January (c)

By Sonja Greene

This afternoon, the first day of a new year –
I’m sitting on that old trunk in your room, staring out the window, observing
two squirrels frolicking in the thawing snow
​and they fascinate me simply because their lives seem so simple,
unlike yours and mine
and I realize that I may be the reason, definitely not the sole reason, but perhaps a significant reason as to why we are so complicated
and I sincerely wish that we could run around, frolicking between the trees, ours boots crunching on the fresh frost as we play, giddily –
the way we used to walk and play on the occasional excursion, like at Van Cortladnt Park or
my living room on Duncan,
or maybe we could sit in front of the fireplace, sipping cognac, getting lost in the throes of casual, uncomplicated conversation.

A blue jay flew up and sat in the pine tree next to me, just outside your window, our eyes met –
and it made me think back to when I used to look at the oak tree outside my window, listening to the robins chirp their songs –
they would always draw my mind to you.

I’m still sitting on that old trunk, silently watching you hop around the room – like that blue jay
as you clean and organize your papers and candles –
I guess desire can turn even the strongest of men into helpless children,
because right now I am trying to resist the call of the memories, as they flicker like flames,
memories made right here in this room,
that keep me craving you – right now, in this moment,
​your pink socks,
​your black sweatpants,
​your ivory sweater, and
that black wrap that you have around your head –

I’m a sucker for simplicity
and I find you simply breathtaking,
it’s such an old feeling, thinly disguised as new, my heartbeat
​quickens with déjà vu –

It’s all déjà you –
because it’s funny how now we’ve moved to your living room and there is
a conversation born out of your silence, you smile as I get voted off the island –
another epiphany that fills this time of the year with an all-too-familiar despair, but
closure is like rain,
the deluge that ensues in tormenting torrents of pain
it’s catharsis for a mind and soul on the mend
teetering the line of insanity, about to bend and possibly break for the sake of an icy heart
until an unexpected hope sparked, leaving all that has been known in part invoking the Medici –
now I am truly whole –
and I don’t need you!
not in my heart, not in my head,
not in my soul, not in my bed – instead I now
see life beyond our lies –
mine about my needing you to care and
yours about your ever really being here –

I choose to use my power to perceive
as a tool to rejoice, as opposed to grieve, to see this as my beginning, not my end
there is no reason to pretend when after thirty-one years I have finally found someone that loves me wholly
accepts every facet of my personality,
​loves me jobless,
while I’m flat on my face,
does not judge me or snub her nose, then label it friendship,
someone interested in knowing me,
embraces my love and poetry, is not swayed either way about a check
and we connect on the physical, the metaphysical levels, similar enough to share eyes,
but different enough to keep it fresh and real
unlike you, she is not build up solely on sex appeal, she has a soul – and it’s so deep ~
it is so deep
and it may be true that I paid for her and my soul was the cost
but for the first time ever, in my life, I am so glad that I have lived to be your loss.

Sunset (c)

By CiCi


I averted my eyes as you glanced my way
It's not the first time
Perhaps, not the last -
At least...

Yesterday, I saw you as you walked by.
Your eyes were so intent on some distant thought.
I wonder if you noticed that the sunlight had surrendered to the rain...
I wonder if you noticed the swirling droplets caught on the wind...
I wonder if you noticed me...

Slumber of Babes (c)

By Cici


Lullaby and sweet dreams.
Here I stand watching -
each certain breath.

With the certitude of kings
you lie in deep repose.

The world be damned -
for all you care...

Outsider (c)

By CiCi


Your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes.
I saw the tear tracks which riddle your cheeks -
the faint salt traces remain, despite your efforts.

Your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes.
I saw the slight tremor in your fingers,
as you swept a strand of hair from your face.

Your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes.
I've noticed this for some time.
Your laughter rings hollow, but you've kept on laughing.
I've wondered why the change -
and wished I could be the salve, whatever your wound.

Gardenia

A Picture: As Succinct As a Poem

Most people merely point and click when taking pictures, even some who claim to be professionals. Then there are those who see the world in such a way that the most ordinary scenery is transformed in extraordinary ways before their lenses.

Take a few moments to visit the blog at http://anchinmusings.tumblr.com/ and you will begin to view your world through new eyes of wonder and amazement!

New Discovery of Something Not Exactly New

Maya Angelou is renowned for her poetry which exudes a distinct vibe that you either love or hate. I for one relish her unabashed tone and eloquent delivery so I was quite excited when I found her poem 'Phenomenal Woman'.

This poem is an excellent read for any woman who has lost her sense of self and are in need of a pick-me-up. Check it out:

Phenomenal Woman

By: Maya Angelou


Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

By- Maya Angelou

Word of the Day: Conniption

Conniption: fit of hysterical excitement or anger

I'm a bit annoyed with my blogger app because I wrote this post days ago but the app did not save it.

When I was a kid at home with my parents I remember them using some words that I swore were wrong. Grant it, I've always been a bookworm and the dictionary was my best friend but since I thought they were nuts I never bothered to look up those words. Seriously when a seven year old hears "don't have a conniption fit because you can't have candy for dinner' what else would they think. Go figures though, the 'rents were not completely off their rockers after all.

Word of the Day: Proscribe

Proscribe:

1. to denounce or condemn (a thing) as dangerous or harmful; prohibit.

2. to put outside the protection of the law; outlaw; banish or exile.


This was a word that I have often thought of incorrectly. I say thought because I was uncertain of the definition so I do not recall actually using it but would not really be surprised if I was guilty. For some reason, perhaps because 'scribe' means 'to write' or 'author', I thought proscribe meant 'to set a defined boundary'. As in 'I feel so trapped by these box you have proscribed for me'. Try as might though the word means nothing remotely close to my definition thereof. Alas, I stand corrected.

What's The Longest Word You Can You Make?

From: Prestidigitation (pres-ti-di-gi-tay-shun)

Meaning - sleight of hand,legerdemain, skilled with your hands as with a magician or even a musician

My longest was 9 letters.