Monday, 27 February 2012

All that I Am - Wednesday Features - 7/12/2011

There is a confessional tone in a lot of the poetry that comes into PPM. It’s enriched with insight, experience, and inquiry. And for better or worse, it’s riddled with the intricate details that make each one of us who we are as it exposes bits and pieces of the individuals we are on our way to becoming.
This week’s features are dedicated to all of the extraordinary writing that sits in our gallery. I’ve assembled a collection that aims at extracting the common connections women share (or are simply aware of as members of the sisterhood). May it minister to each of you in areas needing healing and comfort. May it encourage you with an energy filled with vision and renewed hope. And may it uplift you as the pillow-top clouds do as they cradle our dormant, displaced dreams. ~Jenifer xox

For the times I AM floating between two extremes.

Cyber Frankenstein by © MoonlightLover
I am like some cloud that drifts across the twilight moon;
As the gathering wind calls the darkness soon
A dream has the power to put poison in my sleep
I stagger throughout the night dazed and knee deep.
My yesterdays will never be like tomorrow
Only today will I then borrow.
My shadow plays with an invisible power
Electric moonbeams creep from flower to flower.
Ink may flow through the estuaries of my veins
And music pumps the blood to my brain
My life could be just another passing glance.
Is this hurting my intellectual miss countenance?

For the times I AM driven to the quiet corner for much needed interior intervention…

My Thinking Chair by © RC deWinter
There’s no thinking to be done in the jangle of the world;
the shrilling of the phone, the proselytizer at the door,
the overfull laundry basket speaking in a reproachful voice
give the mind no peace.
No, true thought requires silence.
There is a special place I go to think,
the only place I truly can, apart from that monstrous bed
that yawns empty and cold each night when I,
exhausted from the worries of the world,
throw myself into that waiting despair.
But the thinking done there stems from the well of anxiety,
not the calm and reasoned introspection that fosters understanding.
So, when I must puzzle out this tangle of my life,
I seek the clearing in the wood where awaits my chair,
battered by exposure to the elements but yet enduring,
much like the spirit that finds no peace neither in the day to day
nor in the claustrophobic grip of lonely nights.
In the familiar embrace of that rough wood I sit
and close my eyes –
knowing the sun is still shining, the earth still spins,
my heart still beats –
and think thoughts if not deep, at least meaningful to me.

For the times I AM reduced to the product of a tragic reality.

Possibilities by © Vesna VD
Who am I?
In your hands I am a clay
Please, play…

Waari-A Journey of Emotions by © Prasad

For the times I AM balancing between life and death…

the hallowed walls of life and death by © Sally Omar
in darkness i escape
walking through the hallowed
walls of life and death
through the doors of the unknown
searching for the answers
seeking the truth
each time i get a little closer
i am pulled back into a vortex
i swirl throughout time and space
breathless waiting for answers
but my questions remain hanging
on by a thread…..never answered
life calls me back
whispering sweet nothings
in my ear
promises that have never been kept
songs that have turned into screams
wishing for the dance of life
do i return?
i hear death
with its sickle banging
upon the floor of time
promising me peace
and everlasting life
in a place of complete joy
and happiness
to worry no more
to slip into the one endless sleep
to the place where each and everyone
must go whether wishing to or not
wishing for peace
do i grab onto death’s hand?
i continue to swirl between
the promises of life and
the promises of death
holding onto a fragmented life
tortured for either door
that opens is not what i seek
my search continues
dancing between the two doors
hearing all the promises
and yet i doubt life
as much as i doubt death
my quest continues
where will it end
i need answers
i need the truth

For the times I AM forced into an uncomfortable seat at a beloved’s last supper.

Last Supper by © SimplyRed
We sat today for Christmas lunch
as we always do
us Golden Girls
so named by my partner Greg
he felt the name was apt
after the program on TV
We girls have been friends
for almost thirty years
through our marriages our divorces
our looking for a new start
our children making our hearts ache
and now some of us with Grandchildren
so many memories we shared today
sipping our glasses of Red
and of course me being me
leant back in my chair
and observed…as I do quietly
with a smile of contentment
I glanced at each of my friends
glowing in their laughter and love
basking in the knowledge
that we have a link so strong
it came to me that
we have a chain of years
that can never be broken
not with words nor actions
for we have forgiven each other
accepted each other
and simply loved each other
for always…..
I dont really remember how it began to be so
it just IS…..
and as I saw the wrinkles we have grown
the laugh lines we have formed
the scars we wear tucked in our pockets
the glint in our eyes as we reminisced
the knowing smiles , odd chuckles and belly laughs
I am truly thankful I have these beautiful women in my life
for they have been my constant
my life line…….of late night calls for help
my what you doin’ want some company
and so much more
we are soon to loose one of us
to the unmentionable BEAST
for this shall be her last Christmas
but instead of tears
that she has every right to shed
she sat with us as we ate our Last Supper
full of strength happiness
love and laughter
I feel such admiration for her
and then I realised
it wont ever be our Last Supper together
as friends she will remains in my heart
for always
there will be no last supper

For the times I AM sailing through a season of selflessness…

Being Human Being by © MaryMac
dew cool and fresh
sweet southern breeze
no downpour
content and lovely
not self-centered
light and mellow
bringing on memories
of yesterday
days of the past
at what time
as a result
you have
and are
finest things in life?
a touch
a memory
a bit of something to reflect upon
helping others
getting involved
being civilized in society
being courteous
being well-mannered
being thankful for LIFE itself
peace love joy and happiness, always

For the times I AM uncertain whether I’m floating or standing still…

A Mutant’s Yearning by © Mermanda
I’m lost inside the clouds
again I drown
in my head
they pull me around
swaying with the wind
pulling feathers from my wings
plucking thoughts from my dreams
white and fluffy
sinking in splendor
I twist and bend
like a balloon
I get lost
and swoon
like a tree
with no reality
roots reaching towards the sky
the soil is tainted with blood
red ribbons flying above
wind blows through me
but I can’t tell
if I’m floating or standing still
is gravity beside me
or swallowed in my heart
is this another dream
that I awake and scream
cause reality is crushing me
breaking my back
so hard I shrill
life feels so ill
or is this time real?…
has sanity escaped me and I’m counting the stars
lost in the distance
somewhere so far
I feel happy and at peace
no more drowning defeat
but release
perfectly content amongst the stars
searching for a home
I’m tired of being alone
like a mutant freak
maybe a plant with a million petals
so many sides
you can’t label me
so many secrets
about life and love
like their a gift to me
wisdom from above
I am a creature
born to love
so I don’t belong on a planet so wrong
please someone
release me and send me home

For the times I AM that little girl trapped behind a wounded woman’s eyes, peering out at an uncertain world…

A recipe by © Su2anne
When I look inside
It is the
Little One
She is trapped a
Too young
To know
How it is
That it is
To grow.
I delve a little
Deeper and
I was never
Allowed to really
Just be.
Instead required
Or demanded of
Adult not a
No climbing of a
Riding a bike
Or even a horse.
These were things
Other kids did.
They were forbidden to
So in my
Mind I would
Tear up the street
Ride the wind
Look down upon the world.
My one and only saving
Grace was Bella my
Beloved dog.
For it was
She who knew my
Tales of wow.
I will not bore you with the
But to say
That if a
Little One
Is not allowed
To grow
To experience
To have some
Fun and
There is a
That she
Or in this case
Will always
Remain trapped
Unable to see
To properly be
Amongst the
A grown
Who is

For the times I AM the carefree dreamer, spinning atop my broken dreams (despite the detours and deterrents), dressed in pink…

The Dreamer by © Agent7
I wanted to be a dancer and…
I was
not so talented, not
(I tried),
to the music I made with my feet;
heels of my shoes against the ashpalt street,
to tap -
adding soft sand, like
I’d seen the CandyMan do, I…
his moves
til the day he died
I cried
when the licorice shop closed
I rose-up
on my untrained toes…I
wanted to be a ballerina
the tutu was
too, too expensive; my mother,
a little too pensive
to allow me to twirl
on my own
“a silly girl” to think
I could unfurl
that dream,
I still dance
like no one is watching,
(dressed in pink)

For the times I AM challenging who I really am…

What If? by © Sybille Sterk
In my head
I’m someone else
I lead a different life
I wear white with pride
not black in shame
it’s in technicolour
not film noir
There’s a song
playing on my mind
it has a beat like a heart
not a dirge, not the blues
it’s bright
it’s fun
it’s strong
There’s a sense
that something’s wrong
with my mind
with my soul
inside is out
outside is in
and the way is blocked
In my head
I’m not me
but someone else
on the path not taken
to a different future
somewhere over there
and the door is shut
There’s a sound
through the walls
whispering ghosts
sisters and twins
decisions made
options lost
stuck here forever.

For the times I AM anxious about landing upon the landscape of happier times…

Happiness abounding like early morning grasshoppers by © April Mansilla
I am sitting here ready
Wanting to compose something happy
However, tears are running down my face
I am tired
Because my heart still beats in an erratic way
The moment
My toes hit the floor each morning
and I try to run my hands through my feral hair
just hoping one part of this day will be smooth…
but there it goes again
That untamed beat
As I walk through the dark and put
On my favourite torn sweater over my shoulders
and blindly walk downstairs
Feeling the approaching step with the back of my heel
I wouldn’t want to fall now would I?
But why should I worry
I have always landed on my feet….
as I sit here
I should be defeated as I smudge with my fingers last night kohl
I was too tired to take off
And the black winds into my labyrinth fingertips
To find a way
To stay trapped
In this game
But there is always a way out
Ever if I have to climb
I know could keep hanging my shoulders
Slinking timidly along the ground
But you want to know something?
I have proved this
Even when the dark wants to
Hide me
I drink in my warm milk tea
And Cheshire smile
Waiting for
To abound again
Early morning grasshoppers

For the times I AM lost within an ocean of marvelous words, torn between the trade winds of juxtaposed worlds…

Words, words, words by © Katie Leonatti
I sense breath sighing from
The pores of books,
And they know how to draw
Me in until I’m sucked in
So deep I can’t untangle
Myself from one single word,
I can’t step away until the last page
When I’m exhaled and propelled
Into the brick wall.
I have bruises that embellish my arm,
Dramatic splotches of cobalt starbursts
From all the stories that have left
A mark on me.
Every spot reminds me I am not the
Same person I was before
Each book infused my cotton
Brain with vehement words.
People scrutinize each blotch or
Glower at my nose when it cowers
Behind the cracked spine of a book
And inquire, “How can you
Enjoy reading so much?”
But I swear I can hear the pages
Murmur to me everytime I leaf
Through a new book,
“This is my world and all of the
Coruscating characters that crawl
Within it.
You should be here with me.”

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