Of Apples and Birds

excerpt from a short story i wrote in a fiction class....

" Bradley is standing silently, gazing out over the still, glassy pond. He doesn't turn around when I call out to him. I make my way down the grassy hill to stand beside him, and he takes my hand in his. It is cool, lifeless. Suddenly everything tilts and I am pitched forward into the cold, murky water. Bradley looks down at me and starts to cry. I open my mouth to ask him why he is crying when his face bursts open and blooms into a huge red rose, blood red paint dripping off the petals and onto my face. I wipe the thick, gooey liquid from my eyes and  when I glance down at my hands they are covered in blood.....Bradley's blood. I scream and look up into his face and he is smiling down at me, lipless mouth pulled back into a monstrous grin. Apple, he says, Apple, I forgive you.....

I wake to the jab of a wasp sting and someone screaming, and I try to ask my mom to tell them to be quiet but I can't because it is me who is screaming. Tears run from my eyes, seeking shelter in the bandages wrapped around my face. I believe I am going to drown when darkness creeps in and envelopes my mind and everything goes still and black. I do not dream."

part of a new short story....

Dad was already pulling his big, black boots on when I stepped into the kitchen. "Come on, Sara," he said to me excitedly. "The snow is three inches thick and still coming down, and the moonlight is lighting the field. Let's take the sled down Old Martha!" Martha was what we called the giant sledding hill in the back field, on account of it being large and round, like my great-aunt Martha; she would die of embarrassment if she weren't already gone.

 

I didn't need much convincing. A few minutes later we walked side by side through the softly falling snow, me pulling the sled behind. Except for the hushed swish of our boots on new snow, there wasn't a sound. Moonlight spread across the open field like a beam, illuminating the night and revealing a pristine mound of whiteness. 

 

 Dad glanced down at me and smiled. "Race you to the top!" he cried and he sprinted away. "No fair!" I giggled and ran to catch up. I passed him half way up the hill, then turned and waited for him to join me at the top. He had stopped running, and I could see his limp, though he hid it well.

 

  Out of breath and coughing, he greeted me with his endless smile, then stood for a minute, quiet, staring down the hill. "Dad," I began, but he cut me short. "Well, whattaya waiting for, Sugar Plum? This hill ain't gonna wait forever!" He jumped onto the sled and beckoned me to sit. Wiping away the tears that threatened to spill, I climbed onto the seat in front of him, then leaned back and nestled into his once strong arms. "I love you, daddy," I said. "I love you, too, Sugar Plum," he replied, then we pushed off for our descent, giggling all the way.

Musings on life, love, and everything in between

I watch her sleeping, my angel, my life's delight. She cuddles in close keeping us both warm, and I am comforted. I need her perhaps more than she needs me- she does, after all, have her mother. But I am lost when she is gone, like a duckling in a lonely pond and no one to swim to.

It's bizarre, how I dreaded the day I might find out my daughter was pregnant, and I tried, in vain, to prevent that from happening. Now, I wouldn't go back to change it for one second. Not even if God himself promised to take me back to before I met my ex-boyfriend. I would endure every torture he inflicted happily if I knew she was waiting at the end of it all.

I had a long break in my writing just now.....got a phone call from a good friend who really helped me see through some of the darkness that has been clouding my vision. Maybe all I needed was a cathartic release....or some wise advice from an objective observer. Either way, it refueled my fire and my flame burns hot and high.

Being off the antidepressants is difficult. I have been taking drugs since the year 2000 to help me get through days...no...minutes. People do not realize how long and agonizing a few hours can be when you are used to feeling numb through them all. But I dredge on, determined to do this. I am weepy, sensitive, depressed. But I feel renewed since my phone conversation.

I know all the things I need to do...I have been doing this a long time. Exercise, food, sunlight, meditation, relaxation.....blah, blah, blah. Vitamins, etc. I know. I know. I have been to therapy enough to be my own therapist. I have taken two years of psychology classes.

It's a pit, this thing called depression. Add to it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and Borderline Personality Disorder brought on by childhood sexual abuse and emotional abuse and neglect.......who could stand before this demon? Who could walk through that fire unburnt....clean and unscathed? I struggle.....No...I fight, and I fight hard, daily. I understand suicidal tendencies. I see that bleak, desolate mountain before me on a regular basis. I know why cutters cut. I get it all too well.

But I am still here. I have stared into the eyes of the angel of light, and I have survived. He didn't kill me. He didn't stop me from living even after he took almost everything I had. Maybe God is refining me. Maybe I do have a higher purpose. Maybe I am important......not as important as his disciples.....but important nonetheless.

I am still here for a reason. Maybe now it's time to figure that reason out.

Darn!!

Well, a bit of disappointing news......after reading a writer's digest forum and emailing my poetry instructor, I learned that poetry published in a public blog can be considered "published" and may not be accepted by many literary agents as new work. So........from now on I won't be putting my poetry here. I can, however, post bits of my short stories and updates on my writing life. Who knows? Maybe you'll remain fascinated enough to keep reading!

Awaiting Your Return-For my granddaughter

Waterfalls of missing you, drowning orbs of blue;
Heartache spreads through hidden corners laid bare
by your absence, and I struggle to breathe,
calling your name-
seeing your face....
your sweet, smiling sunshine.
The house sighs discontentedly,
unhappily, as trickles of your laughter
echo from room to room.
Light has dimmed, become subdued
And whispers of you linger in the carpet,
on the walls.
I fall soundlessly through
the crevasse in my heart,
created by your leaving-
small hand waving goodbye,
upturned face glancing back-
one last look.

decision.....

I have some older poetry.
I am debating quitting Walden and just focusing on my writing.

Lifting pain through golden velvet fingers...
like sand, my heart sifts through the cracks
and into the cup at my feet.
You brought me here,
but never expected me to stay.
I have seen your face,
your true masque...
it hides the blackness in your soul,
the ugly trying to remain hidden.
Sooner or later the light shines through
and we are all exposed
in effervescent brilliance.

Random Poetry

Cylindrical surrounding whirl of thoughts and dreams I cannot fathom.
Big fat ugly black dog howls in delight. I question
my existence now,
and ponder over what could be yet cannot see the future as clearly as I'd like.
Fog encapsulates, suffocates, antagonizes red raw wounds.
I dream, I dream, I awaken, I sob.
Water, water everywhere, I want to feel its coolness.
Fear protrudes from orifices and my screams
all go
unheard. 

Crystallized and dry,
stalagmites in my mind,
these tears I cannot cry.
I want to feel rain
that doesn't burn.
Hollow-empty thoughts of
nothing and everything floating
weightless
through time and space.
I cannot catch my breath-
my heart aches without description,
and I open my mouth to wail
but silence deafens the air around me.

Can anybody hear me? I am so cold and all alone.
Can anybody reach me? Hold my hand just for a while....
will anybody save me from this place-
so small, so cold.
I'm not asking for a miracle, just a little human touch.
I want to feel alive when the rest of me is dust.
I want to feel humanity comfort me in an embrace;
I've got nothing left to lose,
except to leave this place.
The laughter that I'm faking
drowns out the cries within-
that little girl is dying; she knows she cannot win.
Can you spare a moment, to walk with me a mile?
Would you give your time, just to make me smile?
I want to feel warm sunshine
burn on my naked breasts,
and pebbles scratching roughly
my feet that will not rest.
I want to feel the rain when It's not mixing with my tears....
I want to feel everything, being hollow all these years.

Temptress trying,

seducing, dying-

staggers to her feet of air

and wanders through a cloud not there.

Could love be such a fickle friend

to leave her lying at death's lair?

A single rose between her fingers;

thorns stream blood and gasp

the end.

Ramblings

Feeling a little lost inside myself...not sure if I am really here. Do I dare speak the things I hide? Do I repeat them to God, who already knows and allows me to suffer along anyway? He waits, I know, for us to help ourselves, but I am fallen and have cut my wings in half. God, are you listening? Does one small soul matter all that much? I doubt, and yet I fear to doubt for fear of being wrong.

I should be happy. I am in school. I have my granddaughter. Silver razor slices form scars I will no longer be able to hide. I tremble, but I never cry. Should I? Who would hear?

Give myself over to God, I have been told. I did. I met Mike....devil with an angel's face...no going back. Test? Some test! I am supposed to trust a being who would allow that into my life?

Write, freewrite....write free....fly...birds...on a bird's wing....Jonathon Livingston Seagull.....good book. I should read it again. Lisa Bright and Dark- story of my teenage life. Know it by heart.

I have a box with my life in it. My whole life in a box. Books, poems, writings, pictures, things my kids made. Find the positive....

Oh, life, thou art funny!!!

Ophelia's Scream

Shattered mindless,
numb and dull,
floating weightless-
broken doll.
Vacant eyes stare
at the sky-
gauze film forming
tears to hide.
Lifeless body left behind,
broken limbs left
to remind.
Birds take flight in
hazy dream
carrying off Ophelia's scream.

My heart's lament

Trying to figure out how to cut and paste with a laptop....why don't these things come with instructions? I am holding back a range of emotion....release would do no good, and to vent it all for myself is selfish. So what if it makes me feel better.

Hollow, empty, overturned.......
I speak your name and wake up spurned.
I found my flame,
it burned quite hot-
I scream on fire,
this love was not
the joyful filling in my cup.
You've burned me raw-
you've torn me up.

A raven's claw sharp in my eye,
shreds flesh from bone,
making it unspeakable to cry.
I open wide to scream your name
and choke on smoke and misplaced blame.
I know one day you'll burn for this....
I'll see you there
with love's jagged red kiss.

writing on air

So my writing flows pretty smoothly.....through my head. Writing it is one thing. here you go.......a poem below this......enjoy.

Stone

The Stone

Stone.

I pick it up,

brush the dirt off it's surface,

and realize it is the shape of a heart.

My heart.

Cold, it penetrates my skin and causes me to shiver.

I am mesmerized by its flat, gray surface...

so smooth,

unlined,

not a crack or blemish,

and that surprises me.

I shrug, put it into my pocket,

and walk along.

I am aware of a heaviness weighing my pocket down,

causing it to droop.

Funny....

my heart did the same thing when I wore it.

Newbie Alert!!

I am so new to this I squeak. My genre is poetry and short stories. Obviously I am not going to be publishing a book with one poem or story in it. Or am I........? I am scared, uncertain, excited, and determined. I enrolled in Winghill Writing School to help me get a leg up. I am also taking two online writing workshops. Need to exercise those brain muscles.


I have talent...I already know that. I have been writing since I was 10 years old. I wrote for two newspapers, so I can write articles. My college essays all received 'A's.' But I am not Stephen King. That lucky, freakishly talented *******.


I am also preparing for NaNoWriMo. For those who don't know, NaNoWriMo is National Novel Writing Month-November-in which writers from all over the world commit to writing 50,000 words. The website is nanowrimo.org. You register, get a page, and submit your writing as you go, getting the word count and helpful advice, feedback, and friendship from fellow writers. It's fun, and great exercise for your writing brain. Some people don't make it to 50,000 words, which is okay. The main point is just to write...to get your creative juices flowing...to enjoy  the camaraderie of the writing community. Some actually go on to finish novels and get published. Some just do it for the fun of it. 


I write poetry and short stories, so I am not sure how I will do. Maybe it will be just the thing I need to nudge that book out of me. Could you imagine a 50,000 word poem?! Me either...lol.


I have been a procrastinator due to lack of confidence in myself, in many areas of my life. But I made a resolution this year that seems to have lit a fire under me.....I resolved not to make any resolutions I couldn't, or wouldn't, keep. Since then I have accomplished great feats! Okay, so I cleaned a few closets and enrolled in some classes. Point is, I did things I had been putting off for ages. And working on my writing is one of them. And a huge one, at that.


Maybe I won't win any awards. Maybe I won't even get one poem published. But maybe I will. And it's that maybe that has me here today. Here is a sample of one of my poems. Feel free to leave feedback....good or bad...just be gentle.


Hallucinations
Hollowed out remnants of
ancestral lies follow no path,
leading off into
layers of suspended disbelief.
Undying chords of dissonance-
clamorings of innocence-
invite chaos into welcoming arms.
Nocturnal lover bites skin and bone-
antithesis of tenderness.
Trailing through golden rivers
iridescent in glistening waves,
Orion reigns silver and white.
Necromancers cast their spells,
sealing slivers of my sanity into jars.


In case you didn't catch it, each line begins with the letters in the title, in succession. I have more poems like that- they are kind of fun and challenging. Good brain exercise! So....what do you think?  *waits impatiently in anticipation and trepidation*