True Story

I once was a little boy
So brave with a touch of coy
I was an Indian and a cowboy
I once fought at the gates of Troy

I once went to the moon as an Astronaut
Who traveled to space for naught
For my adventure had no forethought
‘Twas Mars is what they sought

I once was an Olympic gymnast
I was the worlds best and biggest
But I soon caved and lost interest
and became a mom and crafted on Pinterest

I once had a pet giraffe
who loved to tell jokes and laugh
but died of a horrible case of staph
“he was a great friend” was his epitaph

I once lived in the jungle of congo
In the top floor of a high rise condo
Where the tribe taught me to play the bongo
My best friend while there was a Pongo

I know you think i’m long in the tooth
to be telling such tales of my unlived youth
and my parents tell me it’s very uncouth
to tell stories without a grain of truth.

true story

 

 

 

The Day Dreamer

 

I was listening intently to her speak, I swear I was.  Her subject was something about the ancient world of Greece, I am pretty sure of it.  She was pacing the floor, occasionally writing something down for us who are visual, and speaking long drawn out sentences for those of us who don’t need our eyes to hear.

Her heals clicked on the laminate tiles, and her toe scuffed the floor when she set off in a new direction.  With all of my intent I followed her with my eyes.  For all anyone knew, I was studious and aware, but what only I knew, was my eyes did not see her standing in that room any longer.  I was present, only in body, but the sound of her clicking heals and the hum of her mundane subject sent my mind into an emergent need to be elsewhere.

I heard the invisible beat powering up inside the room, getting louder and louder, the bass so strong the windows vibrated in their seals.  The screechy sound of a violin type instrument starts playing rapidly in the air.  The bland yellow florescent overhead burst, creating a kaleidoscope of colors on the walls and everyone’s clothing.  STOMP…skip skip …STOMP…skip skip…STOMP… the rhythm oozed off of my feet and infected everyone in the room… it rapped off of the desks, and pounded on the walls… even the high heeled “clicker” found herself marching unknowingly to the powerful cadence.

I rose to the soles of my tennis shoes, with my arms swaying left then right in unison…STOMP..skip skip….STOMP…skip skip… my body moved in time with the music… I  began to gather all hands around the room celebrating in the deliverance from reality while we encircled the chairs and desks.  Twirl….dip….twirl….dip………………

…………….as my eyes come back into focus, the monotonous droning of the woman in front of the room started to bleed back into my brain.  The music faded into the back of my mind where it started, all of the other bodies in the room are staring blankly ahead..too bad they were not there to experience the historic event that just happened in the room around them,  the ancient celebratory dance of the Greeks.

I believe that sometimes we learn more from our dreams than we do from reality.

history-of-Greek-dancing

 

 

The Morning Song

my hill

Home Sweet Home

The chants coming from the trees
So many songs at once, it’s maddening

The call from the rooster in the distant mist
I’m awake, thanks for asking

The swishing greeting from the trees
Glad to see you, good morning

The far away hum of cars on the highway
It’ early, I wonder where they’re traveling

The morning is alive with amazing sounds
So loud, it’s almost deafening.

Daily Prompt – Sing

 

The Brick Road

Daily Post  – Brick

 

The Brick Road

Multi-colored puzzle pieces

Stretching as far as anyone’s memory

Packed down from decades of travel

The “clop clop” sound like wagon wheels in modern day

A symbol of strength through ages of wear

The hat shaped house sits above the curb

A child sits on the porch unaware of the historical creation below

One day when the road is no more

She will understand its significance.

I am Here

This is my very personal, raw and painful experience with Bi-Polar Depression. These words have been read by very few. I truly hope none of you can relate.
(Thank goodness for medication, I do not feel this way anymore!) 

It’s the dark side of today’s daily post – Pensive.

I AM HERE

Standing still, a blur of motion surrounds me

Screaming in my head, muted by my thoughts

Watching but not seeing, blinded by my own hand

Smiling with my mouth, eyes fixed in a stare

Happiness lies on my skin, laughter settles in my throat

Light fills the skies; still it rains down my face

Loved and misunderstood, cherish is lost on me

Simplicity is complex, everything is questionable, WHY?

Living behind blinds, only slivers of reality getting through

Sleep…… long…. Swallowing…… sleep……….

Rage breaks my teeth and scars my face and it feels good

Other’s tears bring more tears brings more sad brings more rage

Sifting through the rubble, mending, bending, repairing broken pieces

Little bodies around me, mouths moving, smiling faces, saddened hearts

Hear me! HEAR ME! I AM SPEAKING…. HEAR ME DAMN IT!

Why is no one listening? I speak into silence.

Back in my world, standing still, a blur of motion surrounds me.

Screaming in my head.

Repeat.

Bipolar Depression

South of Alaska

Daily Topic – South

alaska

Everything is South of Alaska
It’s the top of the world they say
I would have to agree, for you see
I lived there once upon a day

Everyone is South of the Circle
You know the one that marks the spot
The pole in the ice, where you hope that you’re nice
The place that never gets hot

Everywhere is South of the Northern sun
The one that shines bright, even at night
The one that hides, when the snow flies
The one that gives life a spectacular site

Every star is South of the Northern light
The one that guides the shepherd’s way
The one that leads the sky at night
The star that shines even at day

Everything is South of Alaska
The “lower 48” their called
It takes all the states to raise the map
So the great North can never fall.

Sumnday

Sumnday is my favorite day of the week.  It’s the day I do nothing.  I sit on my porch swing and watch the world stand still.  I listen to the birds chirping, and the breeze blow and feel the perfect 75 degree temperate on my skin. Today my flowers are blooming in perfect unison with a brilliant fragrance that fills the fresh air and my grass is cut to perfection like a carpet under my feet. My house is sparkling clean with the no cobwebs and the dust bunny’s have packed their bags and gone willingly to live with someone else. My darling children are amazing little angels having completed all of their chores the day before without asking allowing them to enjoy their Sumnday as well.

This is the day that lies peacefully between Sunday and Monday.  It’s not on the calendar because if it were there would inevitably be something penciled in, scheduled or consuming to do. This is the day that lies in secret, that everyone knows about but no one speaks of.  It’s almost as if it doesn’t exist at all.

So when Sumnday comes around, don’t forget to slow down, forget your schedule and enjoy your perfect day. Because, you know Monday will surely come and the world will turn again and chaos will ensue…but for today…just today…life is perfect.

My-Perfect-Day

Sumnday – Enjoy it!