To Do Chores or Not....
If it's not one chore, it's another that has to be done,
Yet all I really want to do is more art, it's much more fun,
So each day when I wake up, burdened with chores from the start,
While my muse is still trying hard to insist with new ideas for art!
Oh why is life so demanding, that it's driving me crazy,
Being forced to choose between work and art, daily.
Around and around I go, like it's a merry-go-round,
Resulting in which I just have to "cheat", I've found.
Just DO my art, and double up on my chores the next day,
Which is hard on my body, I'm in more pain than I can say.
So which is better, doing chores to care for myself physically,
Or allowing my creative art to feed my soul and free me?
If I choose art, then comes more chores, more pain, and I'm caught.
So again, I scream is life just to do chores, with art an afterthought?
There is no answer to this riddle in my life, To Do Chores or just not,
I give up, there is just no way I can balance my life's story's plot!
Hope after Heartbreak
We had no chance to find our way back to "just friends",
When our intense love affair came abruptly to an end.
This was both our faults, mine was I craved love too much,
His; his habit of refusing to talk, feelings closed, heart shut.
I couldn't pull back, stop the pain, think with a clear mind,
From this man who promised me he'd never be unkind.
My pain was too deep, his dysfunction too complete,
It felt like he simply turned off love, just pressed "delete".
After waiting my entire life to be truly loved in any way,
My feeling of utter abandonment was more than I could say,
I couldn't cope, I had given away myself on every level,
It was as though, instead of money, it was love he embezzled.
I was too bereft, insane with broken hearted grief,
Because he stole off into darkness just like a thief.
If I could have thought clearly, I'd put a halt to our affair,
Helped us come to a meeting of minds, our needs to share.
But it was a disaster because of who we are fundamentally,
We clashed, crashed and burned, over come by the immensity,
Our situation so untenable and it was all handled so very horribly,
We simply couldn't have shared our conflicting needs with any rationality.
Now I'm left with a great gapping hole in my own tender heart,
While he goes on finding new romances, seeming fine to be apart.
I'll never understand I could have been so trusting, so blind,
Vowing any new overture of love would be forever declined.
I am broken, I gave far too much away, my heart is depleted,
So in this life, at least, allowing love in will never be repeated.
Maybe in a future life, I can find one worthy of my devotion,
For now, I can't even imagine ever again feeling any emotion.
For now, I rest my head on a pillow of regret,
I honestly wish we had never even met.
I live alone now, quietly waiting for a new life, clean and clear,
Praying to be born into a loving family who will hold me tenderly near.
Then, maybe I will grow up with a well built foundation,
And be able to discover a real mature loving relation,
With a person who'll be an honest trustworthy companion,
Who will love me unconditionally, with a genuine passion.
One can dream.....
My Fantastical Dreams
I have such strange and fantastical dreams,
Always in full color with seemingly real things,
Yet disturbingly filled with rooms without walls,
Or ladders without rungs, often threatening falls.
Other consistent elements that cause me to frown,
Are high treacherous trails, with no way to get down,
Or sometimes ocean water is overtaking my home,
And I'm often surrounded by others, yet I feel alone.
Only once in a very great while, I dream I can fly,
Where I labor to take off and "swim" through the sky.
But other times, I'm in a house being over taken by the sea,
Where I am surrounded by others, yet I feel there is only me.
It is very obvious I have always felt terribly insecure,
So have studied psychology, but there's no real cure.
So I guess I will continue to have these weird and unusual dreams,
Accepting the small glints of joy when I do dream of beautiful things.
I'm very self reliant, I've always had to be,
Since being on my own ever since the age of three,
Although it's true that I had a complete family,
Each was unable to relate in a healthy way to me.
I had a Mother who treated me like I was her girlfriend,
A Father who acted competitive with his own children,
A younger brother was the apple of our mother's eye,
HE could do no wrong, so was favored and praised to the sky.
Each of us so damaged, yet ruled by our "Queen Mother",
Always seeking isolation for "safety" from one another.
Except for my Mother, our sense of self was very frail,
Completely dysfunctional, we were a cautionary tale.
Yet somehow I came out of this, finally finding my voice,
In spite of my insecurities, I could stand up for my choice,
Still it takes a monumental amount of strength from within,
While feeling like that kitten barely hanging from that limb.
Now, as I fight my advancing age that's stealing my strength,
My fears come creeping back, I'm not sure I can go the length,
So I find I am turning ever inward, looking to my soul's wealth,
Seeking to rely on that wisdom; the power of my Higher Self.
Getting Old Isn't for Sissies!
Getting old is not at all for sissies!
We have to put up with all kinds of ickies!
We must be braver than we've ever been,
In spite of what aging does inside our skin!
So hang in there; know you're not going to die,
In spite of your frustration, and the number of sighs,
Hang on by your fingernails, try not to ask "why".
Know it is not quite time yet, to say Good bye.
Be thankful for the supportive friends that you've got,
Who can offer new ideas or share a positive thought.
Commiserate together over all of our ickies!
And agree that getting old is truly not for sissies!
Nightmares, Bad Dreams
I woke, breathing hard, from such a realistic dream,
Sitting silent, I tried to understand this recurring theme.
Why am I so tortured by these nightmares so extreme?
Where I'm plagued by beings that are downright just mean?!
Every aspect of my life suddenly seems to be a threat,
It's so hard to pull out of worlds that leave me in a sweat.
Are they just representations of my increasing fears?
Fears that come from my aging, ever advancing years?
I'm so afraid of everything, life is just so overwhelming,
From all the problems present in my very own dwelling
Like a simple remark of a friend feeling like a criticism,
When all "good" in my life is suddenly just a euphemism.
From a tiny pinhole of a pipe causing flooding all over the floor,
To a perceived enemy that might come knocking on my door.
No wonder my poems don't end on an upbeat note anymore,
Everything around me feels like something horrible is in store.
I'm drowning in fears, I'm full of unshed tears......
Culminating from a life too full of harsh years.
~ More coming... when I accumulate