Category Archives: Free Write Wednesdays

“Pieces of Me”

This poem is for the brave souls fighting through chronic illness or trauma, and for their caretakers who sacrifice so much through it all.

For Mandalf, who is off on a TOMS giving trip in the Dominican Republic right now: I love you.

“Pieces of Me”

The date was going very well

Ambient lighting overlooking fine fare

With one french press

And two cups to share

The smell of salt was in the air as we sat in that Starbucks on Thanksgiving day

Word association played back and forth like proverbial ping pong volleyed from two pairs of perky lips

Tell me quick, he smiled bright

First word that comes to mind

Pillow, he said

Talk, I said

Rain, he said

Singing in the, I said

Pieces, he said

Reese’s, I said

His eyebrows raised like wigwams

I think I’m going to like you, he decided

Very much

We still play this game

So many years hence

But my answers now reveal my fate

I never could have known back then

Pillow

Sleep

Rain

Tears

Pieces

Me

His fingers intertwine with mine

Wrapping strongly in the toughest weave only trauma can forge

And though this illness has claimed pieces of me

Our hands hold on

Clocking countless catharsis

Knowing even though so much has changed

The laugher less frequent

The light in our eyes dulled like a dimmer switch with each passing year

These pieces we’ve lost will someday reappear

For after all

They are only pieces

And the rest still remains

Waiting to welcome them warmly back home

“Stories”

“Stories” 

Stories

Stories are how we connect

How we remember

The talisman of the human condition

They are what make us cry and feel and aspire

To be the fearless warrior

Or the artist untarnished by ill-begotten gains

Stories make us feel alive

Our hearts beating in tandem

With your story is like mine

And I am not alone

With don’t tell me I can’t

And never tell me the odds

She clutches her story with the strength of a thousand eagles’ talons

Whist she’d gladly wish it gone

Her story isn’t happy

Sometimes hopeless

Always hard

But through this illness

These years of fighting blind

 She knows the reason why

It is because

It isn’t yet over. 

“The Antithesis of Fear”

Happy Halloween, everyone! Sorry I’ve been off the grid for the past week or so. So, I’ve been obsessed lately with exploring the concept of “fear” and how it affects our lives when going through a long-term, chronic illness or trauma… perfect timing for Halloween! Here’s a little humorous beat poetry for you with my latest musings on vanquishing a fear-based life. Enjoy!

The Foda :)

“The Antithesis of Fear”

The antithesis of fear isn’t courage; it’s curiosity.

What we are open to

What we question

What we examine with the child-like zeal

Once only reserved for questions like

Why is the sky blue?

Or

How can ladybugs procreate

If they’re all girls?

(Because.. they are not.)

Which begs the question

What idiot named them “lady”bugs?

But I digress

Telling a person not to fear

When their world is under siege

Is like telling a banana not to curve

(Fruitless) <— hehe!

You cannot abolish emotion

Unless you are a hologram

Who likes to read quasi-poetic rambles

Which is a highly unlikely scenario

But you

(Yes, you)

The human

 Can substitute one emotion with another

Like a metaphysical Yankee Swap

Flipping “I fear”

Into

“I wonder”

For fear is an absolute enigma

Ready to ram you like the Rhino it is

But curiosity is the wind

Always changing

Open ended

And just as strong

The antithesis of fear isn’t courage

It’s curiosity

Get some.

Insomnia Poetry

My Insomnia Poetry

This is what happens when you go a few days without sleep.

 Haiku:

 Garbled zombie speak

Drips like syrup from my lips

Sleep eludes me still

Nursery Rhyme:

 There once was a woman named Foda

Who drove a Toyota Corolla

Insomnia struck like the side of a truck

So she wandered the streets in a toga

#Fail: 

 This is my tired brain.

Sleeping is imperative.

Not sleeping is a pain….

Rhyming is hard.

“We Hunters and Gatherers”

“We Hunters and Gatherers” 

By: The Female Yoda

 We hunters and gatherers

We seekers of all that’s sustaining and warm

Chasers, racers, building defacers

All searching for

Bliss

Because life is hard no matter how smart or rich or tall or if you don’t care at all

‘Cause everyone

Falls

Life’s a rickety ride

And there’s little good done by just trying to hide

At some point, you’ll fall too

And you’ll chase after, race after, embrace something new

We searchers of feelings

We hunters of joy

A life with no joy makes us think up a ploy

A way to find purpose

Or possession

Or love

Just something to fill up the pit where we sit eyes cast longingly above

We hunters and gatherers

We seekers of all that’s sustaining and warm

It’s not food, but a mood and we’ll search every way

And we’ll chase after feelings

Instead of the day

“Angel’s Wings”

For the brave men and women who work to find peace, beauty, and growth through chronic illness. This poem is for you.

~The Foda

Angel’s Wings

 The sky is a milky bath of cerulean haze

Speckled by clouds that spot the sky like dappled elephants

Majestic grace and weightless heft

I lie on my back

Knocked down by happenstance

Cynicism and doubt crawl over me like ladybugs

Unaware of their intrusion

I let the world rock me back into the earth

Tiny prickles of grass crosshatch at my nape

There is no more I can do

I surrender to the liberation

That cannot come from me

So I lie

And breathe

When a bath of white light surrounds me

Filling my core with nothing

And everything

And suddenly I feel it

My ribs open wide

Then close

Fanning gently with the breath

Until the weathered bone transforms into white wings

Feathered and soft

Unfurling majestically from my beaten chest

Helping my injured spirit

Soar up

On angel’s wings

Without ever leaving the earth

Musings from a Wheelchair

 

Musings from a Wheelchair

 I am a stalk

Rootless in space

My stem a sickled streak of circumstance

I have burrowed deep in the muddy waters of pride

And it has kept me

Covered

Now I rise

Rocked forwards on the wheels of

Opportunity

Which is what we call things we don’t want to do

Yet I ride

And rock

And receive

The world as I have not seen it through mud and caustic subterfuge

With the sun on my cheeks

And the wind on my back

 

 

 

 

 

 

“The Worst Question In The World”

Today’s Free Write Poem is dedicated to anyone who’s suffering through a long-term chronic illness, whether as the patient, or as the chronic caregivers who step knowingly out of the realm of normalcy and into the struggle.

The Worst Question in the World

 The worst question in the world

When your world crumbles

Is how are you?

No one ever told me this

How the day might come when I would dread seeing a friendly face

Knowing I have no answer to give

Besides a stammer and a lie or a one-two-three brush off that leaves you sticky and quilled

“I’m fine” is the armor I may choose

To keep their eyes from churning in shades of “what do I say” and “this shouldn’t be”

Of “my life’s hard too” or “I know someone like you”

Of “keep your chin up” and “stay positive”

What did you think I was doing

All this time?

But it’s not their fault

For asking the question

When the answer beguiles

Unsuitably sad

The problem is the corded snake

Tied about my neck

Holding me down and taking my air

Filling my stomach with sluices of juices too bitter to spew

And it’s really not you

It’s the question itself that begets this conflict

Do I lie

Say I’m fine

Make you think I’m okay

Or do I answer I’m broken

I’m in pieces and praying for glue or for God and I’m tired, so tired, and it’s hard to go on

Now the conflicted one is you

You don’t know what to say, what to do, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go

You were just saying hi

And I was supposed to say “fine”

And what are you supposed to say now that I’ve shown you my cards

And the sight makes you

Flush

So I smile and I lie

Say I’m doing just fine

For the problem’s not you or the question or the blues

It’s the scab of my world

And if I pick it off for you

Show you what’s underneath

Will I bleed longer still?

FWW: They Call Me Lazy

Free Write Wednesdays (FWW) 

They Call Me Lazy

 Today’s Words of Wisdom:

 “You will find that it is necessary to let things go; simply for the reason that they are heavy.”

~ C. JoyBell C.

 The Foda’s Take: I love this quote so much that it has inspired my new idea for… drumroll, please… Free Write Wednesdays!

 Howdy, folks! So I’m thinking of starting up something a bit new here, called “Free Write Wednesdays.” While I may not do this every Wednesday, I’ve been using this therapeutic format of writing for years now, although I usually call it “Beat Writing” a la Jack Kerouac. (But Free Write Wednesdays just sounded better- and that’s essentially what Beat Writing is… stream of consciousness with no analyzing, no editing, and usually, no punctuation. But I will use punctuation. Because I think it Makes. A . Point. Ha!)

Anyway, what I plan to do is choose a sentence to start with, and just go from there! What I’m hoping is that those of you who are also struggling with a chronic illness, personal trauma, or otherwise invisible ailment will join me in writing your own free write using the starter sentence I use. It’s amazing how when you let your mind just GO and stop analyzing the “rightness” of your thoughts, how it can bring to the surface so much you never knew was there. (Hence why it can be so therapeutic!) And of course, I would love to hear what you come up with! Just be sure not to judge where your mind goes. Allowing our brains to get in touch with the rawest form of our thoughts can be very powerful, and not always super cheerful- but once it’s said, it’s amazing how sometimes you can release what you never knew you were holding on to.

So let’s get started with our very first Free Write Wednesday! The starter sentence for the day is: “They call me lazy.” 

 They Call Me Lazy

Look at you, girl- all mashed up on the couch like a potato after it’s been beaten down

Shapeless and churned up like a milkshake

Why so pale, they say

Why can’t the Foda come out to play?

You’re young and you look so fine like good wine so let’s go have a good time- after all You look just the same as me

And what do you mean you can’t drive to visit, girl, can’t come to see your old college pal?

I can’t always be the one, you know, this whole “illness” has just got to go, because I’m Tired of being the one who has to work so hard when you don’t even have to work

I envy you, they say

No work, no stress, just stay at home in your jammies all day

How nice must that be, have a break from the fast lane, the always moving train, the Quickly changing game

You get to stand still, they say with a sigh

Or they avoid my eyes when it’s time to say hi

Because what do you say when you don’t understand

That I’d love to be working

Exhausted from earning

Instead of being what I am

Exhausted from breathing, from sitting, from being

But I have to say NO with no proof I can show

No marks on my body, no splints on my legs

My hair is still there, and I’ll smile for you, ma’am

To make you more comfortable with what you don’t understand

I’ll tell you the truth but I’ll couch it with a smile because you’ll get uneasy

If I tell it up straight

So they call me lazy

Or say I just need a nap

But what I need is much more, to know my healing light is in store

Wrapping me up in its beauty like a precious hug

Until my “laziness” is heard of

No more.

 I hope you enjoyed our first Free Write Wednesday! If you have a “They Call Me Lazy” you’d like to share, please either share using the Comment section below this post (if it isn’t there, click on the post title and it will appear at the bottom) or email me at TheFemaleYoda@gmail.com.

Get those creative juices flowing!

Yours,

The Foda

P.S. So I just read what I wrote here and want to say that you TOTALLY don’t have to rhyme when you free write.. apparently that’s just what my weird mind likes to do when I let go of the reins… CRAZY.