Thursday, December 30, 2010

Hard Boiled

Walking on eggshells
Careful, its an art.
One that takes practice and experience.
First, you crack the protective layer and then slowly peel it away.
The shell is now ready to be broken into pieces.
Lay them on the floor. Spread before you.
Now they're ready. A mosaic of jagged sharpness.
Careful it's gonna hurt. Not just the first time, but the second too.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Four Friends

I found this tonight as I was going through some of my older pieces of writing. I wrote this for a friends wedding a few years ago now. There were four of us who grew up together and we were the best of friends. Fighting, laughing, forgiving and learning we had some great moments shared together. We have since gone our separate ways, but no matter what we always seem to find a way to get together. No matter the time that passes where we don't speak as often as we would like we know the connection is still there. I miss you guys and hope you remember as much as I do.

One group made up of four
Their personalities as different as the grains of sand upon which they grew
A friendship held strong through the toughest of years
They made it through fights; they made it through tears

No matter what, they were always there
The bond between them strong; they laughed, lived and loved
Sharing joys which had a meaning that only they would know
With hands held tight, walking into the future, they found the way to grow

And now they are older
Their lives hectic with time going by, trying to make the memories last
Friends who could share everything by always speaking their minds
Are now sharing in a moment that is only one of a kind

Today the world is right
As one of the four starts her own journey, taking a new path in life
So today is now your day, with the bond between us strong
And as close friends we feel the love, you're right where you belong

So in this special moment
We hope each soul will find, another soul to love, a love that surely binds
And as the river meets the ocean and the waves beat onto the sand
Always remember that today and always the four of us still stand


Existing within the pulse of pain
and hacked from beneath the raw edges
your walls take shape.
The path of departure is that of a matchless night.

A vanilla latte please.

This weekend started with a plan. I was going to sit in and do nothing but study. It worked Friday night and most of Saturday until about 8 o'clock Saturday evening when I went over to my friend Roach's for an espresso making party. Four of us got together to do nothing but eat a delicious array of cream cheese spreads and drink different flavored espresso's. It was a great time! Midnight rolled around and as Roach can do (like no other can) guilted me into staying the night so we could get up and have a waffle/crepe party for breakfast! Izzy (the dog) and Allison came back over in the morning and we started back at it. Cooking up a storm of crepes, blueberry waffles and eggs with cheese. Once finished with our extravagant breakfast we decided to pop in the movie The Holiday. Which if anyone hasn't seen this Christmas holiday movie, you have too. It's just good. I can't say anything other  than that. It's just good. So we all curled up on the couch with our coffee's and swore that once it was over we would return to our "normal" lives, get showered and go about the day. It didn't turn out that way. (which it should have considering I should have been studying) We then went and got the movie Eat Pray Love and Catch and Release. I had read the book Eat Pray Love and at the time of reading it (almost 3 years ago now) it was what I needed. The beginning and end were great, but it was the in between that took a long time to read. Mostly because it wasn't what I wanted to hear and didn't interest me. However, watching the movie today there was a part of the "in between" that I, after almost 3 years. When we make decisions in our lives sometimes those decisions hurt people. We don't want to hurt them and it isn't intentional, but in trying to help ourselves (which most of the time we think is selfish and wrong) we end up hurting them. Then we wait. We wait for them to forgive us so that we can then forgive ourselves. During that waiting period, we torment ourselves with blame. We blame ourselves for feeling the way we did and for the actions we took. They're going to hurt.We need to understand that. We're going to hurt too. But if no one forgives anyone, where does it leave both parties? Waiting. Dwelling. Unhappy and on a road towards bitterness and resentment. Forgiveness has to be from both sides. It may not always happen, but we can't control the actions or feelings of other people. So we need to forgive ourselves and hope that they too will forgive us, but within that hope we can't allow it to consume the new relationships we develop or ourselves. That wonderful cliche saying "Time heals all wounds" is fortunately true. It doesn't mean we forget, it just means we forgive.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Good night Thursday

I don't want to ramble on about the things that have not gone so great in the past few months, but I will say today I had just about had it. Sitting on the couch tonight telling myself not to cry because it could be worse I realized tomorrow is Friday. Why is that special? It's not. But it is a new day and tomorrow I'll write something happy.

The wind
it's blowing
it's so loud
So loud you can hardly hear yourself think
You have to yell for anyone to hear you
it's drowning out my voice
I can't be heard
it stops
I'm still yelling, but still not being heard.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Medium Ash Brown

This week has been long (and it's only Tuesday), but papers and presentations are finally finished. I took a big sigh of relief tonight. Glad to have had a bit of time to sit and read, write and enjoy the company of a great friend.

It's raining now
It was sunny, muggy, sticky
You could feel how the clouds wanted to let it out
Burst into streams of rain
The pressure mounting
Now they've errupted
Hitting the hot pavement
the steam rising from the asphalt
It will last just long enough
And then it will be over
The coolness that it brings is needed
It was hot. Too hot
There is a freshness in the air
A newness
A cleansing
For now everything is wet,
It'll get dirty again
Give it time

Just maybe

Finally, a feeling felt other than hurt
Finally a feeling other then pain
It happened, and felt good
Surprising after so long of wondering;
Would it happen

But now it is getting easier
Loving isn't so hard to do
It takes time,
It takes a moment of weakness

Finally, a feeling felt other than hate
Finally a feeling felt other than shame
It does happen, and feels good
Surprising after trying to stop it for so long
It does happen

And now, it is easier
Loving isn't so hard to do
It takes time,
it takes a chance

Wednesday, November 24, 2010


Sorry is asking for forgiveness
for something done wrong.
It's a word that shouldn't have to be said very often.
Only for moments when one is truly sorry for their actions or words.
Sorry, is a word I don't need to use so often.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

drunk again, olivia lee and oil paint

There are people who come into our lives and leave an impression. Good, bad or ugly.  But they leave us with something to think about, learn from and hold on too. I read somewhere a great author say " You know you've left an impression if you get quoted, sited or written about" 

Drunk Again
(after Jean Beraud's painting Les Buveurs d'Absinthe 1908)

Thats Me!
not me, but me
And I sympathize
Been there, done that, my signature stare
 If only he knew how she felt
                     If only he knew how I felt
Have Another!
It's probably his fourth or fifth. Her first
                                           I know how you feel, the disappointment
                                                                                                 the anger  
                                                                                                       the regret
                                            Oh well, Bottoms up!

     Olivia Lee

A boat in a picture
Drawn by a friend
Leans against my stand
A gift, made by talented hands
to remind me of him

Carefully sketched and deep with detail
it says so much,
but still stays silent.
Perfect in many ways

The ship strong and steady
A self portrait of security
A warm sea of sincerity and warmth.
Not only seen through the picture
but through his eyes
His emotions as calm as the sea itself

The stillness of the water
and the openness of the ocean
are reflections of the artist behind this image

Oil Paint

You wrap your thoughts in works of art
Beauty is what you see

Colors vibrant, textures gritty
                                            Raw, straight lines

Blocks build the scenes in your mind
Made real by your palette

A mixture of tints and shades
                                           Shadows and light

Smeared and coated, the canvas exposes the image

You wrap your thoughts in works of art
and they're all hanging on the walls of my heart.

Monday, November 22, 2010

My origins

Growing up I lived on a small island in the middle of the Bay of Fundy which many have never heard of. I love that I come from that island. It has helped shape who I am today and the salt of the sea runs deep within me.

On this island
speckled and imperfect
a child sits on the sand
and looks down at the sky
Her legacy ripples on a beach of echoes
a wave curling back to her origins
Her history begins here
on the hoarse hush of waves
and white like surf a whisper of blessings
is sent to the land
We tread that ground of rebirth
as each tide comes in
but these are the waters,
the earth, and the air
that made me

 Cedar Street

It was a corner lot, the last house on the street
Brown shingles, clean white shutters, paved driveway
The border of the property lined with lilacs and crabapples

Now, it has a green roof, a driftwood fence
and fake man made dirt hills
Grass peaks out from the cracks in the pavement

The brook out back and the pond beyond it
made a tranquil setting, as the sun coined its way goldly down
Breaking amidst reaching branches and fingering leaves

Now the pond is waterless and the brook hushed by neglect
a meandering stream
An embankment of clouds offer rain

The white walls were bright with sun, lit by smiles
and the yard punctuated with flowers
the scent of home swells up softly

Words written of a precise mansion in which my family lived
A fortress it once was now a crumbling shrine
a forlorn wreck of shingles

The beginning

This is the beginning of a new adventure I'm embarking upon. I love reading other peoples blogs and get inspiration and great ideas from many. I have always loved to write and sharing my writing has been something in which I have not been the most comfortable in doing. But sometimes taking those chances and being vulnerable to others (and their criticism) leads us down a path of trust, learning and self discovery.  So here I go. I hope you enjoy, find something worth reading and maybe the words you couldn't find to say yourself.