Tag Archives: Poem

Sunset Reflections

Written on the gold-speckled beaches of Coronado, San Diego
Written on the gold-speckled beaches of Coronado, San Diego

The softest sand I’ve ever felt nips between my toes

Like the downy stroke of a newborn calf

Nostrils open onto untold worlds: Salty and filled with coconut tears

I lift my soul to the sea, allowing it to thrush through my veins

Leaving markers behind, as soft whispers tend to do

I am Aphrodite with gossamer wings: Fragile but beautiful

With power burnt deep into hollow bones

Move me with your persistent trick

Your silent cry for timeless mercy

Take my hollow bones and make them your temple

So they may be fragile and weak

No more.

Nature, I Reclaim You

“Nature, I Reclaim You”

Nature. I reclaim you.

I reclaim your sweet smelling grasses, your sappy stalks.

I reclaim your golden, radiant warmth, and cool, refreshing breath.

I reclaim the musky scent of earth beneath my feet, the balm of your salty oceans.

I reclaim it all, all your majesty, majesty I have quaked from in fear of one life-altering parasite, the one that stole my health without so much as a thank you, and left me bereft in the dark.

Too long have I let fear keep me from your life-giving beauty.

Too long have I denied myself the restorative serenity of your face.

Today, I reclaim this right.

I will be incarcerated no more.

I will feel your life on my face.

I will let your breezes fan my skin.

I will imbibe the ancient and breathtaking beauty that is you.

Nature. I reclaim you.

…..Bug spray. You’ll come too.

“The Face in the Mirror”

Hi, everyone! I’m back! I had a rough several weeks there, and my writing took a hit. Brain fog, am I right? (All my fellow Lymies just nodded in sage solidarity.) I did, however, manage to write this poem on a dusky April night a couple weeks back, and am finally ready to share it. It’s not a lighthearted warm and fuzzy read, but it’s real. I’ve since alighted to a better place, but I felt this was important to share.

Cheers, The Foda

“The Face in the Mirror”

I’m combusting, she said.

Like cellophane squeezed over too much bread.

I’m bursting with nothing but skin to contain me within.

These emotions

Beholden to anyone living and learning while tucked in a body that

Screams in the silence.

Each cell like a prison,

For my cells are violence incarnate.

Cells selling me out so they erect

a cell wall;

Make it tall

so the coup is complete, yet I can’t claim defeat.

Oh, to replete.

To replenish.

My stores are empty;

I’ve used all my wares,

and I’ve still so far to go,

she sighed with a far-away stare.

You’d think, she remarked, I’d get better with coping.

With overriding this ornery statue of limitations on hoping.

My world is a pinwheel;

It spins in shades of blue

and what more can I do

and will I ever be normal like you?

So give me your prayers, she asked quite plain,

and I’ll show you my heart.

It’s brittle and beaten,

But just like a gem, you won’t know its strength until it’s been

Dropped.

Do you see me now, she asked, and I nodded with her in perfect align.

And our eyes filled with dreams

long spilled

and sorted to grace a shelf of some other time.

The face in the mirror.

The face that is mine.

“Upon the Eve”

Merry Christmas to everyone whose greatest wish is to find health in a box under your Christmas tree. This one’s for you!

 “Upon the Eve” 

Picture it

It’s Christmas day

Laughter spills into the air like milk you don’t want to wipe up

Pooling in your soul ‘til the barometer reads full up

Twinkle-dee and puddings plum in your eyes and in your tum

Garlands? Check. Presents? Duh.

That little bowl of green and red M&Ms winking at you from a-top the ivory Spode tablecloth

Silly cookie names that make your inner child giggle although you’d never admit it

Case and point: Australian nut balls

Hee hee

(No judging)

And yet tonight, upon the eve

Your thoughts may string together like christmas lights

Wondering: how will I make it through the day

On a day of holiday cheer

On a day I must appear

Happy

Normal

Healthy

Content

When the other 364 days of the year

I am

Not.

I wonder this on Christmas eve

Curled up in my plaid pajamas

Worry congeals my harried thoughts like day old macaroni and cheese

Making my blood hum an out-of-tune sonata

Then he enters

(No, not Santa)

Rubbing sleep from his eyes in squeegee motions

Come to bed, he says, his hair sticking up like the grass on my second grade classes’s chia pet

And just like that

I get it

The big slap in the face

It’s not about health or gifts or wreaths or pudding I can’t eat or chores I can’t do

It’s not about whether I’m tired or how hard it is to climb the stairs to my sister’s house

It’s about just one thing

The only thing, when all is said and done, that really matters at all

Love.

 

“The Iron Wind”

“The Iron Wind”

I looked out on the frosted moor

My mind did wander, took a tour

It sent me back to days gone by

When dream I did, and need but try

Yet youth was wasted ‘fore my time

My course was jackknifed on a dime

And now I must ply dreams with fate

My choice accommodate or wait

My shell won’t go my throat won’t sing

I know not what each day may bring

Yet as I traversed through these woes

A steely iron wind doth blow

It blanketed the earth below

And shoved me where I dare not go

Into the icy wilderness

Where sharpened blades my feet do kiss

I stand in place, my breath is smoke

I’m all alone, my spirit broke

And yet the iron wind does blow

And shows me where I dare not go

Where every step the ice impales

And every breath drags in like nails

But still I stand and pray to grow

My arms outstretched, my cheeks a-glow

And through a cloud a ray of sun

Spotlights my life and tells me run

Run even if your legs cannot

Dance in your heart and with each thought

For one day you’ll be here again

Your body matching what’s within

You’ll look out on the frosted moor

And thank God for what came before

This time is rare, the journey long

But it will serve to make you strong

And then the light it did retreat

Yet in my soul was born a heat

To live where iron winds doth blow

To go where others dare not go

And so I walked in stocking feet

And thanked the icy blades as sweet

For courage coined must come through fear

And roses grow where thorns appear

“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.

“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