This cherita is not for any prompts but is what I’m sharing for NaPoWriMo day 3. ❤ I almost don’t want to share this one yet really like it.
I want to write you so much poetry. The words come, but they go quickly As a river, swept away in love's ecstasy. All that remains is to create poetry Of our bodies, as my hands grasp for symbolism In your skin, and my mute lips meet yours.
I wrote a cherita for FOWC: Hinder, MVB: Melancholy, and MLMM’s Sunday Confessionals. It’s not about a yearning from that long ago, not specifically, but on a deeper level I guess it is about the longing for hope and being deeply loved.
Your melancholy nature does not hinder you from laughing, From leaning over wheezing from so much merriment; and My melancholy nature does not hinder me from finding So much hope in the mere presence of such a man -- When Our eyes meet it is as two hearts are beating in unison; come, Help me find the words to songs heretofore unsung.
January is over, but I am still going to try to jot poems down and share them on my blog most days. 🙂
I wrote this cherita this morning, thinking about growing older and some of the thoughts I have been having about it. Don’t worry too much about me, though: I used to feel like my life was like walking into an arena every day, but it hasn’t been nearly so intense for about a month, overall. Maybe I’m actually getting better this time.
I am never going to turn 30. But I also thought I'd never be 15, 18, high-school or college graduate So maybe I will turn 30, Waking up on that fateful day -- Maybe something better does await.
Today’s prompt for SoCS / JusJoJan is “out of the box.” Sometimes, the predictive text on my phone furnishes out-of-the-box poetry ideas. Case in point: Today I was texting my friend that I would like to go to Mass with her tomorrow, and my phone predicted “…Mass with the night.” So that’s the title of this poem, which is a cherita.
On Sundays I go to Mass, no matter How I feel: Sometimes I go, with depression Like the night inside of me, soul carrying Much; happiness does not even ensue When I'm sitting in the pew, yet my burden Might be a tiny tiny bit lighter. *(sometimes it's not, and that's okay too)
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.
Even when I have difficulty, or when it’s been a long day, responding to prompts and posting to my blog is a hobby of mine (as you know), so here is a little poem.
Seas
Of trial —
Words are the islands
On which I find safe shelter
Here.
For FOWC: Sea and partially inspired by DVerse’s Habun Monday because I used the idea of “shelter,” but I’m not linking up because this isn’t a haibun.
Here is FFFC: #182. The picture reminded me of my ex and me because we would do jigsaw puzzles in the park together (that’s another of my hobbies — puzzles). Before we were dating, we would use that as an excuse to sit really close to each other or “accidentally” brush our hands together. It was one of those cute but ridiculous things. One puzzle had a bunch of different sharks on it, so that is what this cherita is inspired by.
I thought the pieces fit together, didn't you? A couple dozen sharks with so much ocean between them, Several times we tried to finish the picture We never did finish that thousand-piece puzzle. Now it's too late, for time flows forward. There are plenty of other "sharks" in the sea.
I surprised myself by writing for MLMM’s “Sunday Confessionals: Secrets.” I wasn’t going to because (if you read the prompt) even I have things I don’t want to write about. However, a book I was reading reminded me of this prompt and inspired me to try. This poem, a cherita, is a response to the poem that I wrote in response to the prompt, so it is tangentially related.
I wrote my poem; it took up a whole page. There are some things so sacred I won't Name them, blasting them on my blog. You won't be witness to this catharsis Even I don't know how deep the sea Of double-secrets, but the waves whisper it.
Today’s installment for Flashback Friday. Although I have a vast collection of poems from the past 6 or 8 or more years, I am choosing one that I posted before, exactly 3 years ago. This poem was for FFFC #24 (wow, that was a while ago!) and was called “Atlas.”
An atlas is open, made of paper -- A man points with index fingers Attached to weathered hands: “Here.” I post this from a smartphone — Atlas carries the changing Earth Does that place exist anymore?
I saw a post on Instagram, the other day, along the lines of “Don’t trust the thing that’s trying to kill you.” Don’t trust the eating disorder. Don’t trust , the depression. Whatever. Don’t trust the PMDD or whatever is going on with me this time. But if I can’t trust the very body I live in, then what can I trust. Jesus, of course. “Jesus” is always the answer, isn’t it, my Christian friends? It’s too bad when you don’t particularly like Him these days, but you can’t deny or ignore His existence. Go ahead and give me the “worst Christian” award; I don’t care.
Yesterday was this month’s full moon. Maybe that’s why I am being a LUNAtic! I’m a little obsessed with the names of each month’s full moon. July’s is called the Buck Moon because deer’s antlers are growing at this time (allegedly).
I started a cherita about this earlier and am finishing it now:
I am obsessed with the full moon, Periodically feeling like a total lunatic, Personality eclipsed, it's absolutely Hysterical but not funny at all. It shines Like an unwanted spotlight, and I can't Hide; the moon can't leave the stage either.
So, I wrote this yesterday and wasn’t going to share, but then I just couldn’t handle how much this saint’s day triggered me yesterday (I had a hard time with it last year, too, and this day last year). Thankfully, today’s not as bad as I thought it would be. Yesterday was much worse. Thank God I could go to work and get out of my own head yesterday. A reverse cherita.
I love God and love my Church, and Maria did show a great example of forgiveness, but she bothers me. A lot.
Is safeguarding "purity" so important
That a woman should prefer to be
Dead, rather than a rape victim?
God forgive my impiety I'm
Upset that that's considered saintly.
If Maria forgave Alessandro,* she'd forgive me.
*her attacker
revivedwriter 