{March 28, 2012}   *~Body & Mind~*

Motion. One foot
in front of the other.
Legs swinging, unsteady,
unsure steps. Body
and mind disconnected,
wandering aimlessly,
no sense of direction,
no destination, but
moving ahead all the
I never walk alone
for my thoughts keep
me company, my hopes
keep me going and
eventually I will
find myself somewhere
other than here. Body
and mind separated,
wandering aimlessly,
no sense of direction,
no destination, but
moving ahead all the
Moss will not grow in
my shadow, for I cannot
be content with where
I am. Always moving,
looking forward, chin up,
through the elements,
learning from the missteps,
the mistakes. Body
and mind estranged,
wandering aimlessly,
no sense of direction,
no destination, but
moving ahead all the
Warm hands grasp my heart,
hold it and protect it. I’ve
grown wiser with every
step, older with every
passing moment. I’ve found
a place that provides me
with contentment. I slow
enough to appreciate the
changes, to accept this
pair of hands with a
heart big enough to
love mine. Body
and mind connected,
knowledgeable of direction,
I finally found my destination,
still moving ahead, but no
longer running away.

{March 28, 2012}   This is Probably Pointless…

Physical therapy today… sucked. They had me “planking”. Now I’m paying for it. We did all new exercises today & my body hates me now. All of the muscles surrounding my ribcage are spasming. It just hurts, period. I’m all tense and I can’t relax. A nice hot bath (or even hot shower) would be great right now. The only problem being that we don’t have hot water. We have barely warm water which makes it worse some days. It’s almost comical: I’ve even tried boiling water on the stove and dumping it into the bathtub to warm up the water. It doesn’t stay very warm. Haha.

I’m feeling rather pathetic today.

{March 27, 2012}   Birthdays and Funerals

Today is my mother’s birthday. She turns fifty-one years old today. Luckily, since she sent me such a nice email yesterday morning that I was able to pen a nice poem for her. I used water paint to make a background and then I wrote the poem in ink in the center. I also added a couple of accents to fill up the empty space. Here’s the “card” I made her:


On a side note, my Uncle’s service will be on Thursday at our Church. I must admit that the selfish part of me does not want to go because I don’t want to be surrounded by people. On the other hand, you’re supposed to be miserable at funerals, right?

{March 26, 2012}   *~Simple Pleasures~*

Flower from my Dad's garden.

The warmth of
the sun penetrates
my entire being,
filling my heart
with happiness.
A slight breeze is
tickling the Maple
tree’s branches
and carrying the
scent of spring to
fill my soul with
a new beginning.
Simple pleasures,
down the street
kids splashing in
mud puddles, up
above birds flitting
from limb to limb,
at my feet ants
busily trying
to rebuild their
hills, repair the
damage of a
New England winter.

In the cool evenings
the slight wind
carries the sound
of bears awakened
from a deep sleep.
The stars shine brightly,
the moon illuminates
the new life that
spring has birthed.
The rippling of the
nearby brook fills
my ears with winter’s
demise. If I listen
closely I can hear
the fresh blades of
grass impaling the
soft ground, revitalizing
the lost but not
forgotten scenery.
The time for renewal,
of the body, of the mind,
of the Earth. There is
nothing comparable to a
New England Spring.

I was quite ill Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I’m feeling better this morning. I think I will take today “off” to enjoy feeling better. I think it was a mix of exhaustion and finding out about my Uncle’s tragic death & my Aunt’s cancer. That’s the second suicide death in my family in the last two years. Of course there’s always the guilt of “what if I had visited them more often, what if I had been there, what if I had paid closer attention, did I miss the signs, could I have done something to stop them, etc…”. I guess when it comes down to it all of the “what ifs” doesn’t change the situation. It won’t bring them back. Obviously they were hurting beyond our knowledge and were unable to seek help. I just have to believe that they are in a better place, a happier place and free of their torment.

Unfortunately, my Aunt has not found that happier, pain-free place yet. She is suffering a great deal. Our own selfishness wants her to hang on, to stay longer, but as terrible as it sounds, I’m ready for her to leave. She is in so much pain & so physically ill. She is miserable. I can’t imagine spending the last days of my life in that condition. I don’t want her suffering anymore. She would turn one-hundred on September ninth. She’s ready to go and I think we need to let her.

I am so depressing today, huh? I apologize. I guess death and illness will bring you down quickly. Too bad we can’t recover as quickly.

Okay, so after all of the bad news and depressing rambling I feel I should give you some good news. I emailed a few of my poems to my mother and I was shocked when I woke up this morning to a reply from her. I was even more shocked at what she had to say. Here it is:

“You are not alone. Many brilliant writers have said they don’t know for sure where their inspiration starts or comes from for the priceless, phenomenal poems and stories.
Love You Sweetstuff.          [ your writing always leaves me awestruck and speechless, and these 3 are – – – – – – Phenomenal  the only word I can think of to describe them.”


“Sweetstuff” is a nickname my Dad gave me when I was just a baby. It stuck. Haha. Kind of embarrassing. Three of us children have nicknames. My sister, “M”- Blabber Baby. My brother, “R”- Sweetie Pie. And me, Sweetstuff. Haha. Those were the days, when we were like a family. I kind of miss when I was little, the youngest of six children in the house. There was never a dull moment, yet you could feel the love like static in the air.

{March 25, 2012}   Back in a Creative Mood

This is my latest painting. I feel like I haven’t done any painting in months.

This depicts my current mood and state of mind very well.

This is a self portrait.

{March 23, 2012}   Tragic News

I just got some heartbreaking, tragic news from my mother. My Uncle committed suicide this morning. One of my Aunts found out today that she has colon cancer & there’s nothing they can do. They give her about two weeks to live. I’m stunned, I don’t even know what to say. What can I say?

{March 23, 2012}   *~Stereotype Me~*

It’s a sad reality that our culture gave birth to such assumptions.


If you’re a Negro
You must be a criminal.
If you’re Caucasian
You must have money.
If you’re Middle-Eastern
You must be a terrorist.
If you’re Oriental
You must be a genius.
If you have good fashion
You must be gay.
If you have short hair
You must be a lesbian.
If you’re a Priest
You must be a pervert.
If you wear black clothes
You must be Emo.
If you were a Polo
You must be a prep.
If you’re a jock
You must be dumb.
If you’re blonde
You must be clueless.
If you’re homeless
You must be an alcoholic.
If you have money
You must be a snob.
If you’re a young mother
You must be promiscuous.
If you’re thin
You must be anorexic.
If you’re corpulent
You must be a pig.
If you’re nice
You must want something.
If you listen to Hip-Hop
You must be a punk.
If you listen to Rock
You must do drugs.
If you stand up for yourself
You must be disrespectful.
If you’re confident
You must be a narcissist.
If you’re shy
You must have something to hide.

{March 23, 2012}   *~Losing the Fight~*


How fragile
a heart can be
when it wants for nothing more
than to be loved unconditionally.
How painful
the journey can be
when you walk it alone.
How lonely you can feel
with only your shadow
to keep you company.
The rain pours down
on all of you bad days.
Lightning flashes
thunder rumbles
inside you continue to crumble.
No one here to pick you up
to help put you back together.
No one to ease your fears
to tell you it will get better.
You’ve fallen face-down
no one here, you’re still alone
easier to give up the fight
than to try to get up on your own.

{March 23, 2012}   *~Ring on Your Finger~*


He put a ring upon your finger
To claim you as his own
He promised you forever
But tonight he’s not coming home
Is he really working late or is he with her?

You’ve been married ten years now
Shared your laughter and tears
You’ve stayed true to your vows
But I’ve come here today to tell you
He’s strayed more than once through the years.

That ring on your finger
Doesn’t mean a thing
The promises of forever
Were of a boys dream
Leave him in your rear-view mirror
The tears aren’t worth crying
Just get the hell out of here.

et cetera