Thursday, July 29, 2010

Locked Out

Mystic Music cushions my ears

Lying shamelessly

Forgotten tears

Abilities and finalities

Crazy senilities

Plated green iridescent armor

Fight, biting, breeding and eating

Sevin kill many to kill a few

Something I just can’t do

Let it be, what is it to me?

Locked out of my life

By circumstantial misery

Looking in the key hole

Faintest flicker of light

There is goodness there

Where darkness surrounds fear

A speck of strength is all it takes

To make it through

Monday, July 26, 2010

A Moment of Ahh

I am reading a poem written by Michael D. Robins “Flanked by Postcards, Pieces of the Wall” published in his book The Next Settlement. This book of poetry was awarded 2006 Vassar Miller Prize in Poetry Series and can be purchased on Amazon. I bought three copies, two as gifts and one for myself.

I was lucky to have my copy signed by the author because I am the author’s friend and was his wife’s Matron of Honor in their wedding. I am not sure why I mention this but I think I do because I want to make it clear that my link is through friendship and not academia. I could only wish that someday I could speak about poetry, play scrabble with Michael successfully, and have the type of education of my friend. He, to me is what I aspire to be; however, without the seventy grand it takes to get there, I have to learn in a slow, less guided and structured way. I have to learn on my own, Educating Kristen not Rita funny I even thought that.

Don’t get me wrong I would find a way to do it but my priority was forced in a different direction. My money is well spent on keeping up my independence. I can learn but I can not get out of bed on my own. I can type on the computer but I can not dress on my own. I can read and write what I like but I can not shower or use the bathroom on my own. I have muscular dystrophy and over the past fifteen years my abilities went from a hundred percent independent to about eighty percent dependent. I give myself the twenty percent because I am not dead and can still do a lot of things on my own. However, I am classified as totally and completely disabled and require a lot of funds for equipment, repairs, personal attendants, and various other costly things to get as normal of a life as someone with a functioning body.

Since I was not born wealthy, have not yet acquired tremendous wealth and have limited resources at the moment, my education consists of trying to find the right books, about fifty dollars in fines at the public library per year and focus. I am still trying to get the focus and consistency required to get on with it. I decided to take a free class through Open University, What is Poetry? In my second lesson the Poet Jackie Kay says, “The most important thing I tell them to do is to read contemporary poets in particular but just to read, read, read and read.” Okay so I am doing that part.

Why have I bothered to tell you all this because I wanted to. I hope it creates enough of a backdrop. So here it is, I am new to poetry but I just had a moment with this poem. I can only describe that as a flicker of light. I had an ahh but not an ah ha moment if you will. I am not ready for the ah ha, I have to understand it to claim that and yet I am on my third pass through and I got the ahh. That is something, isn’t it? I think it is but more importantly it makes me what to dig deeper, spelunk further and forage through until I reach the pot of gold I call the ah ha.

I did bother the author, my friend for a little clarification on one small verse but he is a busy man so I am not sure when he will get back to me. It doesn’t matter much I am thrilled with my ahh.

Sunday, July 25, 2010


another Magpie inspired post

A jump and a fort
Soft wrinkled security
Sandy at the bottom
Worn to perfection
Necessary patch
All the things it could be to me

Rain outside
Clink clink clink
Heavy lids
Good book resting purposefully on my chest
Story inspired dreams
All the things it could be to me

Reclined inclined declined
Blood flowing
Top to the bottom
Bottom to top
Rumbles rhythmic pattern

Touching loving
Dreaming cuddling
Wrapped in a cotton sari
Covers dusting the floor
The bulk puddle there
Pillows lost
All the things it could be to me

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Fire Bottom Up

A Magpie inspired post

Rocking hulk, forging through the marshes.
Clank of cold riveted iron.
Fetter, Up I want.
No longer does it belong to me.

Lift my head I make.
Straining to retain what no longer belongs to me.
And in vain I plow only to exhaust.
No longer does it belong to me.

Feelings fighting to find the pony.
The dung its only evidence.
A cave I cannot spelunk.
No longer does it belong to me.

One tear I shed just for me.
Hundreds of smiles for everyone else.
Bright lips, shiny face and rimy eyes.
Enduring penitent penitrating stares.
No longer does it belong to me.

Saturday, July 17, 2010


This week I got back from Chicago. It was my first trip in years and my first vacation in probably 12 years because travel is really hard and expensive when contending with disability and poor health.

About 9 months ago my dear friend Valerie asked me to be her Matron of Honor. I was honored to stand up with her because I believed in my heart that she was marrying her "One" and I knew that they would fight to make their marriage work. I also knew that they would overcome whatever life threw at them. I watched them do it time and again so I knew they would do whatever it took. I saw them work through hard things and face hard things without batting an eyelash. I also saw them interact and cultivate flexibility in their friendships so I knew they could do it with each other.

I read this poem today and it really does speak to the ideals necessary to keep a marriage strong. So I dedicate this poem to them and also to all the married people that work hard to keep their marriage alive and kicking. Killing a marriage dead is easy to do, it is keeping it alive that needs to be worked then celebrated. So I hope that I do not get in trouble posting this poem by Wilferd Arlan Peterson because I did not get permission to post it here but it was listed as a free poem that can be used when writing marriage vows. I would rather like to use it as a reminder of what I need to do to keep marriage alive. After 15 years of being married to the same person, I read this poem and I just want to strive to be the right partner to the man I married. And perhaps give my newly married friends a little guide to keeping it alive in the process.

The Art Of A Good Marriage

by Wilferd Arlan Peterson

Happiness in marriage is not something that just happens.
A good marriage must be created.
In marriage the little things are the big things.
It is never being too old to hold hands.
It is remembering to say "I love you" at least once a day.
It is never going to sleep angry.
It is at no time taking the other for granted;
the courtship should not end
with the honeymoon, it should continue through the years.
It is having a mutual sense of values and common objectives.
It is standing together facing the world.
It is forming a circle of love that gathers the whole family.
It is doing things for each other, not in the attitude of duty or sacrifice,
but in the spirit of joy. It is speaking words of appreciation
and demonstrating gratitude in thoughtful ways.
It is not looking for perfection in each other.
It is cultivating flexibility, patience,
understanding and a sense of humour.
It is having the capacity to forgive and forget.
It is giving each other an atmosphere in which each can grow old.
It is a common search for the good and the beautiful.
It is establishing a relationship in which the independence is equal,
dependence is mutual and the obligation is reciprocal.
It is not only marrying the right partner, it is being the right partner