“On This Day” Repost – Baggage

Seems that 31 October 2014 was a good day for writing – 3 posts came up in my FB feed today.  Of the 3, I decided I liked this one best.  If you’re interested, the original post can be found here.

Baggage

People think of baggage,
as something that is bad,
to be discarded soon as,
the opportunity is had.

But baggage can be useful,
for storing things you need,
to grow and learn and change from,
old life lessons you should heed.

New baggage is the hardest,
it’s lines are sharp and cruel,
painful corners on the cases,
where you’ve been played a fool.

Old baggage can be comfortable
as it fits like second skin,
especially on the corners,
where it’s been broken in.

Recognise your baggage,
whichever style it be,
you paid for all it’s excess weight,
you know nothing comes for free.

Understand the reason that you packed it,
with all the tales it tells,
save what you deem as valuable,
and leave the rest on the carousel.

© ceenoa

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Love Again – A Short Paragraph Story

I never expected to fall in love again.  Certainly not with a younger man, and especially not with a younger man who speaks a different language!   There are moments when I seriously question my judgement; like when I notice his disregard for bodily hygiene, and his undeveloped table manners.  Oh, but when he smiles and hugs me my heart blossoms and overflows with happiness and I find I can forgive him anything – after all a baby grandson is a precious miracle.

14 years

dad in hammock

When Autumn blows,
when Winter snows,
when Summer slows,
when Spring plants grow,
I remember you.

You were my seasons,
and I was content,
to let you be my reason,
for taking the next breath.

Years have turned,
some dreams have burned,
and I have learned,
some memories do not return.

Each tiny part that disappears,
diminishes throughout the years,
the picture that I hold so dear,
and fills me with a desperate fear.

Will one day come,
under this sun,
when all that was our total sum,
dwindles down to none?

© ceenoa

A Poem for a Friend of my Friend

Somewhere,
in what others would call her fall from grace,
she found her freedom.

That choice was hers,
what others decide to remember,
is theirs.

The Universe calls us home,
and each of us will fall, from here to there,
and become more.

Look to the light,
believe in love,
remember in kindness.

Somewhere,
in what others should call her rise to grace
she exists in peace.

© ceenoa

Drip – A Short Paragraph Story

There’s a leak, a trickle of drips. I try to calculate the time between each, wondering idly if there is rhythm to their falling. But it is erratic; sometimes a staccato of drips, then a plop of drops, or a slow slithery splat. Suddenly the curtain of approaching rain reaches my house, drumming on the iron roof it sounds like I imagine gravel in a blender does. Just as quickly the spring squall passes, and I focus again on the leak. My child has a cold, I find them a clean hanky.

Spring has Sprung

early Spring Daffodils (6)
Spring Daffodils

Oh, Spring has sprung,
the sun does shine,
but I’m stuck inside,
and doing time.

I’ve got “the bug”,
in throat and head,
and backache’s forced me
out of bed.

I long to sit out in the sun,
looking at it’s not enough,
but I know that if I move,
I’ll stir up this hacking cough.

This too shall pass,
and it will be,
that soon you’ll spend,
some time with me!

Oh, Spring has sprung,
she shines so bright,
clear blue day skies,
crisp, sparkled nights.

Rhythm of a Rhyme

I haven’t written much,
in such a long, long time,
I am not sure that I remember,
how to craft a rhyme.

Is it the rhythm of the words,
that lulls your brain to sleep,
that allows the nonesense that I write,
to not cause you to weep?

It’s like a swaying dance,
a dangle and a dip,
then a twirl around the floor,
being careful not to slip.

The pattern starts to form,
and words slowly start to flow,
it doesn’t have to make much sense,
as by now you surely know.

It’s the music that’s not played,
that lingers in the soul,
words implied, not spoken,
a simple, easy goal.

Tonight I listened to the rhythm,
I danced a little bit,
it’s no great piece of literature,
but a least I didn’t sit,

this
one
out.

© ceenoa

“On this Day” Repost – Size 20

Yeah, you know I love this little “On This Day” thing on FB, and today it gave me this one from 3 years ago. Here is the link to the original post.  It was great to read some of the nice comments left, and downright weird to read my responses – sometimes I just don’t feel that I type like me!.

*********************************************

So yes, I’m size 20 – an incontrovertible fact,
I’m way past cuddly and curvy, so let’s just call me fat.

“She must be greedy and lazy, to let herself get to that size”,
they speak without understanding, one day they may realise.

It’s so much more than just eating – this chaos that lives in my brain,
compounded of joyful memories, and bottomless buckets of pain.

The food is only a symptom, of things I cannot control,
for though I am shattered and broken, once I was boundlessly whole.

I know it is not the real answer, to things that go “bump in the night”
but just for those few tiny moments, food makes some of it right.

I’ve searched for other solutions, but to food I keep coming back,
so look deeper than just my surface – my pain is displayed in my fat.

© ceenoa

 

“On this Day” Repost – I don’t do Math

I may have mentioned once of twice my favourite FB feature – NO?  Oh, well it is “on this Day” – and on this day in 2014 I wrote the following post.  Strangely enough, today my FB feed has been full of posts of a similar nature; learning to be, living in the moment, being happy.  The Universe does work in mysterious ways – and it pays to pay attention unless you want a kick up the backside.

*****************************

What does it all add up too?
the seconds of my life,
count them off in gratitude,
daughter, sister, mother, wife.

No number can ever tally,
the measure of our worth,
the answer is in living well,
each day upon the earth.