Glass Emptied of Clouds

My glass was half full, but
I was proud of its contents,
excited about possibilities…

“Oh, the life I can bring to fill
my empty half,” I used to say.

Then you came,
bringing your thoughts
into my days.

“Empty your glass,” you said,
“I have a fill of wonders.”

I allowed the emptying…

…and you filled my glass
with clouds
that looked like heavenly dreams
falling like cool expectations
against the flush of my cheeks.

I closed my eyes,
and waited for wonders…
that weren’t meant to be.

Now,
with eyes open
and opened again,
I see
huge nothings
filling the space that is you.
And I grin…
as I gather the pieces
of my glass emptied of clouds,

of clouds that seeped into dirt
and were boiled clean by the sun,
in promise of better rains…

Beaming
under a cloudless sky,
I am
fixing my glass,
prettying its cracks,
naming the breaks,
proud of my work,
excited about possibilities

I will build true…

.
the wee notes…
– I wrote this poem a few years ago, after a break up. Some of my friends worried about me because I was “acting too calmed for comfort”. The poem was my way to appease their qualms. I wanted to let them know that getting out of the relationship I was in was a good thing, even a great thing. Breaking up is painful while it’s happening (endings hurt) but the future is always so good at the art of offering new possibilities to be taken.

I’m reposting it for a friend, whose relationship just ended. To her, I say, “Right now the world is all tears and screams and fury that whisper bloody fantasies that include smashing bones we used to love (or still love, even if they no longer deserve it), but this will pass. Time will help mend cracks… You will reclaim your Self.”

– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Tuesday Platform.

 

Vacant Skulls and Hollow Hearts

“Learning how not to do things is as hard as learning how to do them. Harder, maybe. There’d be a sight more frogs in this world if I didn’t know how not to turn people into them.” ~ A Hat Full of Sky, by Terry Pratchett

.
“You hate me because I despise sin,” she tells me. “Because I shan’t share my table with a man who beds another man.”

I look into the rapture burning her sight, and say, “I hate no one. But I’m disgusted by vacant skulls and hollow hearts.”

I have seen
hatred break a soul,
unlearn it

.
the wee notes…
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Play It Again Toads! (Flash 55), to Rereading My Pratchett, and to Poets United ~ Poetry Pantry 352.
– If you have a minute or three check out Rosemary Nissen-Wade’s “Thought Provokers: Some Little-Known Short Forms”, which include three of my poems with Thinner Tanka in them.

 

Sexuality Is in the Head

“You cannot divide creative juices from human juices. And as long as juicy women are equated with bad women, we will err on the side of being bad.” ~ Erica Jong

.
None can know
me, what drives me wild
in the mind,
what speaks to the swells
of my hips and breasts…
the way I do.

Hands I allow
on me are a gift,
a pleasure partnership.

Hands and fingers and thought
tracing skin, feeling muscle and bone
ruled by said skin’s own brain
need no partner for joy—
gifts are good, entitlements are better.

Sexiness begins in your head—
touch your mind deeply,
love your body often.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” sexuality
is in my head (and in yours
if you want).
To celebrate it,
take your body and soul
and make yourself yours.

.
the (not so) wee notes…
– Since Beltane—a witchy holiday that brings sexuality to my mind—was in, um… my mind, I asked the members of a private Crohn’s disease forum I belong to about their sex life. Many answered that their sex life was just fine, thank you very much, and can we talk about our ileums and rectums now? Others said that the illness has affected their sex life, but they have adjusted accordingly. The most prevalent answer was a variation of, “I’m single”. So, I added, “What about sex with yourself?” Some people (all right, a whole lot of people) left the session without typing another word.

Those of us who stayed on the forum spent some time discussing sexuality, morality, and the relationship between body and mind when it comes to physical pleasure. It was an enlightening conversation. I was puzzled by the number of mature adults who confessed to have never masturbated—not because of religious taboo, but because they are married or because the idea of touching their own bodies makes them feel dirty. I left the forum hoping for minds freed of nonsense that pushes people to believe that physical self-love is filthy behavior or something to be ashamed of.

Keeping that (and other juicy wonders) in mind, this Beltane, or May Day, or on this 1st Monday of the 5th month of the calendar year, I wish you lots and lots and lots of physical love (if you want it), especially from you to you. Be human, enjoy your Self.

– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Tuesday Platform.

The blackout that fed the poem…

…and a flower that seems to be rather proud of her sexuality
(yep, the Thunbergia mysorensis is most definitely a girl)