The Thought Vox

And I love…
The depth in your eyes
Your groove – Your mind
Your laughter – Your smile
How you inspire

And…
I can’t wait to see you again

Goddess Beauty
Forever divine
Blend your love into mine
Together – Always in time
Two lives we’ll entwine

Goddess Beauty
Keep those things inside
Please don’t cry
I have to hide
What will they say
They can’t know me this way

And…
I don’t want to see you again

~~~~~~~~~~~

Darkness walking at your side
Neither lovely – Nor divine
Fear and loathing deep inside,
ruling truths you choose to hide
The song – becomes the lie

And…
Death to your Goddess Beauty

This evening I sat in my new, orange, room listening to soft music after another busy day of painting and unpacking. With my back propped against the headboard, and legs stretched out, I was happy to relax. My shelves are lined with books. It is so nice to be surrounded by words again. 

My mind started to wander as it often does – I got to thinking about how great it is to listen to people read aloud when they are passionate about words. I’ve sat before many authors and listened as they delivered their tomes. It is moving! Much like watching a musician perform.

Call me a geek – but back in January when I was hanging out with my dear friend, Marnie we had the best time reading aloud. She is a passionate author and one of the best purveyors of spoken word. Listening to her read from Whitman’s “Song of Myself” brings me to tears. Yes! This is my idea of fun!

Marnie Woodrow
Spelling Mississippi

I’ve always hated to read out loud. Stemming from my grade three English teacher who was a tyrant. No matter what I did it was wrong (I think she hated red headed kids) – reading out loud became traumatic. I always stammered and read too fast. Marnie has beaten the fear out of me over the past four years. She has forced me into speaking publicly (literally). She demands I read a passage over and over until it flows from my mouth as it does off my page. She is a great stage director – pulling the words out until I can FEEL every one. I am ever grateful for her coaching as I have overcome the fear of reading in public. It’s sort of a must for a writer.

RED HEADED KID

The best thing ever is listening to a lover read. Forget the flowers and candy – nothing beats the swish of a turning page and the tone of a voice giving life to a passage. NOTHING! It’s been a long while since anyone has read to me. As I sat here this evening I smiled at the thought of the future – a new chapter in life, and perhaps – if I’m fortunate – A love who will read to me and with me. Of course I will read back to her.

A line popped into my head as I pondered. That line inspired me to grab the Mac and start typing what ever flowed. If Marnie were here she would tell you that I loathed sharing my poetry with anyone. A few years ago I pretty much proclaimed, “I’m a writer of prose as my poetry is putrid.” She said something profound like, “bullshit – write a poem – make it two. You have a week.” So here I am and a poem spilled out of me without provocation. As you might have guessed it is a poem about a lover reading aloud. Hope you enjoy.

Let me qualify this piece: I no longer think I am a putrid poetess, HOWEVER, I am no Whitman, Shakespeare, or Woodrow (Marnie) Proceed with small expectations…

Haunted by a stranger’s ghost.
Casualty of my father’s sin.
Love is strong – demons are stronger.
The bitter taste of the bottle,
sweeter than his child’s love.

What was given – Uninvited.
Somehow made me something less.
Deep scars through paper amour.
Sorrow – Anger – Hunger – Fear,
in the harsh landscape of childhood.

Anger’s chains grow roots and weeds.
We are weakness – we are will.
Spirit bruised but never broken,
bravely stepping from the past.
Forgiveness is the blessing found.