Response to "Gravity"

I'm so excited! 

I wrote on a Psychology Today web article comment thread that was discussing grief and humor.  Read the article here.  http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/beautiful-grief/201107/twinkle-mirth-in-mourning  I shared my "Gravity" poem with author Cheryl Eckl, author of "A Beautiful Death: Facing the Future with Peace" and here is a link to my original poem and her comments:

http://braincloudmusings.blogspot.com/2011/07/gravity.html
(Background info - I lost my husband in April 2008 suddenly.  I am an engineer and new to poetry to help me process grief, but never considered myself any good at writing.  I was mentioning to her that maybe I should journal too.)

Your poem is exquisite.

"Her left hand weighs heavy with absent gold rings..."

So very powerful. I still look at my left hand or feel the absence of the gold ring I finally realized had to go...  I am convinced that the natural impetus to grieve and the natural urge to create are sister emotions that carry us through to whatever new normal eventually emerges from the process. For me, writing has been and remains my life-line.

You inspire me to become more poetic. I've needed to journal to gain more clarity. The engineers I know are very clear people already. To me, your poetry reflects a beautiful depth.

There are no "shoulds" in grief or creativity. Follow your heart in whatever mode it chooses at the moment. The key, as I have come to understand it, is to continue in the flow of expression because it is in that ongoing movement that we find healing.

Christmas morning

Java dreams wake me
Sparkly lights, mountains of gifts
Spell Christmas morning!

Corvallis

Grey skies misting down
On green mossy branches and
Kin forlorn and blue

Twisted

A hawk is perched on a twisted branch of winter’s tree
Peering into the eyes of what lies beyond
The sky crying atop surface objects, while an inner deeper
Thirst goes unacknowledged
Quenched for the moment, lying
Dormant and brooding
As a cello, singing my heart’s song

Savoir-Faire

The self-absorbed masses zipping by on bikes, on foot,
And in crowded rooms buzzing about nothing
My flesh is present; my mind hiding deep in dank catacombs
As a phantom puppeteer pulls my strings

Maneuvering in social circles as giraffe’s first steps
On knobby kneed stick legs willing them to balance
Fighting against gravity to stand tall
Urging every ounce of gumption to move forward

The underground labyrinth my safe haven,
Molasses speech dulled by the journey to the surface
My once polished persona suffers, though the soul cares not;
Only working to protect my pearl immersed within

Longing to belong, but will no longer melt myself
To fill and fit the mold, as Savoir-Faire girls do
Time passes, injunctively cave dwelling for now
A moratorium of me

Arborration

Satin, lace, and countless embraces fading as the seasons do
Mystical fog billows and envelopes, shrouding what’s light
Shadows cast, muddying everything in its path
Discernable not are the undulations and palette of her leaves
Roots fighting to sprawl wide beneath the earth
A patina encroaches upon the bark of yesterday
Yet she stands tall,
Biding her place, hoping again to be tickled by the sun

Orange striped dress

Across from an ink black river, watercolor palisades,
And hazy indigo gradient sunset,
Stands a girl in an orange striped dress
Fuzzy yellow rays reach out toward her from the horizon

Staccato drums, a zippy violin, and his gritty voice entrances
She loses herself singing every word to the melody
The candy dress swaying by the light of the sliver moon
All the while, a lone star watches over her

The sky retires to night,
Turning the crowd into a reflecting pool of the infinite twinkles from above
She finds a common neon thread that fades the loneliness
Of a sea of people upon that basaltic desert hillside

SOS

Forms complete, but never to be mailed
New contrived you can replace the old, just sign here;
Rite of passage of time.
Heritage overcame, fear of the future and
Perceived less independence;
Identity crisis denied.

Paths woven together in a perfect pattern
to be destroyed by an unconcerned beast.
Try to salvage what is left of life’s
Tapestry, with missing thread, a
Scant material to provide warmth at night.
Shiver yourself into countless dreamless slumbers.

No sense of self-less soul
Browsing memories down the mind’s corridors
Of towering stacks of scintilla,
Only accessible when provoked.
Resolving those of your former and latter characters,
To seek a new singularity.

Mahane

Friends he did not know,
I believe he'd love; I do. 
Daily, his loss grows.

Wanderlust

Traversing our planet as a futile nomad
Journeying away from familiar muddied surroundings
Soaring from the novel majesty
Noticing every detail with eye-popping exhaustion

Knowing no common words,
Communicating solely through humanness
Absorbing memories,
Pleading them to replace the hurt

Questing him, but finding me
Trying to accept the loneliness of my final sum
Crash-landing every time, days after I am home
Longing to go again

Haiku's

These are some haiku's inspired by friends:

Nicknames -

Kare bear is not cool
Hufflepuff too; whall shall
I call you? Twink? Pooh?

Hamptons -

Plaid, suspenders, hats
Wow you've got style, that suave hair,
Those twinkle eyes. Chip!

Red vs. Blue pill -

Two Pakistanis
Pals for talks, golf, eats, and dance
But blue pill, really?

Who am I? -

Relate, learn, discern
Open, yet holding back too
Who are they, am I?

Hollow

Bereft,
Of a love
Of lightness
Of the horizon
Of standing tall
Of former avocations
Of an inner tranquility
Of slight problems
Of warmth
Of a next generation
Of his counsel
Of his furrowed brow
Of his boisterous laugh
Of his embrace
Of him

Saturn

As a distant planet seems of substance and magnificent beauty,
A potential love first appears
Upon the journey closer to its surface,
Chaotic storms and swirling cloud formations overtake you

Yet, despite its scorching gases and uneasy surface
You are drawn toward his fervent massive core
Finally discovering there is neither foothold nor air to breathe
You retreat with your clement disposition intact

Gravity

The tides of thy heart are not predicted by the moon
One is caught ill-prepared and is soaked through
Memories flood in, blissfully edited with the shimmering sunlight,
Others fabricated from a scant of truth, meant to disquiet

Her left hand weighs heavy with absent gold rings
It was a promise of only his vast eternity, not hers
Tears overcome, and a muted palette swells
Upon retreat, they’ve washed away the sorrow of the moment

Summer in Kansas

Wind-chimes softly sing in the breeze
Distant birds chirp
Tree branches and leaves sway to nature's melody
The sun warms my face

I close my eyes to soak it all in
Goosebumps form as the wind in the grass tickles my skin
A sip of lemonade puckers my lips
My body sinks into the earth after a long day of play

As the train horn blows, my mind is brought back to now
I bury my toes into the cool grass and stretch
My skin craws as I swat away mosquitos and grasshoppers
Time to retreat into the over-cooled house passed the swirling smells of summer