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| Once Again I say, "MERRY CHRISTMAS!" © 2015 Tiffany Monique |
With words, song & prayer,
Tiffany V
Tiffany V
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| © Straughn Films 2011 |
Hi I'm Tiffany Vakilian and this is Transformative Language Arts in Practice. I am enthralled by TLA and the way it affects my life. I write, I sing, I praise, I create, etc. I am an artist and a womanist, well read and a little nutty because of it. I support artists on their journey to and celebration of wholeness-- be it mental, physical, social, financial or - most importantly - spiritual. These are my findings as I search for truth and freedom via word.
Showing posts with label Children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Children. Show all posts
Saturday, December 19, 2015
Six more days...
Hey there! Here's a Saturday Post!
Saturday, October 31, 2015
One the Eve of our First Anniversary
Happy Saturday to you! Here's your Saturday Post!
To my other, in honor of his significance
She carries the moon in her womb
And the words in her wrist
And the skin of her mothers on her elbows and knees
She has her dream
Come true
And deferred
And he loves her
In the clouds
And on the ground
And under the ground
She carries the song in her heart
Which is still healing
She carries the sass in her hips
Which are still in pain
She considers her star shining
And fallen
And he loves her
In the sky
And in the resting mist
And in the bog
They don't understand the love
And they understand it all too well
They don't get to dance that way
Not all of them
But we love
For love is stronger
Than the burning heat of the sun
And the reflected light of the moon
And to the place of death
She carries the moon
And he walks with her
And He carries them both sometimes
With blood and gore and tears
With or without footprint
For sometimes
They fly together
And they stand still together
And they rest together
With words, song and prayer
TiMo V
To my other, in honor of his significance
She carries the moon in her womb
And the words in her wrist
And the skin of her mothers on her elbows and knees
She has her dream
Come true
And deferred
And he loves her
In the clouds
And on the ground
And under the ground
She carries the song in her heart
Which is still healing
She carries the sass in her hips
Which are still in pain
She considers her star shining
And fallen
And he loves her
In the sky
And in the resting mist
And in the bog
They don't understand the love
And they understand it all too well
They don't get to dance that way
Not all of them
But we love
For love is stronger
Than the burning heat of the sun
And the reflected light of the moon
And to the place of death
She carries the moon
And he walks with her
And He carries them both sometimes
With blood and gore and tears
With or without footprint
For sometimes
They fly together
And they stand still together
And they rest together
With words, song and prayer
TiMo V
Saturday, September 12, 2015
Dealing with 2015
Good day to you and yours! Here is a Saturday Post!
I have been dreaming poignant dreams of late. Nothing that wakes me, begging to be shared. Mainly I believe I am processing this year.
I am ready for 2015 to be done; have been since February. But I have to mark the good things that are happening, and leave room for more good things in the remaining days.
Change is good, and some change is healthy, even when it hurts - like surgery.
So many people have passed this year (in and near my circle), at times I just don't want to look around the corner. But then I remember that none of us get out of this alive, and like it or not, we have legacies we leave that only we can affect in our time here.
I have friends who blow the most exquisite smoke up my derriere. To some of them, this is a compliment. To others it is a scathing rebuke. I have done both kinds of windbagging and sycophanting. One way soothes, while the other enables. I'm getting in the habit of economizing my talking in order to cut both down. At least that's what I see in dreams - I am shifting.
Lately my dreams have left me in the feeling of school. Perhaps it is the season? I'm in a learning space. Standing back, watching, answering the odd question, working...
In my dreams and waking I'm learning to peacefully cohabitate with 2015. Maybe we will part friends. At this point, it's awkward at parties.
I'm working on changing that. I can only do my best. What about you?
With words, song & prayer
TiMo aka V
I have been dreaming poignant dreams of late. Nothing that wakes me, begging to be shared. Mainly I believe I am processing this year.
I am ready for 2015 to be done; have been since February. But I have to mark the good things that are happening, and leave room for more good things in the remaining days.
Change is good, and some change is healthy, even when it hurts - like surgery.
So many people have passed this year (in and near my circle), at times I just don't want to look around the corner. But then I remember that none of us get out of this alive, and like it or not, we have legacies we leave that only we can affect in our time here.
I have friends who blow the most exquisite smoke up my derriere. To some of them, this is a compliment. To others it is a scathing rebuke. I have done both kinds of windbagging and sycophanting. One way soothes, while the other enables. I'm getting in the habit of economizing my talking in order to cut both down. At least that's what I see in dreams - I am shifting.
Lately my dreams have left me in the feeling of school. Perhaps it is the season? I'm in a learning space. Standing back, watching, answering the odd question, working...
In my dreams and waking I'm learning to peacefully cohabitate with 2015. Maybe we will part friends. At this point, it's awkward at parties.
I'm working on changing that. I can only do my best. What about you?
With words, song & prayer
TiMo aka V
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© 2015 Tiffany Vakilian
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Monday, July 20, 2015
Borrowed Children
I am thankful for my borrowed children
As I am thankful for this borrowed time
We no longer stay here for centuries
And none of us gets out alive
We are here
Today
And I am grateful
With words, song & prayer,
TiMo
As I am thankful for this borrowed time
We no longer stay here for centuries
And none of us gets out alive
We are here
Today
And I am grateful
With words, song & prayer,
TiMo
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| Onward Looking
© Tiffany Monique February 2014
|
Saturday, February 21, 2015
Post-crash Burning
It's been a while, but here is a Saturday Post:
Can't
Or
Shouldn't
Keep or share this chapter
Ashes can draw the fiery wings
Dampened
Or
More perhaps
Bread with faulty yeast
Supposed to be rising
But it isn't as fast as it "should" be
Release
Or
Forgive the self
For things outside of one's control
It is rising slowly
The trajectory- now so gloriously weighted
Ambition
Or
Someone's expectation
My own perhaps, set too high
She's supposed to try to fly again
And he has to let himself
Seed
Or
Unexpected harvest
Didn't expect this garden to grow
It's ok if you tend my ground
As I grapple with my new flight plan
With words, song & prayer,
TiMo
www.pmeqme.blogspot.com
Can't
Or
Shouldn't
Keep or share this chapter
Ashes can draw the fiery wings
Dampened
Or
More perhaps
Bread with faulty yeast
Supposed to be rising
But it isn't as fast as it "should" be
Release
Or
Forgive the self
For things outside of one's control
It is rising slowly
The trajectory- now so gloriously weighted
Ambition
Or
Someone's expectation
My own perhaps, set too high
She's supposed to try to fly again
And he has to let himself
Seed
Or
Unexpected harvest
Didn't expect this garden to grow
It's ok if you tend my ground
As I grapple with my new flight plan
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
It is a strange time in my life right now. I've seen more love and true colors around me than I've noticed previously (to my discredit). My senses have somehow become tender to what's around me in ways I'm not exactly sure of quite yet. It has galvanized me to write. I don't like what is coming out and am hesitant to share. I don't think its "good". I've always presented my writings, even my most personal ones. I've never written for noone before. Now I wonder, if I remove that filter and write, what will come out?
I'm scared to go there. And I can't wait to.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~
TiMo
www.pmeqme.blogspot.com
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| Onward Looking
© Tiffany Monique February 2014
|
Saturday, July 26, 2014
The House, The House, The House
Hello to you! Here's your Saturday Post:
I have learned that I can not change a single person.
I can change my self, and then my home, and then my social environment.
A house, in a house, a part of a house,
and as the hierarchy is strengthened within me,
I thank God for the peace it has bought me.
House 1 is me, my spirit, soul and body. It is my first and deepest root to God and to humanity.
House 2 is my family, by blood or adoption. These people should receive the best of my time and attention from the best place just outside of myself.
House 3 is my community, my fellow man. It is my duty to bring whatever joy I can to these people, by involvement or absence.
I have a temple
My family is a temple
Within the kingdom known as "world"
But first my temple
And then my family
Before the world to show the world
The House, The House, The House
Dedicated to Brother Mike and Church in Ramona
I have learned that I can not give what I do not have.
I have learned that I can not change a single person.
I can change my self, and then my home, and then my social environment.
A house, in a house, a part of a house,
and as the hierarchy is strengthened within me,
I thank God for the peace it has bought me.
House 1 is me, my spirit, soul and body. It is my first and deepest root to God and to humanity.
House 2 is my family, by blood or adoption. These people should receive the best of my time and attention from the best place just outside of myself.
House 3 is my community, my fellow man. It is my duty to bring whatever joy I can to these people, by involvement or absence.
Inside of me
Inside my house
A part of my kingdom
I am a person
Inside a group
A part of a people
My family is a temple
Within the kingdom known as "world"
But first my temple
And then my family
Before the world to show the world
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| DT Fountain, Ramona CA © Tiffany Monique, July 2014 |
With words, song and prayer,
TiMo
Here's where you can read me
 |
A ChoreoPictoPoem
© Tiffany Monique, March 2014
|
Saturday, March 8, 2014
Saturday Post 3.8.14
SEEING GREEN
A nonesuch lady wore green and brown, on a nonesuch street at sunset, on a not-so-bad day in a summery Southern California Winter. I saw her. Simultaneously, I didn't see her.
She was blocking the sun with her parasol - lime green with white polka dots. It pinged me. I never saw her face. I never saw her ear, her shoulder. Her body began at the elbow and it made me think of marketing and sexual commodification.
She didn't have a head. That pinged me. She was wearing a dark grass green skirt. A mother's body swaying in the gentle breeze while she waited for the light with a young child at her side. Two thirds of her body in my vision. A series of greens and browns and it made me think of motherhood and fertility.
She was on display, but hidden, and it pinged me. Like people who wear glasses. We bring attention to ourselves while simultaneously blocking people from seeing us. She invited me to see her, and kept me from the kernel of her face. This secret gift she hid from no one. This crazy dance I did with her story, unknown to me.
Ripple, still, ripple. God bless her green and brown hues.
I was driving and had the green light. I couldn't stop to consider her further, but she stayed with me asking questions of my life journey. I think that woman will stay with me until I die - like a lime green post-it note on my soul.
With words, song & prayer, TiMo
www.alwaysalreadyalright.blogspot.com
www.pmeqme.blogspot.com
A nonesuch lady wore green and brown, on a nonesuch street at sunset, on a not-so-bad day in a summery Southern California Winter. I saw her. Simultaneously, I didn't see her.
She was blocking the sun with her parasol - lime green with white polka dots. It pinged me. I never saw her face. I never saw her ear, her shoulder. Her body began at the elbow and it made me think of marketing and sexual commodification.
She didn't have a head. That pinged me. She was wearing a dark grass green skirt. A mother's body swaying in the gentle breeze while she waited for the light with a young child at her side. Two thirds of her body in my vision. A series of greens and browns and it made me think of motherhood and fertility.
She was on display, but hidden, and it pinged me. Like people who wear glasses. We bring attention to ourselves while simultaneously blocking people from seeing us. She invited me to see her, and kept me from the kernel of her face. This secret gift she hid from no one. This crazy dance I did with her story, unknown to me.
Ripple, still, ripple. God bless her green and brown hues.
I was driving and had the green light. I couldn't stop to consider her further, but she stayed with me asking questions of my life journey. I think that woman will stay with me until I die - like a lime green post-it note on my soul.
With words, song & prayer, TiMo
www.alwaysalreadyalright.blogspot.com
www.pmeqme.blogspot.com
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| Onward Looking - February 2014 |
Saturday, March 1, 2014
Saturday Post 3.1.14
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| Annnnnnnnnd Go! Feb 2014 |
He moves so fast the air blurs and time has to chase him
That's how my mouth is
Gotta slow down
Let what I say have the momentum
Of reality
Immaturity screams by at breakneck speed
And the cleanup is too much for even FEMA
Let what I say have the insulation
Of adulthood
He moves so fast his arms become ribbons
That's how my anxiety can be
Gotta be calm
Let how I respond be grounded
Deeply rooted
Wind-driven waves of circumstance
Can overturn fossilized sequoia forests
Let how I respond be noble
Almost royal
He moves so fast
That's how I can be
The art of being still
Starts with admitting turbulence
The art of growing up
Starts with admitting childishness
He moves as a child
My soul is like a child
They both will grow
Despite themselves
www.alwaysalreadyalright.blogspot.com
www.pmeqme.blogspot.com
|
| Onward Looking © Tiffany Monique February 2014 |
Saturday, February 15, 2014
2.15.14 Saturday Post
PING
I thought I was just watching a movie.
I thought I was just watching a movie.
Conflict
Resolution
New conflict
smaller conflict
plot and intrigue
And then a reveal
justification and forgiveness
PING
PING
"I need you to forgive him"
She pulled off her wig
She pulled off her wig
all was revealed
PING
PING
Her cancer killing her body
His cancer killing his friendships
And I thought of my friend and his father
And I thought of myself and myself
PING
"I need you to forgive him"
Sailed home like an arrow shot
And I woke up
Conflict
Resolution
PING
The race is today
PING
The race is today
The marathon of refusal
The marathon of acceptance
Good morning
Gunshot
PING
Which race is being run today
Either way
Which race is being run today
Either way
Go!
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| © Tiffany Monique, 2008 Gwynn Oak, Maryland |
With words, song & prayer,
TiMo
Here's where you can read me:
www.alwaysalreadyalright.blogspot.com
www.pmeqme.blogspot.com
TiMo
Here's where you can read me:
www.alwaysalreadyalright.blogspot.com
www.pmeqme.blogspot.com
 |
| Yours Truly, 2013 |
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Saturday Post 1.25.14
Good morning, I Don't Want to Write
I have writing to complete
I really do
My character has been nagging me
Saying "we don't hang out
Like we used to"
She says, "You're avoiding me"
I have
I have
"You've been avoiding me"
I have
I have
"Forgetting to set time for me"
There were good reasons
Life for one
There were good reasons
Life for one
She says, "my buttbone is still on fire"
Because that is the last scene I completed
And she is still sitting there
And she is still sitting there
She would very much like to
Fight
Or pass out
Or stand up
Or something
Anything to move forward
She is insistent
Almost rude
"Write me out of here!"
She says
"Let me breathe!"
She says
"Only you can save me!"
She says
But I don't want to write
I don't
I'm busy
I'm sleepy
I'm out of my rhythm
And secretly
I don't want to let her go
I don't want to share her
I don't want her to go to school
Where I can't protect her
From the others
From the others
"Please"
She says
"I'm dying of boredom and Yna needs to go down!"
She cajoles
I laugh
I acquiesce
I sigh
Ok I say
I'll write today
But I'm not so sure about tomorrow
"Today is all there is, so good morning"
She says
"And you can reward yourself after
A paragraph
A page
A paragraph
A page
Feel smug
Secretly accomplished
Only
Please write!"
She says
And I know
And I know
I will write today
Despite the fact that
I don't want to
I dedicate this to the writers who have school papers, stories, reviews, essays, poetry, or WHATEVER they need to do that involves that "thing" that calls to you in sleep, asking for interaction because they have something wonderful to give you, the writer, simply for stopping by and spending time with them. Get up, go to that door and walk through. I commend you for doing so, especially when you don't want to.
I dedicate this to the writers who have school papers, stories, reviews, essays, poetry, or WHATEVER they need to do that involves that "thing" that calls to you in sleep, asking for interaction because they have something wonderful to give you, the writer, simply for stopping by and spending time with them. Get up, go to that door and walk through. I commend you for doing so, especially when you don't want to.
With words, song & prayer, TiMo
Here's where you can read me:
www.alwaysalreadyalright.blogspot.com
www.pmeqme.blogspot.com
Saturday, January 11, 2014
Autumn Jade
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| Autumn Jade at roughly 20hrs old, with her loving Auntie, Yours Truly 1/10/2014 |
I was unable to submit my Friday Poetry. Sorry about that.
My newborn niece, with arguably the COoOooOoooLEST name EVER, summoned me to regard and be regarded by her. So here is a poem to mark the occasion.
9-10-11
We say Happy New Year
It is
It really is a Happy New Year
For her
It really is a Happy New Year
For me
The duplicity of duplication
Her brand new eyes
My brand new eyes
What she sees is me
What I see is me
What she sees is new
What I see is new too
My family
My blood
So different
And the same
Her eyes
My eyes
Her perception
My reception
Autumn Jade
A beautiful jewel harvested
And a beloved harvest
A new life
And a new life
Dedicated to my niece, her mother and father, and to my growing family - stronger than ever by the grace of God.
Here's where you can read me:
www.alwaysalreadyalright.blogspot.com
www.pmeqme.blogspot.com
Friday, October 4, 2013
Friday Poetry 10.4.13
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| DC 2008 © Tiffany Monique |
Beautifully awkward
Every joint supplies
Thumb, thigh, lip, hip
From the grave to the skies
Ugly drawers, pretty panties
That's my family
15 minutes of fame
Six to zero degrees
Elbows, spine, ears, hair
Lifted hands and bended knees
Ugly drawers, pretty panties
That's my family
I forgot I was loved
Lost it in a lie of fear
Wrist, chest, abs, calves
I've returned home and everyone is here
Ugly drawers, pretty panties
That's my family
My daughters are not lost
My sons are on their way
Ankle, knuckle, biceps, triceps
I loved you long before today
Ugly drawers, pretty panties
That's my family
Some by blood and some by blood
Adoption sacred and true
Palms, skull, thighs, eyes
I never let go of you
Ugly drawers, pretty panties
That's my family
Yes, I said it
No too many would
Heart, head, hand, land
What's mine is mine, and He made it good
Ugly drawers, pretty panties
That's my family
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| Hiking Shenandoah Mountains 2008 © Tiffany Monique |
With words, song & prayer,
TiMo
Here's where you can read me:
www.alwaysalreadyalright.blogspot.com
www.pmeqme.blogspot.com
TiMo
Here's where you can read me:
www.alwaysalreadyalright.blogspot.com
www.pmeqme.blogspot.com
 |
| Yours Truly, Summer 2011 © Tiffany Monique |
Friday, September 6, 2013
Poetry 9.6.13
Joints
My joints are not separated
All these parts are all me
Like a body jazz influences
Roots to a multi-facet-tree
And I am a heart
And I am a song
And I am a lover
And my ride is long
This journey was hard on my joints you see
I have been greatly wrong and profoundly right
I see things like music
And wasted time is kryptonite
Still I am a heart
Still I am a song
Still I am a lover
Still my ride is long
But then I have to ask myself
Is time in the cocoon truly wasted
For all the pushing through to flight
For all blood from grinding teeth tasted
Because I am a heart
Because I am a song
Because I am a lover
Because my ride is long
Feeling vibrant like the water
Roots that will go nowhere
Flowing gifts like a fountain
From this my heart
From this my song
From this my loving
From this my riding long
Bend and stretch me I won't break
My joints are stronger than my perception
As long as I live I'll I give you what I can
Blessed in my giving and your reception
Through this my heart
Through this my song
Through this my love
Through my journeying on
In the Desert
Dedicated to Seddy Bear & my daughters
I am happily
In the desert
In the dry season
Preparing
I get to be here, waiting for You
This little mouse, I
This lioness, I
I question
Is it better
To be a smart mouse
Or
A dumb lioness
Or
Both
One quiet, unassuming
Often overlooked
One a natural predator
Often fought for her alpha role
I am in the desert, waiting for You
Both mouse and lioness
Learning to be both
Learning to be neither
I am happily
In the desert
In the dry season
Waiting for You
My joints are not separated
All these parts are all me
Like a body jazz influences
Roots to a multi-facet-tree
And I am a heart
And I am a song
And I am a lover
And my ride is long
This journey was hard on my joints you see
I have been greatly wrong and profoundly right
I see things like music
And wasted time is kryptonite
Still I am a heart
Still I am a song
Still I am a lover
Still my ride is long
But then I have to ask myself
Is time in the cocoon truly wasted
For all the pushing through to flight
For all blood from grinding teeth tasted
Because I am a heart
Because I am a song
Because I am a lover
Because my ride is long
Feeling vibrant like the water
Roots that will go nowhere
Flowing gifts like a fountain
From this my heart
From this my song
From this my loving
From this my riding long
Bend and stretch me I won't break
My joints are stronger than my perception
As long as I live I'll I give you what I can
Blessed in my giving and your reception
Through this my heart
Through this my song
Through this my love
Through my journeying on
In the Desert
Dedicated to Seddy Bear & my daughters
I am happily
In the desert
In the dry season
Preparing
I get to be here, waiting for You
This little mouse, I
This lioness, I
I question
Is it better
To be a smart mouse
Or
A dumb lioness
Or
Both
One quiet, unassuming
Often overlooked
One a natural predator
Often fought for her alpha role
I am in the desert, waiting for You
Both mouse and lioness
Learning to be both
Learning to be neither
I am happily
In the desert
In the dry season
Waiting for You
With words, song & prayer,
TiMo
Here's where you can read me:
www.alwaysalreadyalright.blogspot.com
www.pmeqme.blogspot.com
TiMo
Here's where you can read me:
www.alwaysalreadyalright.blogspot.com
www.pmeqme.blogspot.com
|
| Yours Truly, Summer 2011 © Tiffany Monique |
Friday, August 23, 2013
Friday 8.23.13
I've been doing poetry expressing myself via poetry of late, and very happy and productive about it.
But I've also been traveling and I believe I've made yet another emergence.
I was in Oklahoma and Texas in the first part of August (yes, I know -- two of the hottest places to go in the month of August), but I was spending time with people who didn't care about my weird ways, strange sense of humor, or social awkwardness attacks. These people loved me for me. I realized that I loved them even more than I ever thought I would.
Blood, Marriage, Adoption, Covenant. Not everyone came into my family without blood on their hands. I can recount to you, with some unfortunate clarity, some of the daggers in my back, and trauma I've suffered at the hands of a few of the people I visited. And some individuals , I must admit, witnessed my own sinister deeds. But forgiveness is, I'm beginning to see, one of the hardest expressions of love. It's easy to be indifferent, well, easier than forgiving.
On the other side of forgiveness is this incapacitating love. I mean, it incapacitates the need to revisit the wrongs. Don't get me wrong, they come up. At some of the weirdest times you'll find yourself with the PERFECT retort to some random phrase you heard 13, 14, 20 years ago. But when you forgive them, you find that you love YOURSELF so much you just can't relive the drama. You'll find it tastes like rotten cheese in your mouth or something.
At least, that's been my experience of late.
But I've also been traveling and I believe I've made yet another emergence.
However you got into the family,
you're in the family now.
you're in the family now.
That's my big "aha moment" that Oprah likes to talk about in her thirty million media outlets.
 |
| Seiling Tree © Tiffany Monique 2013 |
I was in Oklahoma and Texas in the first part of August (yes, I know -- two of the hottest places to go in the month of August), but I was spending time with people who didn't care about my weird ways, strange sense of humor, or social awkwardness attacks. These people loved me for me. I realized that I loved them even more than I ever thought I would.
Blood, Marriage, Adoption, Covenant. Not everyone came into my family without blood on their hands. I can recount to you, with some unfortunate clarity, some of the daggers in my back, and trauma I've suffered at the hands of a few of the people I visited. And some individuals , I must admit, witnessed my own sinister deeds. But forgiveness is, I'm beginning to see, one of the hardest expressions of love. It's easy to be indifferent, well, easier than forgiving.
 |
| Temple from the Train © Tiffany Monique 2013 |
On the other side of forgiveness is this incapacitating love. I mean, it incapacitates the need to revisit the wrongs. Don't get me wrong, they come up. At some of the weirdest times you'll find yourself with the PERFECT retort to some random phrase you heard 13, 14, 20 years ago. But when you forgive them, you find that you love YOURSELF so much you just can't relive the drama. You'll find it tastes like rotten cheese in your mouth or something.
At least, that's been my experience of late.
 |
| Closer Than it Appears © Tiffany Monique 2013 |
With words, song & prayer,
TiMo
Here's where you can read me:
www.alwaysalreadyalright.blogspot.com
www.pmeqme.blogspot.com
TiMo
Here's where you can read me:
www.alwaysalreadyalright.blogspot.com
www.pmeqme.blogspot.com
|
| Yours Truly, Summer 2011 © Tiffany Monique |
Friday, August 16, 2013
Friday Poetry 8.16.13
In transit
On your mark, get set, GO
Where though
A pioneer through life's paths
A journey from here to eternity
A wanderer through the wonder of the simplest moments
I am in transit
I am not easily surprised, but life has a way of shutting me up
The more I learn, the more I see,the more I wish for simple songs and writing
The less I want to talk, the more I want to ask
What do you want to learn from your life?
What do you want to teach through your experiences?
What do you want your legacy to be?
Let's transit together and share the load
Let's converse about our wonder-wanders
And save each other time and trial
Learning to lean, learning to bow, learning to pray
As we travel from death to life
Let's enjoy the story
Show me your battle scars and I'll show you mine
From the past, when we were stupid
Yes, even five seconds ago
I am tired of my ears being tickled
We are moving from ignorance to wisdom
Through trial and text and a multitude of counsel
I want to go hard after life and excellence
So that when I am old my age will speak wisdom
I will tell my younger ones from experiences
And so I go, and I will bring stories in transit
The Decision
Some say the father failed. Failed. And he believed them as he withdrew into himself. His daughter watched. Her heart's cry was his peace, but she too suffered. Seconds to minutes to hours to days. she followed her father's tacit instruction of castle-building in the land of despair. She could not save him (as if it were her job). She hid her sadness and failure in a bonnet with two holes, thinking she would never allow hope to grace the doorway of her heart. What did it matter, as she would fail anyway (isn't that what everyone told her?). In time, she found a convenient marriage, where her husband never knew her true feelings (how could he, as she did not herself know?). And then came a child. And she had to choose her child, and the love her child brought out of her in spite of herself. This girl, now woman, with child, the linchpin of her family's shift in direction. Some would credit the baby's arrival, but I say it was the girl's choice - to love.
For the Seiling Girls
Hey you, small town girl!
Ride your bike, wear your boots!
Hey you, small town girl!
Walk to church, the library, or school!
You know who you are
And you stand strong
Rodeo princess without a horse
Bringing smiles like corn ears all day long
Hey you, small town girl!
Take your Ag class, join 4H!
Hey you, small town girl!
Drive to Woodward, it's OK!
You were all the most glittering ladies
Each and every one
From ages seven to seventy
Your cadence good and strong
On your mark, get set, GO
Where though
A pioneer through life's paths
A journey from here to eternity
A wanderer through the wonder of the simplest moments
I am in transit
I am not easily surprised, but life has a way of shutting me up
The more I learn, the more I see,the more I wish for simple songs and writing
The less I want to talk, the more I want to ask
What do you want to learn from your life?
What do you want to teach through your experiences?
What do you want your legacy to be?
Let's transit together and share the load
Let's converse about our wonder-wanders
And save each other time and trial
Learning to lean, learning to bow, learning to pray
As we travel from death to life
Let's enjoy the story
Show me your battle scars and I'll show you mine
From the past, when we were stupid
Yes, even five seconds ago
I am tired of my ears being tickled
We are moving from ignorance to wisdom
Through trial and text and a multitude of counsel
I want to go hard after life and excellence
So that when I am old my age will speak wisdom
I will tell my younger ones from experiences
And so I go, and I will bring stories in transit
The Decision
Some say the father failed. Failed. And he believed them as he withdrew into himself. His daughter watched. Her heart's cry was his peace, but she too suffered. Seconds to minutes to hours to days. she followed her father's tacit instruction of castle-building in the land of despair. She could not save him (as if it were her job). She hid her sadness and failure in a bonnet with two holes, thinking she would never allow hope to grace the doorway of her heart. What did it matter, as she would fail anyway (isn't that what everyone told her?). In time, she found a convenient marriage, where her husband never knew her true feelings (how could he, as she did not herself know?). And then came a child. And she had to choose her child, and the love her child brought out of her in spite of herself. This girl, now woman, with child, the linchpin of her family's shift in direction. Some would credit the baby's arrival, but I say it was the girl's choice - to love.
For the Seiling Girls
Hey you, small town girl!
Ride your bike, wear your boots!
Hey you, small town girl!
Walk to church, the library, or school!
You know who you are
And you stand strong
Rodeo princess without a horse
Bringing smiles like corn ears all day long
Hey you, small town girl!
Take your Ag class, join 4H!
Hey you, small town girl!
Drive to Woodward, it's OK!
You were all the most glittering ladies
Each and every one
From ages seven to seventy
Your cadence good and strong
With words, song & prayer,
TiMo
Here's where you can read me:
www.alwaysalreadyalright.blogspot.com
www.pmeqme.blogspot.com
TiMo
Here's where you can read me:
www.alwaysalreadyalright.blogspot.com
www.pmeqme.blogspot.com
|
| Yours Truly, Summer 2011 |
Friday, August 9, 2013
Friday Poetry 8.9.13
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| Image subject to copyright |
I See Dying People
I am surrounded by children these days
There are so many hiding in nakedness
Crying out in disrespectful retorts
Begging to be seen for who they truly are & loved in spite of themselves
They scream laughter because they don't know how much they hurt
They don't want to know
They are afraid to look at their own brokenness
See how scared they are
Of being left behind and looked over
I see them like scenes in a horror film
Long drawn faces of despair
Beggars in a marketplace
Covered in dirty lies and smeared makeup
Scars of lost time and lost hope
They are dying, shouting as they suffocate
Can I come up for air?
Don't leave me behind!
See me! Save me! Love me!
I am surrounded by the beautiful young
Free in body while bound in mind
I am surrounded by their absent looks
And their rage against hopelessness
Tears behind rolled eyes
Afraid to speak, because they have so much to say
A Dream in Prose
A few weeks back, I dreamed of a girl I know. I woke up crying with the joy of feeling overrun by love. After meeting and talking to a young woman on 8/7/2013, I see that there was more to my dream than I initially realized and I would like to share:
The young girl came into the room where I was talking to someone. As she did in the past, she came into the room with her arms out, waiting for her hug from me. Her hands were balled in fists, as she was holding the ends of her shirt in them, so I embraced her, thinking nothing of this ritual. I tried to let her go, but she had buried her face in my left shoulder and was silently sobbing. She didn't want the other people in the room to see, but she couldn't hold it in and she thought I was safe. So I held her secret cries. I held her and stroked her back and kissed the top of her head (which was covered with a white bandanna that had multi-color dragonflies on it). She and I stayed like that for a good long time, and she just cried and cried, and I just poured love into her, rocking and rubbing her back and squeezing her tight. From my shoulder she said something into my ear. I heard it clearly in my dream but I can't recall it now. It was something about wanting to do this for her daughter someday, I think. I said something back, and it was the 'right' response, but I can't remember what it was.
With words, song & prayer,
TiMo
Here's where you can read me:
www.alwaysalreadyalright.blogspot.com
www.pmeqme.blogspot.com
TiMo
Here's where you can read me:
www.alwaysalreadyalright.blogspot.com
www.pmeqme.blogspot.com
|
| Yours Truly, Summer 2011 |
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