Why with all the dust, dust mites (YUCK!), rodents…there are mice up there for sure! It will certainly get my sinuses swelled up and my asthma acting up again.” She sighed again and grabbed the duster, bucket of water and washcloth and climbed the narrow stairs that led to the attic. The door creaked loudly when she opened it and it gave her the creeps. The air was musty but not as cold as she expected. Spring was here finally and the afternoon sun coming through the front window surely helped to make chore doable.

There were boxes, suitcases dated from back to eighteen ninety something. Why her mother kept all these old relics or junk was beyond her comprehension. She just knew it caused her grief every year this time of year…every darn year! She decided to start by sorting the boxes and leave a few chests and suitcases for the end. She always enjoyed going through the old chests that belonged to her great-grandmother. Legend has it that she was a gypsy from Romania…well, how unoriginal was that, she thought. But she did wonder what the truth might be. Her grandmother never talked about her mother. In fact she wanted to burn that wooden chest in the far corner and Mel’s mother stopped her and said she would store in her attic. Mel was too curious…after cleaning and dusting for an hour, she knelt before the wooden chest and opened it. The scent that wafted from the chest was peculiar. It wasn’t putrid like most old chests. It had a sweet scent, almost tantalizing. She tried on a red and black long skirt that tied beautifully crafted leather belt. She looked in the dusty old mirror and liked the look. “This would look cool with my-8 holes and my black laced blouse.” She admired herself in the mirror for a minute and imagined she was a gypsy queen 100 years ago. She knelt down to further explore the chest. Funny, she’d never noticed these before. In a cigar box, she found 3 feathered pens. One black, one purple and one pink. Mel had started a calligraphy class this year and thought it might be cool to try writing with these pens. She brought the box back to her room when she’d finished cleaning the attic

Mel took out her special ink she used for calligraphy and picked up one of the feathered pens and started writing…she was writing words like gypsy, death, Anya (her great grandmother’s name) and then the strangest thing happened.

A woman’s voice called her name. She looked up and saw a woman in a black gown and high leather boots. “Come Melanie” she crooned in a thick Eastern European accent. Mel looked dazed and felt a bit dizzy. She followed the woman as they walked through the wall of her bedroom and entered a dark foggy forest. It was cold and the sounds in the forest were scaring her. “Where are we? Who are you?”

The woman smiled with her ruby-red painted lips. “I am Anya.” Her eyes had dark black eyeliner tracing the huge almond-shaped green eyes; her long wavy auburn hair made her eyes pop even more. She was so beautiful. Anya gave Mel a black wool shawl and told her to follow her. They arrived in the middle of the forest and there were horses not too far. Mel could hear them neighing. Anya warned her to remain quiet. At that moment three men jumped from behind the trees and dragged the women to a log cabin. Mel could not get over what was happening. “Anya,” she cried, “What is happening to us? Who are these men?”

Anya had stolen money from one of the men …lots of money. Now the men wanted the money and revenge. She could not understand the men in their language but they did sound very angry. One kept looking at her in weird way…almost like he wanted to eat her. It was not a look of lust like some men had looked at her before; she knew that look and it usually disgusted her when older men looked at her like that. But this man looked…barbaric! He pulled her by her hair and dragged her next to a large square wooden block, the kind she used to see behind the meat counter at Loblaws. Then she saw the cleaver!

“Mel will you get down here now please. Your dinner is getting cold!”

Mel raised her head from her desk and stared at the black feathered pen…

(Shadorma)

Legends inspire

teach lessons

entertain

myths of evil and gypsies,

some appear too real.

© Whispering Insights 2014/04/13

Submission for: Tale Weaver’s Prompt #3 Vurt

01_vurt_FINAL-1024x640

Total bafflement

 

Francis Picabia

Lisa knew he was not ready yet for a new love; he’d just ended one and seemed distraught, disappointed with life and well, pretty confused. He had gone back on the dating site and that’s where she saw him again. It was February now and she had a crush on him since November. She chatted a bit with him and kept her cool, trying to appear interested only as a friend. They finally met three weeks later for coffee. She waited in her car not sure if she was at the right restaurant. A dark blue SUV parked next to hers. A tall man with a turquoise windbreaker knocked on her window. She saw his smile she’d fallen for the moment she saw his photo. Lowering the window, he asked jokingly, “Quoi, tu n’entres pas pour un petit café?” (You’re not coming in for a small coffee?) She smiled and her tummy felt the butterflies bouncing around. He leaned his head in the car and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “Heart beating this fast might be dangerous to her health,” she thought, stunned.

They chatted for two hours at the restaurant. The waitress knew Lisa and it embarrassed her a bit if she might overhear their conversation. After all, it was sort of first date. For Lisa it definitely was because she was falling big for this fella! After that day they were chatting on-line, texting, Skyping nights when they would say goodnight to each other and had gone out to dinner at least 5 times. She would wake up mornings and check her phone and he’d already send her a good morning text. They would leave each other late evenings and she would get home and he would text her, “I miss your perfume already.” She was in heaven. She invited him to a special event in Montreal, a fund-raiser that she thought he might enjoy as there would be celebrities from French television there, raising money for an agency who helped those suffering from eating disorders. He did enjoy it and kept gawking at this guy and that guy most of the evening. Lisa found that amusing for she was not really into French celebrities much. She was into English and American shows.

After 3 weeks, she invited him to meet her friends. They were her best friends for over 30 years. They lived close to his place and she liked the idea of being close to them too when they got together, so she could stay over their place when the dinners ran a bit late. One thing she really liked about him was his thoughtfulness and sense of humour. He had amazing friends who also welcomed Lisa in their circle. He was very affectionate. He always had to hold her hand, place his hand on her knee or thigh and he was so much like she was. Lisa’s friend really liked him too.

One Friday, she drove down to surprise him at his shop rather than call him from her friend’s place to meet for their regular Friday night dinner. He looked genuinely pleased and he brought her into his office. Someone rang the door and he went to answer. Lisa heard a woman’s voice. After 20 minutes, Lisa was getting a bad feeling and decided to leave and go to her friend’s house leaving a note on his desk to call her later.

She never heard from him. She left messages on his cell which he never answered when she called. Finally the next day he called her on Skype. Lisa was on her break at work. They were on call but not video chat. He told her he had met his ex and was confused. Lisa asked him to get on video so they could see each other while talking. His face looked like a little boy who got his hand caught in the cookie jar. “I don’t want to lose you. I’m just confused.” Lisa felt tears running down her cheeks, “Well, let me help you with that…remove me from the equation, so you don’t have to choose anymore.” CLICK

Lisa rewound the passed 5 weeks and wondered what she could have missed…her friends were in shock. “But he was all over you all the time. He seemed so crazy about you. Wow, what a shock!”

Yep, Lisa was completely baffled too.

© Whispering Insights 2014/04/13

Written for: Prompt 51 Complete Bafflement Mindlovemiserysmenagerie

Waiting…

Amy had been waiting for an hour. She arrived early just in case the train from Toronto was ahead of schedule. No such luck, she thought. She held the letter she’d received from him in her hand. The envelope was worn at the corners and starting to change from white to greyish white. She had never been to Toronto. The furthest she’d been was Kingston when she went to Queen’s University. She walked over to the board with the 4 trains scheduled to pass through Mont Gabriel and no time change had been posted. Then monsieur Viens stepped out from the station and told her the train was delayed due to a faulty switch. It was 2 hours late. Amy looked at her watch. That meant another 45 minute wait. Well, she was already here. I may as well wait some more, she muttered.

She wondered why he wanted to come down now after all those years. He had left when she was only twelve. She had not heard from him since, not even a letter or a postcard. She thought he was dead for a while. Aunt Mabel, his sister, had hired a private investigator when Nanny died so he could get part of the insurance money but after 4 months, Aunt Mabel gave up. Too bad the investigator didn`t use his brains, thought Amy. She looked down at the return address on the envelope. He had taken his middle name rather than Edwin all these years. Pretty easy thing to figure out, you would think if you are a good investigator, she snickered.   Poor Aunt Mable got conned by a private investigator. She chuckled to herself.

Still, Aunt Mable was sad her brother could not be at the funeral. Amy didn`t care much since her father left, she had cut all ties with that side of the family. They never tried to contact her or her mom either…just let them fend for themselves. Well, they did just fine, thank you very much! Amy graduated summa cum laude. That was five years ago. She was an intake worker and soon would be supervisor at the  Département pour la Protection de la Jeunesse She worked hard to get there. She loved her job. She had been faced with difficult and emotional situations though. Many times she was forced to face the demons of her own past.

Now he was coming back, why? She heard the train whistle at the next crossing…

© Whispering Insights, 2014/04/13

Written for: Bastet’s Photo story Prompt #4 at WDBWP

Do you hurt? (shadorma)

 

Ok 2014
Ok 2014

We sat silently

you gazed off

I waited

looking for a faint glimmer

of recognition.

******

Somehow, felt your pain

did you hurt?

did you try

to find the right words to say

how much you’re hurting?

*****

Maybe it was me,

you missed me

way too much

you feel I’ve deserted you

is that it, Mother?

*****

Pardonne-moi, Maman.

© Whispering Insights, 2014/04/13

Bedtime tales

Wishful Moonlight Fantasy

I want to fantasize
write only about
impulsive
fleeting, elusive
starry-eyed
pacified
warm
NO,
hot!
sensual, erotic,
sexy damn-it!
It’s Spring!
I got the fever
sans le lover
but still
the fever makes me
think, dream,
hope, reminisce
not all tales seem
real ‘cos I spice
it up, making it
ever so nice
in my musing,
a fine bedtime tale
puts me to sleep
without fail.

© Whispering Insights 2014/04/12

Felines rule!

Photo: OK 2014
Photo: OK 2014

I think I’ll rest,
just a few minutes
that’s it…
even if I have to clean
those shades
with too many
cat hairs cascade
and vacuum soon
before allergies ruin
my sinuses…

Yep, change of plans

no biggee there,

life is filled with change

happens everywhere,

one thing that is constant

you can always count

…on change.

ah, in another life
I will have a Tinkerbell
who will sprinkle
magic dust and all will
be cleaned in a flash,
Or maybe I may get
a magic feather
that will carefully set
all the dust in motion
and then gather it
in one little section
into a soft furry.
fuzzy mole hill
and then! turn into
magic foam
where felines
will roam
recline
and lie for eons.

Hey! That could be so cool

Tinkerbell and felines rule!

© Whispering Insights, 2014/04/11

Dearest Emma,

I had a late start with another class interview this morning, on my day off but it went well. Since I’m up, I may as well get my tax papers together and drive down and on the way I can see Mom. Now let’s get those papers together…Oh, I may as well read a few comments on my blog…I love the company.

Daisies are supposed to be my vision today, listening to some music to eventually get out of the house. After searching for my tax receipts for donations and health expenses discovered I could not print them out. Have to reinstall the CD for my printer. Oh, yes, of course, silly me! I had a new hard drive installed to my laptop months ago. Search for CD, where it should be. Now why on earth would it be in the proper place. This is ME you are talking about. The least possible place is where I should check. Search high and low, start making a mess, my migraine is not distracted but pounding by now. Okay, sit and relax for a moment. Do NOT even think, Emma, that was what I had to do. Not think…well, not much.

My work is getting to me and NOT the counselling but the politics and office reorganization. Dear Lord, it saddens  me that we are going through these changes again. Why? Because I have been there long enough to know what worked and what did NOT work (Yep, I have seen it all) …but I am just a humble minion here…my opinion is not really important…my heart is in the right place and I must scramble for more energy to focus on ONLY my real purpose here…create my huge (I am getting a bit heavier) transparent bubble and just BE with my youths in need and all else will bounce off my protective shield (bubble). Time to practice what I preach to keep my sanity. Breathe in, breath out…and as Juan, a wise writer/friend/blogger often says…This too shall pass. (sigh).

Ah yes, may as well read some of these prompts…what if I get some ideas on my drive. Hey, this is fun…I’m on a roll. So Emma, I did one prompt for Dungeon Prompts,  in little time and even included a fun poem. And the other prompt for FreeWriteFridays, well, that one I just thought a moment, put my mind’s eye at my high school looking at a girl with special eyes and my muse took over. That was easy! And yet time flew by, looking for a perfect image to go with the prompt… I spend more time looking for an image sometimes.

Now let’s take another look at where my CD should not be. I look at this casing with Word Home Edition and yes, yes, I do remember putting most recent software in that box and VOILÀ!! HP Printer installer is there! {Happy dance!! well, maybe later, the movement will increase the pounding.}

And now we are 5:30pm., Emma, I am a bit hungry, a bit grumpy ‘cos my head is pounding more. So I take a look at the giant footstool that holds DVD’s and CD’s and decide to sort things out there and choose a few CD’s to play.

I have tried to visualize about those daisies…listened to Diana Krall but she didn’t help, can’t find my Holly Cole’s {darn! where the heck did I put them?!}   Yo Yo was raising my blood pressure so the pounding was increasing, Adele is making me weep and feel sorry for myself, so Damien Rice- 9 it is for now; I may skip a few and jump over to Rootless Tree to get the angst of the office out of my system…I know that refrain sure gets all my negativity out…haha…even if some words cut to my heartstrings, I just love to hear him almost whisper in my ears…especially Accidental Babies…{sigh} and the music IS soothing…piano, violin, acoustic guitar and subtle drums…so nice.
I may just rest a bit for now…You’re right, Emma, I’ll try to close my eyes and drift away with the violins of 9 Crimes…Okay, so I do weep when I listened to that last song but it was a good cry…it gets into my skin,  it is that powerful…have a listen, Emma.

© Whispering Insights, 2014/04/11

Damien Rice – Accidental Babies

Lyrics and meanings

Well I held you like a lover
Happy hands, your elbow in the appropriate place

And we ignored our others
Happy plans for that delicate look upon your face

Our bodies moved and hardened
Hurting parts of your garden
With no room for a pardon
In a place where no one knows what we have done

Do you come
Together ever with him?
And is he dark enough?
Enough to see your light?
And do you brush your teeth before you kiss?
Do you miss my smell?
And is he bold enough to take you on?
Do you feel like you belong?
And does he drive you wild?
Or just mildly free?
What about me?

Well you held me like a lover
Sweaty hands
And my foot in the appropriate place

We use cushions to cover happy glands
In the mild issue of our disgrace

Our minds pressed and guarded
While our flesh disregarded
The lack of space for the lighthearted
In the boon that beats our drum

Well I know I make you cry
And I know sometimes you wanna die
But do you really feel alive without me?
If so, be free
If not, leave him for me
Before one of us has accidental babies
For we are in love

Do you come
Together ever with him?
Is he dark enough?
Enough to see your light?
Do you brush your teeth before you kiss?
Do you miss my smell?
And is he bold enough to take you on?
Do you feel like you belong?
And does he drive you wild?
Or just mildly free?

What about me?
What about me?

Untold stories

http://www.favim.com

They called her many names: weird, witch, challenged and some I just can’t say. We were both in grade 10. Boys especially would tease her and one would even bark at her. That would really give me the creeps. We all had to wear uniforms so you couldn’t really tell who was well off and those who struggled, except for the shoes and the hair. We could always notice the shoes even if we had to wear black or dark brown loafers or laced shoes…there were marks and styles that defined and separated the haves from the have-nots. I shined my shoes every other day and my grandmother would add some polish on the weekends. We were very proud…poor with middle class values. Well, when it came to grooming.

She always had that about her, that look of otherness,
of eyes that see things much too far, and of thoughts
that wander off the edge of the world. – Joanne Harris

Her name was Amy. I loved that name. I knew only one girl in kindergarten with a name like that and she was so pretty, had beautiful clothes and the nicest smile! This Amy was new to St-Patrick’s this year as I was but I knew a few students from the previous feeder school. She didn’t seem to know anyone. Students were curious, would whisper when she passed by to get a sip of water, or just stare. I felt bad for her and yet, Amy didn’t seem to mind. She didn’t look sad. She didn’t look lost or shy. Her aquamarine eyes were bright and a light blue, yet when she looked at you, it was a bit daunting…no creepy. It was as if she could read your mind. I bumped into her once and her look startled me so much I tripped over my big feet!

Today in Latin poetry, Sister Dufferin asked the class to pair up with a “new” student to practice for the next test. I had already translated the poem we had for homework and had to compare notes with a student. I always paired up with Margie but today would be different. I chose Amy. I had never really heard her speak much. She had such a soft voice. We picked a corner (Sister Dufferin was pretty cool, allowing us to push all our desks and sit on a chair or on the floor during this class). I didn’t want the other students to overhear us for some reason, I wanted “us” to be private today. I looked at her notebook and she had the most beautiful handwriting with curved letters and swirls…all even; it looked like calligraphy it was so lovely! My scratchings were terrible in comparison and I was a bit ashamed to show her.

She took my notebook, “We’re here to compare, so I’ll read yours and you can read mine to start. Don’t worry I can read yours just fine.” She smiled and her eyes did that thing again but this time it melted my heart. I was so taken aback. I felt so warm and calm with her. We were the same age and yet she seemed years older.

We laughed a bit at our awkward translations of the poem and tried to recite in Latin with the same whimsical air that Sister Dufferin always had when she’d go off on a tangent singing Latin verses. We had about 15 minutes left before the bell would ring and our practice was complete. I asked her if she liked this school. She nodded and she asked me how I liked it.

“Yeah it’s okay, just hard when you are the new kid in Grade 10 and everyone else has a history here. A bit like you, I guess, eh.”

She studied me before talking. “Yes, but I’ve moved so often I got used to it. You, on the other hand, I noticed you changed after the Christmas holidays. How come?”

She looked at me and it was as if she could see right through me. My mind flashed images of that time during the Christmas holidays and I blushed. I had never told any friend here, not even Margie.

Amy put her hand gently on my shoulder. “Don’t worry. There are things that only “we” can see through the other person. We don’t ever have to talk about it.”

I was a bit confused, scared, embarrassed and wanted to know if she really knew. “Um, so do you ever talk about “it”?” I asked.

Her eyes turned cold. She looked right through me, “I will never talk about this EVER while I am still living with “it”. What is talking going to do?”

I gulped, looking at her, knowing she had guessed correctly. Only thing was, my hell had stopped but she was still living in it.

(haiku)

Forbidden truths hushed.

Eyes  spoke of untold stories,

you just has to look.

© Whispering Insights, 2014/04/11

Written for: FreeWriteFridays Prompt “What’s her story?”

R & B and me

“My music is the spiritual expression of what I am — my faith, my knowledge, my being…When you begin to see the possibilities of music, you desire to do something really good for people, to help humanity free itself from its hangups…I want to speak to their souls.”
― John Coltrane

When I first saw this prompt, I thought to myself, “Now which can I choose?” I thought of what some colleagues said about me over the years, their first impressions. Now keep in mind that was 14 years ago, when I was slim, and a sexy dancing machine…haha. Not really but I was out a lot with my friend (at that time)…dancing was a priority.  Even at his  place, we’d dance to sultry music or times he’d have me step on his feet and he’d carry me to the sounds.

I have to admit my boundaries stretched a bit more than those most…well my predominantly English peers. I am not sure if it is because I am half French that I am so open, touchy feely and don’t require the same space as some or if it is that I come from a very small town of less than 5,000 people. Maybe it is a mix of both. One gentleman I dated last year, whom I often refer to as my black knight, found me a tad annoying with the hugging and kissing but finally understood when we visited my mom in the nursing home…she is still always touching and kissing us Bless her for not losing such an important part of who she is and what has made me today.

So where am I going with all of this…I’m getting there….I know this is a tad long.

One counsellor said she had remarked once, “Who the heck is that Polly Anna, smiling and chatting with everyone?” She told me she couldn’t believe I was genuine being so nice with everyone until she got to know me. Phew, glad she saw I was “real”. Another colleague who has become a dear friend saw me as “always seeing the positive in people” and “a social butterfly”; well, not sure about the social butterfly part but I do like to make people feel at ease so I do send welcome emails even to colleagues who are newly hired in other cities telling them they have joined a lovely warm family who have a passion for a cause…youths/kids. I start off their email by saying they have joined a very toxic agency and it will permeate their whole core and then go on to say the dedication and devotion for kids will go viral. They usually chuckled about that and soon realize I am telling them the truth…it is a great place to work because we focus on the same passion, helping children and families.

Others seem me as a mentor and a good listener. And that part was part of me before I started working in this field. In another life {smiles} I worked for the CEO and people would come into my little office to talk about what ailed them. That’s when I knew I had to go back to school to to do what I love.

My family know me as a talker and a storyteller. My mom was the most patient mom to have to listen to my made up stories…gosh, she seemed so engrossed with every word that came out of my mouth too! I like to daydream a lot and when driving for long distances, with my children and their father, he would notice me looking with glazed eyes straight ahead and would chuckle, “So what story are you inventing?” or “What show have you changed the ending to?” I would sometimes share movies or novels and “what if’s” of the ending. But not too often…he didn’t jump in. My kids did for a while; then they grew up. I often feel like I still am a kid and don’t know what I want to be when I grow up…there are so many things I still want to experience, to see, to do. Today with my adult children, they will sometimes shake their head, smile or even laugh…lovingly at me.
My children thought I had a little of “nanny” in me but not quite. My mother was funny, silly, outrageous (oh my! the things she could say!) but if you had a heart to heart talk with her she would giggle and knew the difference with fantasy and reality. She often would tell me that I was too much of a dreamer. I was too fussy, would not settle for a partner …just anyone. She could not understand how I could be happy living alone even if I would tell her I would rather be alone if it meant I had to give up who I was…but that is also another generation’s way of thinking…women should not live alone according to my mom. And yet Grandmaman never remarried after Grandpapa died when she was only 58! Yet, we knew she loved men…she still enjoyed their hugs and kisses. (which we found totally gross!)

I never danced well like my Mother; I never could keep a tune singing like my children and their father; I could not draw or paint like my sister and my aunt and I loved all of that so much. But I could write…daydream and write home about it {grins}. As for music and dance, once I separated and started going out in my mid 40’s, I would dance my heart out…just any old way, but lose myself in the music…as you get older, you don’t really care anymore {although my children may beg to differ when they saw me at my 50th birthday party but they’ll get it when they get older.}

My self-expression is through words I suppose when you look at this past year where I finally went “public” and dared to share my words with the world. My means of release is music however and that too can influence my writing. Sometimes I can write to soft, jazzy, bluesy or classical music …but most of the time I like to have silence to truly write. I enjoy quiet, peace…soundlessness. Like when hydro goes off for a few hours…the stillness, you can almost hear your heart beat. The silence you hear in the country. I can hear my voice speak to me times like that. Most times, I like to listen to my inner voice and noise often gets in the way.

If you have ever seen the movie Charlie’s Angels with Carmen Dias, well, that gives you an idea what I looked like dancing. That’s what a friend told me who would join us every weekend at this R &B club that had live music every night. The “let loose do whatever” style is my preferred dance. Locked out of heaven was one video I would watch at least 3 or 4 times to get a good workout and pretend I was with Philip Lawrencefor his cool glasses of course {wink}

If the music is right
my body will move
like rhythm and blues
or jazzy groove
Mellow, sultry
evokes response
stimuli
oh my
with the right guy
(sigh!)
pick up the pace
feel my heart race
hips just sway
any ol’ way
strings, sax
piano or base
all transport
me
to places unknown
discreet, pacific
…reappearing,
mended
contented
life seems
light
bright
somewhat
just right.

© Whispering Insights, 2014/04/11

 Submission for: Dungeon Prompt Season 2, Wk 15 – Self-Expression

Bruno Mars – Locked Out of Heaven (Live Graham Norton Show)

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