Cold, stark, time bereft
of needs for shaping my life
according to me.

*****

Winter’s long short-fall
melts into spring, blossoming
possibilities ’round.

*****

Change not fast enough —
comes the feverish breaking
sweat to achieve now.

*****

This hunger
is outside beyond
need, we ache.

© 2012 Shari Lynne Smothers

Quiet pursuit of alone time
is continual in the crush and hurry
that is my life —
of necessity.
Covetous am I of even minuscule moments
presenting with nothing and no one
needing me.

Still, deviant to my solitary nature
an innocuous act with trivial impact
of connecting on social media
catapults me into being
now — forever —
part of something crowded,
much bigger than me
even in only my own company.

And in a not-quite-ironic way, I find I like that.

© 2012 Shari Lynne Smothers

Prompt: from 3 Word Wednesday’s words – deviant, minuscule, trivial

Coming

Touching the moment I realize
I’m aware not just awake;
morning dawns in my mind.
An alert announces in the wee
small hours.

What thought has summoned me
from my quiet slumber
is here to announce
change is on its way.

Stand fast, stand open
have faith
be encouraged
to sail through
the advancing
rushing
waters.

©2012 Shari Lynne Smothers

Time passes.
Nothing do I write.
Awaiting the unmarked
re-starting point
to vomit verses
that simply must
issue forth
no matter the cost
or company.

Today—lately—
I feel it coming on.
I’m pulling
away from
all the people things
that deluge me
ordinarily.

Making certain
I carve moments
to record;
Making certain I have
the pens and papers
to complement
my advancing machinations.

Nesting for me
is making ready
for the steady
stream of random
lines stanzas spaces
pressing forth to exit me
by way of
my willing fingers.

© 2012 Shari Lynne Smothers

I sit at my computer.
Familiar surroundings newly revisited.
I remember the bells I hear
ringing from the neighborhood church.
Chiming out
a familiar chant
my soul recalls effortlessly.
They herald a message
to any near enough to hear it,
though I take it personally.

I’m home. From wherever I’ve been,
for however long I remain,

I am welcome.

© 2011 Shari Lynne Smothers

The bells I can hear, ring at St. Peter Claver Catholic Church, in Treme, a largely African-American populated neighborhood in New Orleans, Louisiana.

It’s been a long week for me, getting adjusted to my new old city, my new digs. I’ve not written much in the way of my novel. I’ve made a few changes and settled upon a crime. Just working that out begs for minutes I can’t seem to string together.

It was a good week for learning what I will need to do and how some things will have to work. So, next week I can move forward productively, working through a text book of information compiled last week. Adding to my new Book of How as I go along.

I found some inspirations in the week I spent tooling around New Orleans, learning the new landscape, remembering my way around. All while I worked to stave off the aches and pains of moving that threatened to waylay me, seemingly permanently. I see buildings gone, new ones erected, schools closed down, slated to not return and I wonder why.

What formula are they using to say that Valena C. Jones Elementary School will not return? Quite likely, it’s of a demographic nature. And yet, however logical, ensconced in rationality and business savvy, it still stings a bit to see it gone for good after generations of family and friends passed through its halls.

My week ended with a funeral of a dear friend of the family, my parents’ friend. That ritual, familiar too. Sad definitely. But still so good to see old friends, many not seen since my dad’s funeral almost four years earlier. We had a little time to catch up before we’re apart again indefinitely.

My next weeks will be spent job searching and catching up. Family and friends I neglected excusing myself with having been away. Now’s my chance to re-connect before more go on in, as tomorrow is not promised to any of us — not them or me. And, I find I want people to know my heart before we part permanently.

I can’t say if this is prose poetry, if you’ll recognize it as such. However, this was my intent.

©2011 Shari Lynne Smothers

My eyes are closed
my mind alert
listening
for signs the sun
may have arrived
before me today.

Dammit.

Peeping out
from behind my lids
I find I won
again,
even though
I laid down my head
only just three hours ago.

© 2011 Shari Lynne Smothers

Lately, every time I
pick up a pen
songs come to mind.
First lines that invite
joy sorrow love hope from
times I only vaguely
recall, memories long faded
leaving only the
resonating emotions.

Feelings betray me
pushing up random smiles
shoving out unexpected tears
pulling up old songs;
playing the familiar tunes in my head
to keep themselves awake.

I wish they were dormant
not mingling with my present
to at least allow me to
pretend to be peaceful.

© 2011 Shari Lynne Smothers

Process notes: First, old songs brought up old feelings and faded memories. Then I wondered about what it was exactly that brought me to the old music.

Can’t account for when they
assail me. Although,
I’ve noticed a pattern of
when I declare sleep will rule
it mockingly evades me
as if to say
whatever damned mocking thing
it says.

My worst nights are those
when I’m forced to lay there
mapping ceiling bumps
in the barely moonlit room,
listening for
shifting carpet fibers,
wondering if there are any
nocturnal bugs trekking through;
hearing the birds
scratching the awning
on their way
to some secret rendezvous.

All because I have
an important thing to do shortly.

My best nights are those
where I have no appointment
to face in a few hours.
I can get up and indulge
my lack of sleep with
YouTube, writing, reading,
Lego’s
not necessarily all or in that order.
Just whatever entertains me, things
that let me say, to sleep,
whatever damned snubbing thing
I can find to say.

© 2011 Shari Lynne Smothers

All the world is
far removed from me
much as I
want to touch it.
Vicariously only
can I engage just now,
from my hovel
through my window
into cyberspace.
I see what people
want to show
of the lives they lead.
Who’s killing, loving,
having a
Chernobyl meltdown;
mentally challenged brothers
get the book
thrown at them
while great villains,
not so much.
Political strife,
economic difficulty
moral bankruptcy
foreign governments
posture to save face.

Short of everything
and still properly sated,
I return
to myself disconnected
as the muck of the world
sloughs off me
settles to the floor
where I can sift through
to find
my poetical fodder.

© 2011 Shari Lynne Smothers

Morning sun enters
softly insisting I wake;
“Nightmare’s over—breathe.”

©2011 Shari Lynne Smothers
#5 for National Poetry Month Today’s poem, a Haiku, to share in the magic of National Poetry Month. Always a silver lining, bad dreams are yet another reason to appreciate waking up. I’ll have to see about catching up before I get too far behind.

Big Tent Poetry Wordle 2.28.11

Gazing into the flame
burning brightly
it came, tangle of a
question, idea, concern, obligation.
Scuttling persistently around my mind
an ambling parade to wake my
worry muscle. The collective
adamantly populated
my head, set to defy me
in my quest for emptiness.

Slowly, in the flame
burning down
in the tangled mass of thoughts,
a familiar face emerged.
His boyish smile betrayed that
even as I sought
to withhold my audience,
he would say more in his typical
controlling, helpfully annoying style.

Quietly, in the flame
burning away
a subtle change in thought
brought a gasp from
the rambling ambling head;
cause unknown since I couldn’t see
far down as his bloodied thigh.

Then poof, he was all gone
leaving me free to meditate
in peace
by candlelight
in the moments left to me
before the flame did slip out completely.

© 2011 Shari Lynne Smothers

***********************
For the Big Tent Poetry prompt of Monday 2.28.2011. Challenge is to use one of the following starter phrases and one or all of the wordle words.
“Say more ________”
“There is also the matter of _________”
“He started by __________”
***********************

This post is part of my #SHINEonline challenge commitment for 2 posts weekly; 2 of 2 for the 8th week.

Winter exhaled fully from deep
in his belly. Shared almost the full breadth
of havoc he knew with
freezing temperatures, blinding snow
and ice slicked roads—
then witness
all the people’s and earth’s actions in response.

I move through my days in slow motion
defrosting with cold’s departure.
Sloughing off my last stuffy nose morning
as Winter makes his quick exit,
for Spring to present herself through
more temperate, accommodating weather.

Out from under my blankets
where Winter had forced me,
awake without his icy tendrils
inside my head, slowing my thoughts,
pulling me out of normal time
as audience to all his regalements,
I thaw. I begin to move easier
think faster, behave more congruously
with warmer days that now greet me.

Through Spring, Summer and Fall,
I will continue more fluidly,
flashing only the occasional cold memory of Winter
until his eminent welcome return in December.

© 2011 Shari Lynne Smothers

This post is part of my #SHINEonline challenge commitment for 2 posts weekly; 1 of 2 for the 8th week.

Check out the #SHINEonline paper.li linked at the top of my far right sidebar.

I took some time off to get into some other things. It took getting hung up on a title, (something that never stops me), to pull me away to other projects. It was fun times away. Though now I’m back with a vengeance. I have some posts to make up for—4 for 2 weeks missed. I look forward to challenging myself.

It will also be a bit of a practice in case I decide to participate in a daily poem project next month.

It’s not About Me, Is It?

This morning I went out
to get Saturday’s mail
and I saw again the brown dove,
the bird on the balcony.
Today though he perched
at the end furthest from me.

Since I have not eyes
trained for bird differences,
I had to wonder if it was
the bird on the balcony.
Or a new one sent with
the same message for me.

Either way, here we were.
And as I made my way
toward it, toward the stairs
to my mailbox, in the crisp morning air

I thought about the time of year
the beauty in the fabric of the day
how Punxsutawney Phil’s failure to see
his shadow was likely on the money.

I got my mail—another bill
and turned ‘round toward the stairs
for my short, thoughtful journey back,
all the while trying to decide
what was the bird on the balcony’s
message to me.

Or, if it was just a bird on the balcony
who had no message—no knowledge of me.

© 2011 Shari Lynne Smothers

This post is part of my #SHINEonline challenge commitment for 2 posts weekly; 2 of 2 for the 5th week.

Check out the #SHINEonline paper.li linked at the top of my far right sidebar.

last night i dreamed of lego blocks.
the pieces didn’t fit and it
confused me to see this
incongruousness in these tools
of useful distracted relaxation.

in my dream, i wondered why or how
with form factor specifications
that could happen. then i
took a closer look at the
bigger picture that is my life
and considered
it’s likely just the order of the day.

par for the course to have
an upsetting dream in otherwise
okay times, maybe a foreshadowing
of broken awkwardness on its way.
or just a quick reminder
to keep me grounded,
away from getting too happy,
too far out the way.

© 2011 Shari Lynne Smothers

This post is part of my #SHINEonline challenge commitment for 2 posts weekly; 1 of 2 for the 5th week.

Check out the #SHINEonline paper.li linked at the top of my far right sidebar.