Communication is a beautiful thing but I am so intrigued by how much miscommunication takes place when we try to communicate. At times I wish I could wave a magic wand. Not only so that I could be better understood but so that others could understand me as well. And I wonder if my unfulfilled relationships (friends, family, men, etc) throughout my life possibly fell apart because of a word misspoken or a thought left unsaid? How many people walk through life without a clue as to how their words affect others? I know I speak with many people that have shared their experiences and it really makes me wonder and appreciate the power of words.
And thus the title of this poem came to me: Magic out of words. Because I truly wish I could make magic with them. I think that title may have more volumes to it so, stay tuned...
---
I want to make magic out of words
So that my feelings are understood
Nothing left but thoughts and suppositions
I’d make it all clear if I only could
I’d talk about the hurt in my heart
That creeps back in when you walk out
As if you’ve left the door open on your way
And it remains in your place to roam about
Words that could describe
The feeling of love that you bring
The passion of your touch
The joy that makes me sing
Magic out of words to account for
The scars that have been left behind
And the ones you hide so well
That make you feel restricted and confined
I want to make magic sweet and true
So that we can get on with our lives
Live the reason we were brought together
And not the doubt that swiftly deprives
Clear up the excuses about being too close too fast
All the while letting another see our heart
Innocent acts cloaked clumsily along the way
That in unseen ways slowly drive us apart
Magic to explain how all of the actions
Roll into how we act and react every day
Words to show how others mold us
Shape, restrain and harden us like fire to clay
I would paint a picture with my words
A magic portrait that would open your eyes
And illustrate the interpretation of your silence
And give definition to your disguise
We all wear masks in this short life
And each one has a different meaning
My words would magically interpret them
Give me a true picture of how you’re leaning
The painting would be color in the middle
Black and white along the edge of time
Showing the harshness of coexistence
The worthwhile moments colored sublime
The magic that I’d make would let me know
If that feeling ever comes back to your mind
If bliss is really what guides your actions
If those thoughts are finally left behind
Because I am still afraid
That love is causing you to drown
And instead of your soul flying high
It makes you feel like you’re locked down
I want to make magic out of words
That would translate the harshness I hear
Create a new vocabulary for feelings
That would bring faith instead of fear
A magic that can describe this thing
That you cannot explain to others
Some new word that can depict it
I’d make magic out of words if I had my druthers
For the kisses so expected and missed
For the hugs so intense and freely given
For the arguments and miscommunication
For the adored and the forgiven
For the stories told in the quiet of the night
For the masking of hurt in your eyes
For the pure ecstasy that we experience
For the pain we feel to gain the prize
I want to make magic out of words
To explain the feelings with no connotation
To stop life’s misunderstandings
And cut down on the frustration
I would make a type of magic
That can be folded up and curled
To remind you that at the end of the day
It is us against the world
© 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
This Is Who I Am Vol III
Questions on my mind returning back to the same topic as a dog returns to the same tree every time he’s walked around the block. Not sure I understand the situation. A million thoughts in my head day in and day out, a million ways that this could be played. What is going on? What is it that hasn’t been said? Word association would not turn out to be good, not sure what these words strung together really mean. Not sure if it makes sense. Don’t really care anymore. Giving up on giving a damn about who will read this in the future and what they will think of it. Why should I? I’ve realized that everyone has an opinion and as much as we like to think that it happens, for the most part opinions do not change. Opinions do not fluctuate. You are held accountable for every word spoken, every action ever taken. You. Because. No. One. Wants. To. Believe. You. Because ultimately you’d just be ruining their carefully laid out plans of how thing should be. And if you change then it means that something is wrong because they never do. So whatever you say becomes engraved in steel pored over with a glaze of ignorance and a spatter of color from your rage at never being able to live that down. Whatever it was. That phrase said in a moment of passion. That action taken as your heart desperately lurched forward because of fear or elation. That thing that you forgive in others, for you requires justification.
Understand that it’s just how the world works. How people get by with their shortcomings and lives. How they can put up with their husbands and deal with their wives. No free association for you as you speak your mind, your heart, your spirit your soul. Must always watch what you say, must always know your goal. Need to have intent to your words, relation to your actions. Lest someone interpret it as philosophical dissatisfaction.
Tired of playing the game especially from people that claim they do not know the rules. They’re the master player and then you turn out to be the fool. This is who I am. Wants and needs raw and cooked. Salty, sweet, available, booked. Severe and lax all in the same day. Innocent if you glance over, devious when you glance away. Perfect hostess, friend, sister, girlfriend, daughter, scholar. Naughty, sensual, devilish, scheming, priceless to the dollar. A complex being that you can’t claim to figure out. Changing always as I grow ‘cause that’s what I’m about.
Make your opinions, give me definition, form a picture in your head. One day you’ll turn and realize I’m alive while you are dead.
© 2008
Understand that it’s just how the world works. How people get by with their shortcomings and lives. How they can put up with their husbands and deal with their wives. No free association for you as you speak your mind, your heart, your spirit your soul. Must always watch what you say, must always know your goal. Need to have intent to your words, relation to your actions. Lest someone interpret it as philosophical dissatisfaction.
Tired of playing the game especially from people that claim they do not know the rules. They’re the master player and then you turn out to be the fool. This is who I am. Wants and needs raw and cooked. Salty, sweet, available, booked. Severe and lax all in the same day. Innocent if you glance over, devious when you glance away. Perfect hostess, friend, sister, girlfriend, daughter, scholar. Naughty, sensual, devilish, scheming, priceless to the dollar. A complex being that you can’t claim to figure out. Changing always as I grow ‘cause that’s what I’m about.
Make your opinions, give me definition, form a picture in your head. One day you’ll turn and realize I’m alive while you are dead.
© 2008
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Ripped
(trying to recreate my previous blog so I'm just moving the poems from there to here, hope it's not too confusing...)
June '08
Sitting and waiting for something to be said. Patience with time. Patience has fled. Said you no longer care one way or the other if I’m angry and mad, with you or another. Said you weren’t concerned with the time in between where I’d think and ponder just where you have been. The more time that passes the bigger the crime. And I’m being punished for dropping the dime.
The clock ticks away slivers of my heart the more time I wait, the more time apart. No care to be had, in your own little world not knowing the consequence that slowly unfurled. The pain a bit sharper, the beats louder still. The knife in the wound being turned for the kill. The time passes by as more words are dissected and more questions arise from new lies detected. No worries at the moment since your secrets won’t tell. Go on with the silence while I sit here in hell.
© 2008
June '08
Sitting and waiting for something to be said. Patience with time. Patience has fled. Said you no longer care one way or the other if I’m angry and mad, with you or another. Said you weren’t concerned with the time in between where I’d think and ponder just where you have been. The more time that passes the bigger the crime. And I’m being punished for dropping the dime.
The clock ticks away slivers of my heart the more time I wait, the more time apart. No care to be had, in your own little world not knowing the consequence that slowly unfurled. The pain a bit sharper, the beats louder still. The knife in the wound being turned for the kill. The time passes by as more words are dissected and more questions arise from new lies detected. No worries at the moment since your secrets won’t tell. Go on with the silence while I sit here in hell.
© 2008
Silent Betrayal
(trying to recreate my previous blog so I'm just moving the poems from there to here, hope it's not too confusing...)
November '07
It seems as if this was inevitable though I never thought it would come. Never gave any credence to your reputation after the “getting to know you” was done. Didn’t think it would end this quietly with your silence ringing loud and true. Thought you’d be a bigger person and tell me the truth in you. Sitting here wondering if all of the feelings were a lie. If the way I made you feel really meant this wouldn’t die. Saddened by the lack of words, the inaction and the despair. Sleepless nights, drowned in sorrow while trying to come up for air. Lifted you when you were down, loved you carelessly in spite of it all. I am to blame for giving blindly, taking the leap and causing the fall. Hollow heart, empty veins, dried up tears as I reach the end. Hard to believe you broke your promise to be truthful to your friend.
© 2007
November '07
It seems as if this was inevitable though I never thought it would come. Never gave any credence to your reputation after the “getting to know you” was done. Didn’t think it would end this quietly with your silence ringing loud and true. Thought you’d be a bigger person and tell me the truth in you. Sitting here wondering if all of the feelings were a lie. If the way I made you feel really meant this wouldn’t die. Saddened by the lack of words, the inaction and the despair. Sleepless nights, drowned in sorrow while trying to come up for air. Lifted you when you were down, loved you carelessly in spite of it all. I am to blame for giving blindly, taking the leap and causing the fall. Hollow heart, empty veins, dried up tears as I reach the end. Hard to believe you broke your promise to be truthful to your friend.
© 2007
Broken
(trying to recreate my previous blog so I'm just moving the poems from there to here, hope it's not too confusing...)
November '07
It seems as if this was inevitable though I never thought it would come. Never gave any credence to your reputation after the “getting to know you” was done. Didn’t think it would end this quietly with your silence ringing loud and true. Thought you’d be a bigger person and tell me the truth in you. Sitting here wondering if all of the feelings were a lie. If the way I made you feel really meant this wouldn’t die. Saddened by the lack of words, the inaction and the despair. Sleepless nights, drowned in sorrow while trying to come up for air. Lifted you when you were down, loved you carelessly in spite of it all. I am to blame for giving blindly, taking the leap and causing the fall. Hollow heart, empty veins, dried up tears as I reach the end. Hard to believe you broke your promise to be truthful to your friend.
© 2007
November '07
It seems as if this was inevitable though I never thought it would come. Never gave any credence to your reputation after the “getting to know you” was done. Didn’t think it would end this quietly with your silence ringing loud and true. Thought you’d be a bigger person and tell me the truth in you. Sitting here wondering if all of the feelings were a lie. If the way I made you feel really meant this wouldn’t die. Saddened by the lack of words, the inaction and the despair. Sleepless nights, drowned in sorrow while trying to come up for air. Lifted you when you were down, loved you carelessly in spite of it all. I am to blame for giving blindly, taking the leap and causing the fall. Hollow heart, empty veins, dried up tears as I reach the end. Hard to believe you broke your promise to be truthful to your friend.
© 2007
Cleansing
(trying to recreate my previous blog so I'm just moving the poems from there to here, hope it's not too confusing...)
October '07
The knife lies still on my hand
No trembling no shaking no nerve
The blood smells fresh from the veins
The flesh is ready to serve
The sorrow seeps out of my body
As relief takes its place
The picture no longer in mind
The man no longer with face
The tears that stain my cheeks
No longer feel like my own
The burden is leaving forever
Not needing to act like I’m grown
The cuts are small and petite
Resembling my very own features
The number of them is impressive
Hundreds of bright little red creatures
The major cut in the chest
Will leave forever a gaping hole
The place where my heart once resided
Emptiness now its number one goal
The pretty has fallen behind
Having found nothing useful to do
My hand is steady and calm
As it cleanses itself from you
© 2007
October '07
The knife lies still on my hand
No trembling no shaking no nerve
The blood smells fresh from the veins
The flesh is ready to serve
The sorrow seeps out of my body
As relief takes its place
The picture no longer in mind
The man no longer with face
The tears that stain my cheeks
No longer feel like my own
The burden is leaving forever
Not needing to act like I’m grown
The cuts are small and petite
Resembling my very own features
The number of them is impressive
Hundreds of bright little red creatures
The major cut in the chest
Will leave forever a gaping hole
The place where my heart once resided
Emptiness now its number one goal
The pretty has fallen behind
Having found nothing useful to do
My hand is steady and calm
As it cleanses itself from you
© 2007
Flowers
(trying to recreate my previous blog so I'm just moving the poems from there to here, hope it's not too confusing...)
October '07
I waited for flowers
On the first day of spring
When I didn’t hear the words
After I thought you felt this thing
But none came
I waited for flowers
After the painful heart break
After the crying and the apology
When I thought this was at stake
But none came
I waited for flowers
As a congratulation
Hoped for a hug to go with it
Along with the infatuation
But none came
I waited for flowers
To prove to me a revelation
That things would change
That you’d renewed your dedication
But none came
The hope is now gone
Strangled forever from my eyes
Waited for things never to come
Looked for the truth in a bed of lies
I wait for flowers now
Arms folded, silent and brave
Perhaps now you will send them
To sit atop my fresh grave
© 2007
October '07
I waited for flowers
On the first day of spring
When I didn’t hear the words
After I thought you felt this thing
But none came
I waited for flowers
After the painful heart break
After the crying and the apology
When I thought this was at stake
But none came
I waited for flowers
As a congratulation
Hoped for a hug to go with it
Along with the infatuation
But none came
I waited for flowers
To prove to me a revelation
That things would change
That you’d renewed your dedication
But none came
The hope is now gone
Strangled forever from my eyes
Waited for things never to come
Looked for the truth in a bed of lies
I wait for flowers now
Arms folded, silent and brave
Perhaps now you will send them
To sit atop my fresh grave
© 2007
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
In His Arms
In his arms it's all ok
In his arms I won't be afraid
In his arms I long to be
In his arms is all I see
In his arms the world revolves
In his arms the pain dissolves
In his arms is safe and warm
In his arms I'm sheltered from harm
In his arms he holds me tight
With all his love and all his might
© 2008
In his arms I won't be afraid
In his arms I long to be
In his arms is all I see
In his arms the world revolves
In his arms the pain dissolves
In his arms is safe and warm
In his arms I'm sheltered from harm
In his arms he holds me tight
With all his love and all his might
© 2008
Good Girl Gone Bad
Understanding what’s been done
Analyzing what’s taken place
Thinking of the good I’ve done
And the lies written on their face
Good girls lose a lot in life
Always doing what seems right
Bad girls get what good girls want
Even when they put up a fight
What’s the reward of being good
Lies, betrayals and make believe
Bad girls don’t care but still they get
What the good girls are willing to give
Living for themselves and no one else
Seems like a life that’s better than this
Tired of acting the way that’s expected
When the return is hit and miss
It may be that what I’m saying
Is misunderstood and considered sad
I’m just aware that being good
Don’t pay as well as being bad
© 2008
Analyzing what’s taken place
Thinking of the good I’ve done
And the lies written on their face
Good girls lose a lot in life
Always doing what seems right
Bad girls get what good girls want
Even when they put up a fight
What’s the reward of being good
Lies, betrayals and make believe
Bad girls don’t care but still they get
What the good girls are willing to give
Living for themselves and no one else
Seems like a life that’s better than this
Tired of acting the way that’s expected
When the return is hit and miss
It may be that what I’m saying
Is misunderstood and considered sad
I’m just aware that being good
Don’t pay as well as being bad
© 2008
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
The Writer's writers
I am in the mood for poetry. But somehow not my own. I find solace in the words of others today and so I turn to this old favorite book of mine Soft Songs. Saundra Sharp is one of my favorite. I am reading a poem that has stuck with me all these years (and there are too many to count). Lonesome and Lonely. I love it because it is so true. And so I'd like to share it with you here because some poems are too big to be confined in a book.
Lonesome and Lonely Ain't the Same
by Saundray Sharp
Lonely is
walking around tryin' to look like the morning after
when there wasn't no night before
Lonesome is
having something good happen
(like hitting the number)
(or getting back a quarter from the pay phone)
and wanting to share the news
Lonely is
having no one to tell
Lonesome is
doing your ironing on Saturday night
instead of Saturday afternoon
Lonesome is
talking back to your television
Lonely is
talking back to your television when it isn't on
Lonely is
lying next to you,
wondering if that's where you should be?
Lonesome is
sleeping on one side of an empty bed
Lonely is
telling folks you can't sleep good
unless you're by yourself
Lonesome is
reading a book without seeing the words
Lonesome is
counting the days
Lonely is
trying to ignore the nights
Lonesome is
watching Lawrence Welk without realizing it
Lonesome is
when blues songs sound like love songs
Lonely is
when all blues songs sound like they were
written for and about you
Lonesome and lonely ain't the same
One's sweet, the other is pain.
Lonesome and Lonely Ain't the Same
by Saundray Sharp
Lonely is
walking around tryin' to look like the morning after
when there wasn't no night before
Lonesome is
having something good happen
(like hitting the number)
(or getting back a quarter from the pay phone)
and wanting to share the news
Lonely is
having no one to tell
Lonesome is
doing your ironing on Saturday night
instead of Saturday afternoon
Lonesome is
talking back to your television
Lonely is
talking back to your television when it isn't on
Lonely is
lying next to you,
wondering if that's where you should be?
Lonesome is
sleeping on one side of an empty bed
Lonely is
telling folks you can't sleep good
unless you're by yourself
Lonesome is
reading a book without seeing the words
Lonesome is
counting the days
Lonely is
trying to ignore the nights
Lonesome is
watching Lawrence Welk without realizing it
Lonesome is
when blues songs sound like love songs
Lonely is
when all blues songs sound like they were
written for and about you
Lonesome and lonely ain't the same
One's sweet, the other is pain.
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