Driving Dreams

I.
It's nighttime, and I 
Am in the back seat --
Suddenly realize there is no
Driver. How is this thing
Going? How are we not
Crashing? And where
Is the destination?

ii.
It's daytime, amid much traffic.
I am driving, swerving,
Worried about crashing
But narrowly averting 
Every obstacle -- until I arrive
Safely, somewhere.

iii.
Once again daytime, and I 
Am both inside and outside 
The car, seeing a busy 
Intersection. After some
Successful swerving, we
Crash, and I'm both
Dead and alive.

Did I mention I can't drive? 


This was inspired by / in response to Paula’s dream interpretation #10 at MLMM. I have driving dreams a lot, especially for someone who doesn’t drive in real life, and most of them don’t turn out well, or at least they are very stressful.

Photo by Bruno Ticianelli on Pexels.com

Ouch

M-R-S degree:
Not life’s entire attainment
But I can’t help it —
Want someone to share my life,
Someone to accept my love

This tanka was inspired by the wordle below from MLMM. The word “marriage” specifically led to me writing this. The point of a wordle is to use most / all of the words, but I’m still linking up.

A couple of months ago, my bf and I of 15 months broke up, since his mother decided that she didn’t like me, for the sole reason that I have an entry-level job. It has been a really hard process, especially because my ex hardly even stood up and fought for me, even though he was crazy about me and all but proposed. Everyone I’ve spoken to says that A. his mother was way out of line, and B. I deserve better. Sometimes I believe that. In fact, I believed it more in the beginning, to be honest. I even got angry with my now-ex and told him to “grow some balls” — and I usually don’t use that kind of language, especially not to someone’s face!

Today it still hurts so much to be judged in such a way. It has been especially difficult because even if I “deserve better,” where can I find “better;” I don’t know?

More Star-Stuff

Might as well share with you what was supposed to be the last poem on this blog, written and originally shared on September 2, 2021. I had forgotten about this one and was shocked that I could write something even remotely hopeful when I was feeling swallowed by the black hole. I intentionally wrote 31 words and responded to 2 other challenges with this poem, originally.


To thwart everything
That evil plans —
Is it possible?
Even if we can’t,
Don’t let that black hole
Pull all the star-stuff,
But let it twinkle,
Dance and keep on shining.

Death? Life

As I mentioned in my previous post, today is the feast of the Exaltation of the Cross. This got me thinking not only about Jesus and his suffering on the cross but his life. We hear so often, “Jesus died for you” that it can get boring and trite, even for believers. What I think is much more radical is: Jesus lived for you.

People have pointed out to me, someone who suffers from severe, chronic depression, “The Bible says Jesus was ‘exceedingly sorrowful, even unto death.'” True, but that was one night. Try about 50% of the nights in the past 2 decades. Also, yes, he suffered a TON physically on the Cross and on the way to it — but that was only a few days of his 33 years. I’m not trying to complain, but the truth is that sometimes I think I’ve got it worse.

What amazes me more than the dying and rising again, quite frankly, is that he did live for 33 years. And he chose to be born! If I had the choice, I wouldn’t choose to be born. Plus, he chose to be born into a poor family, rather than a rich merchant or a noble family. He easily could have had a life of extreme comfort (at least, relative to that time period), but he didn’t. He didn’t even have coffee! Or bacon, for that matter. Coffee is one of my daily consolations; I literally wake up to drink coffee, rather than drinking coffee to wake up. Also, Jesus never got married. If I live long enough and find someone willing to marry me, I hope to get married. He went without that.

33 years, in a time without all the technology and modern amenities that we have today. No running water, no air conditioning, and Jesus was poor even in relation to the society of that day. That’s what impresses me most.

Thoughts? I am interested to hear your take on this, even if you found it really offensive. 🙂

So Loved

You know that you are so loved —
By whom? Just by God
And my mom?

A cruddy quinzaine poem for MLMM’s Saturday Mix. I’d like to try to write another one, but that’s where my mind’s at. Like, maybe there are 2 other people besides God and my mom (but they didn’t fit in the poem). Overall, people don’t care. Unless you say that you want to die, and even then I don’t think they care, so much as they don’t want to feel like they let someone die.  I don’t really want to die right now; it’s just the depression is horribly symptomatic (and has been for, like, years).

A Mirror into My Brain

For today’s blog update, I have 2 poems that I wrote today. One of them, the cherita, was inspired partly by a prior FOWC (yesterday’s, which was the word “prior.” 🙂 ). The second poem is a mirror cinquain. Some of these things I just have to get out….

"Not in Remission"

"Some people have got real problems."

Sometimes stuff happens which makes
Everything prior seem inconsequential.

Anxiety came, depression deepened, perfectionism
Metastatized and I even after everything
Still feel that cancer crawling in my bones.



So much
Adversity
Going on day to day,
Feeling like Atlas, what weight to
Carry!

Hold it
For a moment, many moments,
So much awareness of 
Consolation
Often.

The people who see me at church usually think I’m vivacious and extroverted; someone recently called me “a delight to be around,” and a coworker became one of the roughly 30 people who have declared me “adorable.” That’s really funny because it’s not like I’m lying about who I really am, yet spend a couple of hours in my brain on more or less ANY day, and you’ll see how wrong that perception is! It’s paradoxical.

Helping Hand

When I saw Sadje’s WDYS picture for this week, I immediately thought of this meme (this is just the template):

Meme Generator - High fiving drowning person - Newfa Stuff

It took me longer to come up with anything to write for it. By that I mean that I had nothing until this morning. My poem doubles as a late response to SoCS: Key. It is “Stream-of-Consciousness Sunday” this time. 🙂 This was supposed to be a rondeau, but after the first 2 lines I realized the rhyme scheme was wrong, and with SoC you can’t edit, so… voilà.


No way to swim alone, you see
For life ahead, help is the key.
Drowning in the ocean, he pleads
But silently, for no one hears,
A helping hand is what he needs
But he is left with only fears.
We’ll drown if we’re alone, you see
For life ahead, hope is the key.

My Favorite

A repost of my favorite poem I’ve ever written, for MLMM’s Sunday Confessionals, also shared with the link-up at Poets and Storytellers United. Linking with DVerse Open-link on 8/18/2022, so I will be reading it aloud.


“Call Me Hagar”

I feel alone, connection’s far tonight,
I see no smiling star tonight.

Even the moon has forgotten its light.
Shrouded, it makes the sky dark as tar tonight.

My mind sees a battlefield near:
What emotions will I need to spar tonight?

Depression, restlessness, fear, anxiety?
What demons come to wound and scar tonight?

Yet hope alone, even now, can fight
The darkness; complete despair I’ll bar tonight.

In the midst of these anxieties God sees:
I sob in God’s arms. Call me Hagar tonight.

The Third Wheel

picture taken in my backyard in mid-April

For MLMM’S Saturday Mix: Lucky Dip, the poetry form is called a Septolet. It is 14 words over 7 lines, in 2 stanzas. Finally, I have written something to go with this photo; I’ve had a draft for 4 months!

"Third Wheel"

She
Forlorn flower,
Unchosen third wheel

Never preferred 
Second choice
Sees happy couple --
Sulks

This form was fun, so I write a second one (about a not-fun thing).

"Chronic" 

Depression:
Sustained assault
Sucking life dry

Vampyric leech
Underneath skin
Parasites away life --
Incurable 

No Room for Breath

For “6 Sentence Stories,” our word this week is “space.” That reminds me of the story I shared last time, but I went in a different direction than that. 


Her chest constricts; there’s not enough space, too many people in this room.

If she sits in the pew, she prefers the edge, as the middle is stifling, and she prefers a clear view of the door in any room.

The quarter she spent in a small, windowless math class was torture.

She feels sad not to sing, but the practice room is too small, too crowded with this new choir — she’s tried.

When people ask her why she doesn’t sing in the choir, she says she can’t because she works during the time that they practice.

Even when that wasn’t an outright lie, she was not being honest.