They say when you breath slow, head between your legs,
When your mind works out things,
Your lost words will flicker home.
You’ll not feel drained, the sky’ll end hailing;
You’ll soak up the rain, a starving tulip, not cowering.
There are ways to feed your soul, and feed mouths.
And you try to listen inside,
to the conscience that knows only His tones.
I have plans, great journeys ahead;
I plan for you to prosper and bloom despite your frail limbs.
Yet, I scramble; I’m turning up rocks as I limp;
Tilling this garden, as my hands bleed life.
Dirt acrid, stuck in my nails, tattooed on my skin,
An oder I’ll not forget —fresh, as the dew on the grass after the storm;
Nose-wrinkling pungent, life’s essence.
I peer into the vastness, to the valley where I beg to rest.
I’m tumbling with trepidation; I’m scared of unknown sensations.
I’m pushing against the grain — I’m not easily killed, defeated as weeds by chemicals and garden gloves.
Lie near me on the peppermint grass, stroke my hair as it floats ‘round my face;
Loose on the grass as whiskey, as in the pale chinook winds, we find peace and relax.
Lie beside me, for I am weary of fighting alone;
I don’t know how to carry your burdens — our burdens or mine.
My eyes slip closed and I sleep in Neverland,
Lost girl fierce, but never little.
Still, I’m the determined pink daisy as a-new-day’s sunlight feeds my soul;
So, nourish it well dear one, and for your love, don’t ask so much that I break.
Feed my soul, hear my prayers, Lord.
Sometimes I’m the wilting violets, the frost slips in as fingertips black pluck at my leaves, my frozen petals.
Feed my soul, and answer its song.
Have I chosen right?
Or, am I gliding towards a ledge,
More than hanging my toes over a bit;
Am I free falling towards darkness and sin?
Or, am I trying to trust, to hope, and to love?
A entrepreneur for authenticity and someone whose love sets us both free.
Oh Lord, am I free wheeling to death?
A cat who’s twitched too late before the coyotes growl at bay;
Before mistakes will cost me dear.
Yet, in the end, my love and I are asleep in the grass, Protect our small worlds,
I can’t find the answers and each day we struggle.
Hear our petitions when we forget, you carry us both when we stumble — even when we can neither find free love, but from you.
Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesdays and also thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting a Sunday Writing Prompt based on a Watery theme and one of the topics: Up the creek without a paddle, Wading Upstream, The River Flowing Up a Hill, and When the Fish Stop Biting.
Caramel and cantaloupe burn white,
The sun setting, in fiery depths it gleams.
We struggle ‘gainst the current, it’s our plight,
A journey many take wading upstream.
We fight not to slip, sweat-stained body’s heave,
Then, deltas and islands draw near, take form.
In felicitous breezes, drenched clothes dry clean,
Acrid earth bears us, we tremble on shore.
Caramel, Bellini sky’s, rain pours —
We clasp tight hands waiting for the ‘morrow.
Another night in the grit of sands touch,
We dream of skyscrapers, our souls believe;
We’re past the current, our fingers bold clutch,
Memories, hopes, the warmth of home found breathes.
No more suffering in past with disease.
A butterscotch sky, fresh peaches, tall palms —
The sun rises — a gift, fresh view point now gleaned.
So blessed to have another poem on http://www.spillwords.com. This poem is based off the poem “New Colossus” by Emma Lazarus and is a commentary on current immigration policies in the U.S., now, and in the past, but particularly, in the late 19th century where many Europeans immigrated to the U.S. to escape poverty, persecution, and starvation. Unfortunately, the U.S. was not much better than where they came from. But it was better enough that they could survive even in neighborhoods such as the brutal and famous 5 ‘Points District’ in New York City.
The poem was published in late November and I missed it. But here it is now for your thoughts and enjoyment. It’s called “Giants of Hypocrisy.”
He walked through the frozen world elated. The trees were silent and still as ice coated their needles. He was satisfied with what he saw, with winter’s permanent hold on this world. He preferred the isolation and tranquility he found in blizzards that howled and the quietness of a world blanked in thickness of snow afterwards.
Every day he walked through his Winter Wonderland satisfied that it’s inhabitants remained mostly indoors, only venturing outside when they had to. Life was a vicious battle for survival here and he was proud to have been the one who initiated this struggle.
Then one morning he walked outside and heard the triumphant roar of a lion; he shivered in fear. He had not heard that roar for milannias. It was the roar that had silenced his mother, that belonged to the beast who ripped out her throat. He felt overly warm, used to frigid cold, feeling furious when he saw that overnight the pine needles of the trees had been freed from their ice cage. The lion roared again and the white prince ran.
Good Morning! I’m thrilled to share with you another blogger and writer for my bi-weekly interview series. For personal reasons The DifferentOnecannot share her true name. But she is a talented blogger trying to find herself in life through her writing and blogging. Her blog is called: Standing Out As The ‘Real Me’.
1. Please Tell Us About Yourself?
I used to use the pseudonymAirg but now I go by The Different One. I’m from the USA but my origin is Indian. I can’t share a picture of myself for personal reasons, but I am a girl.
I attend school and afterwards I share my experiences during the day on my blog. I’m told a have a pretty mature mind for my age. Sometimes I act my age. I only let people who know me well see I’m your average girl. I suppose I’m afraid to see certain people’s response if I don’t act maturely most of the time. I’m smart and intelligent, but other kids didn’t especially appreciate this fact. Particularly, during my preteen and teenage-age years, life was tough for me.
Something interesting about me was that I wasn’t supposed to be born. There were issues at my birth. The Doctors said I’d lose an eye, lose a leg, or die during my fourth month of life. But this didn’t happen thankfully.
I was born two-months premature at about seventeen-inches, weighing only a pound. But despite having issues at birth and when I was a small baby, it doesn’t affect me now. I had a blood infection when I was born. But, I survived and today I’m your average girl.
2. So How Do You Feel About Yourself Today?
Some people receive gifts or talents such as strength, beauty, or intelligence. Although, I’m smart, I’ve never felt pretty. Sometimes you see people walk by and think, “That person is pretty.” But it isn’t the case with ME! I don’t pay attention to what others think of my appearance because beauty is not my gift.
I have a medium brown complexion, which I think is an unattractive feature for a person to have. I used to worry about it. At school even though people don’t particularly try to be rude, Ican tell by their facial expressions what they think of my appearance.
It is and was difficult to be a girl who isn’t attractive. I wanted to standout at school and be noticed for my looks as some girls are. But, one day I realized beauty isn’t important, nor what others thinking about my appearance. I’m just me. God gave me, myself as a gift and I’m satisfied with her.
By the way, I don’t believe in popularity and certain religious principals and beliefs. I do believe, however, God gave me life, guides me, and allows me to take a hold of my life in the direction I best see fit. I guess you can tell now, I don’t talk as a person of my young age usually does.
” [O]ne day I realized beauty isn’t important, nor what others think about my appearance; I’m just me. God gave me myself as a gift and I’m satisfied with that.” – The Different One
3. When Did You First Start Blogging and Writing? What Value Does Writing Have To You?
I started blogging a few weeks before my birthday on June 23, 2016. Writing means a way I can show people who I am. A way they can appreciate me for who I am. I write to share my experiences and journey through life. Perhaps I write to find the real ME, I’ve been searching for her for a long time.I want to be able to act like myself and not feel judged.
4. Where Do You Find Your Inspiration and Motivation to Write?
Whoa! This is tough! I started writing to find myself as I mentioned above. I was going through a stage trying to figure out my purpose and who I am; an experience everyone goes through at sometime. For me this stage occurred earlier than I expected. Nothing particularly, motivates me to write except myself sitting down and writing. I write for me, alone, if that makes any sense.
My inspiration is my cousin Nimi. She’s the reason I can say I’m happy to go through this stage I’m experiencing. We have always had this sisterly connection since I was six-years-old. In a way, she inspires me to be the person, the human being I am today. In this way she is an inspiration to me when I write. Other wise, I honestly don’t know what inspires or motivates me in my writing.
“Writing means a way I can show people who I am and they can appreciate me for who I am. I write to share my experiences and journey through life. Perhaps, I write to find the real ME I’ve been searching for, for a long time. The me I can’t act like at the moment, but I want to be able to act like.” – The Different One
5. What Time of Day Do You Most Enjoy Writing? Is There a Purpose To Your Writing? Have You Ever Had Any Writing Published?
Well after 3:00 pm is the best time for me to write because that’s when school ends. Mostly, I write from 6:oo pm through 10:00 pm. My purpose or project is to find my path in life, at the moment.
I have some writing pieces which I thought about publishing before. People at school used to try to act cool. To me it was as if they were acting so ‘sunshiny’ all the time; they weren’t authentic. They were hiding behind a shadow. I wanted to explore this shadow people hide behind and find out who they actually were. I approached my writing as if I was trying to get to know these people and their personas. I guess when I wrote, it fell into the topic of human psychology. But I don’t do that kind of writing anymore on people’s false personalities; however, I do plan writing more about human psychology, growing-up, life, and my beliefs in the future. That’s my ‘thing,’ my area of expertise.
6. On Your Blog, Do You Have Any Publishing or Writing Process You Go About? Are There Any Writing or Read Genres You Prefer?
I have no idea how I publish, even on my blog. I just write stuff and see what comes out. Publishing for real is something that will come much later for me. I have no writing process really. I am not writing as a professional. I want to write like me, to express myself and what I’m going through. I write,write,write and post it on my blog if I feel like it. That’s about it.
I enjoy writing about experiences in life, human behavior mostly. I always write something about humans and how they feel and react. I love reading biographies about famous individuals such as Anne Frank. I also enjoy reading realistic fiction or diaries which have been published.
“People at school used to try to act cool. To me it was as if they were acting so ‘sunshiny’ all the time; they weren’t authentic.They were hiding behind a shadow. I wanted to explore this shadow people hid behind and find out who they actually were. I approached my writing as if I was trying to get to know these people and their personas more.” – The Different One
7. Do You Have Any Helpful Advice for Other Writers? Is There Anything Else You Would Like to Share With Us About Your Self or Your Blog?
I don’t specifically have any helpful advice for other writers because I know some people might not listen to my advice. All I can say is for bloggers and writers is to write whatever you want.Be who you are and write, even with mistakes and spelling errors. Simply write and whatever comes out, comes out. Write like you!
I feel my writing journey will end sometime. I won’t write until I die on my blog. Once I figure out who am and deal with the realities of life bothering me, than for me, I’m done. I’ll remember writing and blogging as a ‘finding me,’ exercise in life.
My best friend died about a year ago. March 15,2015. I remember it very clearly. My grandparents called and it was 11pm night in USA.It was awkward because they never call at that time, we would be sleeping, But,that day my family was busy with stuff.
Phone : Beep beep
Mom: Your grandma might be calling. It’s late!
Grandma: Saying stuff.
Mom: Aww. Poor thing. When? I can’t believe it. When we used to visit India it was always there. *******( my name) loved him. I won’t tell.
Me: ( I was thinking it might be about Tyson. He was getting old. And dogs don’t live that long) Mom anything happen? Tyson?
Mom: No,no, he’s fine.
Me: Mom c’mon!
Mom:(Saying in a language I didn’t know to my dad random stuff.) I heard Tyson’s name though.
Me: Tell me! Is he dead? I started crying a bit.
Dad: No! He’s just in hospital. Stop crying.
Few days later I go on Facebook. But, now I don’t have it anymore. I see a post from my uncle’s account. It was posted March 17,2015 12:56 pm or am. It had a pic of my dog wearing sunglasses. It said something like” not forgotten”. I was like” huh”????? In the comment section everyone was saying “Rip”. I was like wtf. Something is totes wrong!
I called my uncle even though it was 2am in India. I screamed and cried. He said no no. They were kidding. Nothing happened. And all that shit. But, I believed it though.
That summer when I went to India I saw my uncle. I asked him at the airport what actually happened to Tyson. He told me this shitty story about a doctor having a lot of loans, so he took all the animals and ran away, Tyson was with them. I’m like stop! Tell me. But, at that point I knew he died. I just wanted to hear it from my uncle’s mouth. He said Tyson is dead. I started crying.
The whole 2 hour drive I cried. When I reached my grandparent’s house my face was crispy and dry, gooey at some edges.
I visited his graveyard and prayed. I learnt that he was sick one day. He threw up. And usually my grandma cleans it up. But,she just came from the hospital ,so my grandpa did. And he was staring at my grandma. Then he slept for a while, and wasn’t replying. My uncle was on tour. And my grandma called him immediately and said something happened to Tyson. And Tyson was my uncle’s son. He rushed back home but 6 hour drive though. My uncle’s friend came and in a blanket carried Tyson to ambulance.
After a few minutes in the ambulance, the thingy that shows if they are breathing normal was going straight. Then the nurse said,” Sir he is no more!” My uncle’s friend came with the bad news. And everyone cried. My grandparents fell sick because they were in grief.
My grandma closed his eyes and after my uncle came back they did his funeral. They dug him up near a field near our grandparent’s house.
Every time I go there,I see his graveyard and pray and cry.
But, time goes on. I can’t go on praying to God to see Tyson one more time. It won’t work. I kept saying,” Take my life. Not his”. But, c’mon guys. He’s gone alright. Gone.
This summer in India I got a key-chain with a piece of rice. It had his name on it. I put all my sadness in it.
The day before yesterday our family went to the beach. It was 8-9pm. I took the key-chain put all my emotions in it and threw it away. It kept coming back though, so finally I took it out of the box and threw it. I realized that he’s not dead to me anymore. He’s a part of me from now on. I shouldn’t be sad because I can’t see him. I believe he’s always there watching. When I grow up I’ll realize he wasn’t watching, I said that to make me feel better. I do know he isn’t. I know he’s dead. But, who said I can’t lie or believe in something to make me feel better about him.
I buried a letter about him in the sand. Whoever reads that years from now on will know about this foolish girl and her best friend.
Yes, yes, a dog as a best friend is foolishness for all of you guys. But he was my closest buddy until I was 3 years old. Don’t you all think I loved him like crazy?!
His death or absence made me look at animals differently. I don’t get too attached anymore because I don’t have that much left in me to get hurt. I am not tough, or strong physically and emotionally. I’m sensitive and emotional. I can’t go through anymore deaths.
I don’t believe in having multiple BFF in life. Have one for once and for all. Tyson will always be my best friend forever. Humans, nah, anything could happen. Lol. To be safer and happier I’d stay with one forever.
9. Here Are A Couple of Additional Links to A Different One’s Page:
Thank You To A Different One For Sharing With us her writing views and her journey to find herself and her path in life through her writing. I wish her all the best and hope that she finds writing not only helps her as she struggle through a difficult time now, but as she grows older. Once again here is a link to The Different One’sBlog:
Thank You for coming back and reading my bi-weekly interview series. I so appreciate your visits and those of you who have participated sharing about yourselves and your writing processes, whatever part of life you are in. If you would like to be featured in my bi-weekly interview series please reach-out to my on my contact page. Thanks and see you in two-weeks.