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.

Each piece of my life
has a voice clamoring
for first action.
Some days they all
come shouting in
deafening me,
crushing me under
the weight of hurled indictments.

They are ham-fisted thuds
crashing into my face
from behind my eyes,
the band that tightens
across my brow,
the weight that
strains my back. I spin to
move away from one
only to smack into another.

I am dizzy, weary from
constantly whirling, moving aimlessly,
fruitlessly, unable to
protect me from my
actions and words unwelcome
that just    keep    coming.

Until finally,
mercifully,
I collapse.
To the ground.
It’s quiet then—
my first peace.

Breathing deeply
slowly,
it becomes clear to me:
there is only
up
from here.

© 2011 Shari Lynne Smothers

This poem is part of my #SHINEonline challenge commitment for 2 posts weekly; #3 for the 1st week.

I remember a time, tho’ long ago
when stepping on an acorn was play
that could roll me off balance.
I could stumble dizzyingly,
happily unsure of my footing
as I reveled in the freedom,
soaking in all the sensations I could hold.
Somehow wistfully appreciative
of a time I knew I could not remain in.

That time long ago saw me pounds lighter
feet shorter, burdens fewer, decades younger,
regrets unthought of as every possibility
lay at my feet. Myriad red carpets covered
the wide expanse of the golden road into my future,
all present for me to choose one or many.

I thought about that today
on my walk to a neighborhood store
as I came upon a fallen acorn.
No fear of rolling off it today
I stepped on it and felt
the acorn smash.

© 2011 Shari Lynne Smothers

‘Tis the season to be jolly.
So goes the holiday rhetoric.
Leave the melancholy we come to know
as we age, at home, behind us
as we head off to
holiday celebrations.

The memories can come.
After all, what’s a day of joy
without a thought to my missed father
or the grandmothers who
got things started before him.

Comes a time their histories
the joys they brought to the season
outweigh for at least the days’ rejoicing
the heaviness of missing them.
Discussing them, we play the funny
happy scenarios over and laugh
again at our antics and how good
we were with them.

Flying high on the euphoria of
the great feeling they left with me,
softens the landing back at reality
in the days just after the parties end.
Time to settle back into daily routines
with the memories of them and somewhere in,
the new holiday stories I make
apart from, and yet, because of them.

© 2010 Shari Lynne Smothers

It’s the question I have just now.
How long before crazy
starts to show on my face
spawned of the stress of life
un- and under-employment,
words said in poetic verse
to the universe with no one
interested to hear or read once?

Months of intermittent sleepless nights
start to betray me in my speech,
filled with disconnected thoughts and
what looks like nodding off in mid-sentence
is already my lot.

So, I just need to know when will it show
in my face and my actions
for all to look and see, possibly even
staring and laughing at me?
And one more: if this should show up on me,
will people tell me or just let me be,
looking all crazy and everything?

© 2010 Shari Lynne Smothers

Process Note: I remember a song that talked about the way you feel showing on your face. I thought about some of the faces I see and the stories that lie behind their eyes. And I wondered when it is that we become so readable to others. And another thought for future writing: what is it that transforms thoughts, feelings and experiences into the stuff that makes up our physical appearance.

Sometimes
I only hear a whisper
compelling me to
listen closer
so I can
write the words sent me.

Times when
the sun shines brightly
lighting the full breadth
of a cool spring day,
and my heart
still swells and drags
under the weight
of my burdens.

Today the words say,
As does the brightest day’s
shimmering glow
pass into night,
so should you
own your heavy time.
Respect the burden
and know
its season comes to
relatively naught
but a day.

© 2010 Shari Lynne Smothers

Relationships and occupations
death in the family
and other amputations
weddings and grocery shopping.
Life offers up bumps and twists
at every stage we travel through.
Racism, sexism,
just I-don’t-want-to-know-you.
Chest pain, stomach ache, swine flu,
and better and worse are the
land mines we negotiate trying
to keep our souls in tact.

Endings, standings,
delivering come-uppings,
births and christenings.
Finding acceptance.
Hugging a bigot or keeping your distance.
Successful surgeries, bed rest
meditation and medications
that pull us from the edge
bringing us back for more of this.

It’s all part of the journey.
To each of us our portions of
crazy and volatile with
a measure of calm mixed in.
Plain sailing then is
a matter of perception
and depends on
what gumption we bring
to each situation.

© 2010 Shari Lynne Smothers

This poem is for the napowrimo prompt #24, find a phrase Visit the post to see the details of this prompt. “Plain sailing” caught and kept my attention.

I looked at my words
The mirror showed me my fear
When did I know this?

©2009 Shari Lynne Smothers

In the light of day
the look of me is harsh
edges too hard.
Not mean, only
too well-defined
making the person
stand too much out
from surroundings
for no good reason.
No meshing edges
flow into community.

In the light of day
the look of me is solitary.

©2009 Shari Lynne Smothers

In my little life
blessed to be sure,
both joy and sorrow
have brought me to tears.

Both drain me of energy
to celebrate
and recuperate.

Both bring me to
gratitude
which replenishes me
and my
journey through life
continues.

©2009 Shari Lynne Smothers

Prompt: Write a renewable poem. This is my poem for Day 13 of the 2009 November PAD Chapbook Challenge.

Proposition:
Walk on safari
carrying camera gear
my only help
a telescoping monopod.

Trepidation:
The probability of
halting pain in my hip
seven years repaired
only not tested to
any great extent.

Pressure:
Failing to keep up
means
shortening the walk
for all eight of us
in the party.

Stake:
I won’t return soon
to Kruger National Park
from my hometown
New Orleans, Louisiana;
don’t want to miss my chance.

Outcome:
I made it through
completed the trek.
Now I face long walks
from the perspective of
I can!

©2009 Shari Lynne Smothers

Who has fault, blame
   for the state of my life
other than me,
   so I can point my finger?

Laying off the burden of
   my sorry weakened state
I’ll cuss and swear and rant
   ”That son-of-a-bitch!”

I’ll give that person
   what bitter piece of my mine
I can spare, when I’m not
   cleaning up the mess I’m in.

Of course there’ll be threats
   to tell everyone, loudly,
how much they suck
   and hung me out to dry.

“Don’t trust that fake-ass bastard!”

So, you can understand why
   I’m so frustrated and
having to hold my tongue—
   it’s because my life’s assailant
      is none other than I.

©2009 by Shari Lynne Smothers