your music sings my soul

your words go to my head
intoxicate me with their
flourishing scents

you are my hopeful sunrise
you are my wistful yesterday
you spur me on to new heights
you lead me back to quiet valleys

your music sings my soul
oh, dear poet friends, i love you all!


--bruised orange

at times we beat as one (has anyone noticed?)

melancholy hearts
harmonize their tunes
beat as one in their
longing for love's
uniting embrace


--bruised orange

music, ladder for my soul

i just love music, don't you?


music, you push and pull me
i blow wherever your wind sends me
oh ladder for my soul, your
notes send me high, or cast me low
i blow where ever your wind sends me
yet
my roots are deep, no tumbleweed am i
you, music, send me traveling the stars
while my toes sink deep into the mud,
where the earth flowers blossom
and waft their potent scent of heaven

secrets of the universe are folded within
you, music, ladder for my soul


--bruised orange

Melancholy Mondays

Melancholy Mondays
always leave me breathless
and longing

like a sad friend come to visit
to share a cup of grief with me

and i, with my breaking heart
welcome the feeling of lonely arms
entwined in a wistful embrace

too much to share,
i sigh into my teacup
my tea sighs back at me

leaving my vision foggy
and my face flushed


--bruised orange

paper heart

reams of paper at my feet
words i write, my desolation

my coward's heart locks inside
the words i long to sing

my pen is stilled, my heart explodes
my words tumble to the ground

the evidence, on clear display
in reams of paper at my feet


--bruised orange

not mine to know

i have planted my words
in the soil of your heart
my tears have showered
the land at my feet
my hands have pulled
the weeds in the furrows

now i must trust in
the mercy of the sun

what bounty will come
is not mine to know
time is not mine
to complete


--bruised orange

when he stole words

Gaslighting is only one of the many tricks in the psychopath's bag of brainwashing magic. The quiet dissolution of the mind that occurs over time as a result of this sort of deception, is what i write about here. I was voiceless for so many years. Towards the end, I had nothing left to say, to anyone. I was, after all, unable to trust my own mind, and obviously could not even trust my own thoughts, let alone my own words. I had no idea how close he came to bringing about my extinction. You can read a little about gaslighting here: http://victimsofpsychopaths.wordpress.com/2009/01/27/gas-lighting-messin-with-your-mind/


when he stole words

when he took words from me and stole my voice
i had given up the notion of having any choice

my life became a muted scene
i lived each day in a nightmarish dream

when he stole my words from me

reaching down into my throat
he pulled them, one by one by force

and words lay in a puddle on my floor

i left them there, not knowing how to get them back
one day he simply swept them away, they tumbled into a dark crack

now that he is gone, i've pulled them out, washed them off,
i arrange them on a page. but some words, i've noticed, have gone missing.

i wonder did they blow away in the wind? never to be found again?
or are they broken in the dust, waiting for me to find them, to mend them with my hand

or perhaps they are smashed beyond repair, and i will have to live my life as such
never being able to say all that i feel, never able to say the words that can mean so much


--bruised orange

a love revisited

when once i saw his dear sweet face
and memories came to be retraced

my heart it pounded loud to hear
the rushing blood within my ear

funny how a memory can play
and bring you fast to yesterday

time unfolded inside my heart
and brought me right back to the start

when love was fresh and full of dreams
that time we danced upon moonbeams

we spoke of futures brave and bold
and never pondered growing old

now here i see him once again
my face is lined, his hair's gone thin

minds entwined in love's embrace
where memories came to be retraced

time thus refolded into my heart
what eyes of wisdom do best impart


--bruised orange

trembling, poises this blossom fair

she's poised to flourish, poised for ignition, poised to be poised with good intention. she's poised on the fence, at the starting gate, quick she comes, but finishes late.



this rose she trembles, shy to bloom
yet longs to share her sweet perfume

of spring this blossom is now consumed
how suddenly hope has been exhumed

by force of nature too strong to stay
faltering, leaves have begun to sway

intentions to keep tight in bud
cannot prevent the rays that flood

trembling, poises this blossom fair
quick comes the bursting forth with flare


--bruised orange

burn away, burn away, burn away now

of pain and suffering many have written
of those fiery tests we've sung forlorn
this, my hymn of how i've been measured
here is my song, of experience born


plucked from the heap with sense of dread
from murky darkness how long obscured
not knowing the glory which lies ahead
we balk at the process to be endured

impurities burned away by flame
the kiss of fire does smelt us
dross once skimmed, reveals the claim
a fine treasure, with beauty ageless

though kiss of fire will burn intense
in hands of master metallurgist
how malleable we become at his bench
fine works of art, fashioned purest

now aglow with joy and praise
no longer are we bemired
singing this hearth song from hearts ablaze
with gratitude we'll next leap to the fire


i welcome the kiss, brought once more to my brow
and embrace this pain, my fashioner's distill
burn away burn away burn away now
create of me what you will


--bruised orange

someday maybe i'll get it right

swirling thoughts
inside my head
lead me ever
inward
but
love is
something
that needs
always to be
flowing outward


--bruised orange

solitary business

i'm growing weary of sitting in this room
loneliness, a sad flower, has begun to bloom

next week i'm making plans to step out for a while
see some old friends, always good for a smile

fire's been ignited, i feel its slow burn
my pen not enough to supply what i yearn

i need some sharp wit, some healthy rapport
there's a garden's delight, just outside my door

a project for two, or three, maybe four
writing poetry is a solitary business for sure.


--bruised orange

musings of the poet's pen

oh muse!

your true light thus, to me, imparts
by scattered moon dust upon my heart
commences your aery lyre's string
now from you flows the magical springs

i quaff your mystical wine, and sing


--bruised orange

last remains

yesterday i gave away
the last hoard that had
been my husband's

he had left it here
after his final storm
(in his rage it had been forgotten)

i had stored it this long
having too much guilt
(or fear?) to pass it to another

but yesterday i gave it away
it now belongs to some other

i can't believe how much
lighter i feel, to have
finally done this deed

no longer will i bear the name
Storehouse for his Debris

--bruised orange

delicious diversity of thought

if we were master of our thoughts
how boring our writes would be
we would soon grow weary
of our minds' complacency

but as it is the vortex swirls
and we dip in and draw
a smidgen of this a smattering of that
flavors for one and all

the complexities of diversity
in each of us brings awe
a swirling universe inside our heads
from which we all can draw


--bruised orange

temptation's guile

the box poses on my table
so patient in its guise
allures its extent to baffle
and prove me thus unwise

to draw me closer it will bait
and lure by fine sweet sounds
perplexity my new bed mate
mischief that knows no bounds

i lie in this bed and ponder
choice is mine, is it not?
what gifts inside i do wonder
temptation's guile my lot

gilded and exquisitely wrought
intricacy unparalleled
my prolonged resistance for naught
my hand thus adroitly compelled


--bruised orange

rays reflected

noble soul with eyes downcast
digs in dirt for his repast
seeks he there but does not find
nourishment to ease his mind

noble soul in dross obscured
tarnish he has long inured
mirror must be cleaned to shine,
reflect the rays of love divine


--bruised orange

20/20 vision

What would happen if we tore them down
All the walls that keep us apart
What would happen if we threw them to ground
those masks that hide our true heart

Would it not be in our interest if we forgot the tales,
what our fathers told us about the 'other'
and looked for ourselves, with bright new eyes
upon the faces, into the hearts, of one another.

Would we not find there something good and kind?
Could we not discover we have a like mind?
If we look around we just may find
that cord encircling, those ties that bind

Will you see the beauty of this fine garden?
Do you feel the strength of these branches strong?
Can you sense the waves of our connection?
Do you hear the notes of this new song?

open bright new eyes and see

we are made for one another

we are family

--bruised orange

lessons learned by some 9/11

from ashes spring unity
brotherhood of man

dark tale of woe
across our great land

from rubble comes hope
courage witnessed firsthand

of man's love resplendent
for his family, this firm stand

up from fire we grow
and see no reprimand

lessons learned by some 9/11
all members of this band


--bruised orange

tipping point smile

a bit of a soapbox moment. nationalism, prejudice and racism lead us nowhere, and a better future begins with just one heart, with one smile


in times like these its nice to remember
goodness is inherent in every heart

and even those who you see as lost
have their own truth, true enough

the problem with typing the bad guy
based on skin color or creed
is that (among other things) it only
serves to feed

the suspicion so easily found
lurking on street corners
all around town

so when you see a friendly face today
shake their hand and smile back!
it matters not if they share your
world view,
or whatever it is you think they lack

or if their words sound strange to your ear.
(it's so sad to see people living with this fear!)

what matters is that you have given away
something of yourself that is true.

who knows what kinds of ripples
you'll start with just one smile today?

you could end a war!
you could give someone hope!
you could set the world on fire with love!

the little part you play in this world
make it count,
bring it straight from the heart

who knows what kinds of ripples
you'll start with just one smile today?

--bruised orange

an invitation

my friend Amalia and i were talking the other day, and she said, 'we are the black pit alumni' i replied, 'there is a poem there!' we each wrote a version. this is mine, hers can be seen at her blog, Amalia on purpose, which is linked in my 'blogs i follow' sidebar.

we are the black pit alumni
we, who have laid long
in the depths of despair

we are the black pit alumni
our members, world wide
and diverse

we are the black pit alumni,
standing arm and arm,
we've weathered the fire storm

we've crawled up from the depths
of that dark pit

that dark pit,
where we cried out in anguish,
felt the sting and bite of
the cold winds of separation

that dark pit,
into which we fell unwittingly
tumbled down, we lay broken,
and felt our aloneness

on that park bench in darkness where we wept,
in that bottle of liquid amnesia where we tried to forget,
from our rooms of seclusion where dark fears were met

that fire of separation, how it burned!
this, our initiation, our price of
admission

we cried out from our black pits
and heard that gentle Voice,
felt the tender ministrations
of our hearts

His succoring grace and mercy
sheltered and enfolded us with such
close attention and compassion
we were moved to look up, to gaze out

and found the hands
of earthly angels stretched out to us,
those servants of Glory,

those alumni from the black pit,
dressed in robes of humility and service,
such finely stitched garments,
each a different hue and shade
yet all of a cloth, the same


we invite you today.
take this hand outstretched,
take this robe custom made,
and join us

--bruised orange

in which bo ventures to wear a smile

in which bo ventures to wear a smile



little bo reposed in solemn slumber upon her jasmine bench.
stray words batted about her mind.
she swatted them away
--pesky bugs!

her irritation grew as the words screamed silence into her ear.
clamoring in the stillness,
her cracked vessel had sprung a leak.
--pesky words

those ambrosia scents of jasmine bench
aroused her from her slumber.
she stretched and yawned.

mysterious music, this scent of words
clinging to her pores
dripping as nectar
from her mouth

majestic ministrations
from fairies upon moss
angels from ether, bearing
gifts of words, which
softly soothes her sighing
and succors her heart

acceptance, long forgotten
becomes remembered.

now leaping, now prancing
from her mouth, dance her words.

her smile, a triumphant afterthought

--bruised orange

Dreams (an acrostic suffused with sibilance)

Dangling sweet ambrosia scents
Repose upon the jasmine bench
Easing sorrowful soughs
Amidst lamented long slipped
Melancholy memories singing
Suserant soliloquies in stillness

--bruised orange

which dreams, these?

what dreams lurk here?
i do not know. my night
in stillness reposes,
the only peace i find.

my pen has tried to
reflect, draw forth.
in abjection, i refuse.

reveal! reveal! my pen
cried out.
i covered her mouth.

stuffed that little piece,
lost it (i tried to lose it)
amongst the many
papers crumpled
at my feet.

the ones i say are
trash, or incomplete,
the ones i do not share

what dreams are here?
how could i know?
covered over,
in the foggy mist
that is my mind

my life on hold
my life on hold
so many years
my life on hold.

i've barely just begun,
like some toddling babe
gazing out into the wide
world.

eyes peeled open,
in awe, in fear.

i need to hide
beneath my mother's
skirts.

its all too much
all too much

t'would be nice to have a dream,
to look forward to,
to wake me from

daytime
night
terrors

to wake me
from this

s
c
r
e
a
m

oh dream,
i will struggle
you out!

i will squeeze
you up and
spew you
forth!

this disconnect,
my silent scream.

what dreams may come?
i shall know soon
enough.

i tremble
at the reveal

--bruised orange

in silence

sitting in darkness,
eyes burn hot red
sleep would be the
prudent thing.

but here is where it breaks down,
in silence speaks the pen
whatever lost harbouring dreams
are real in your heart
reveal! reveal!

--bruised orange

a peek through my window

a peek inside my brain
reveals the mess i have become
the ups and downs, mysterious highs,
the crashing diving downs

sometimes i think i may be crazy,
i may have lost my mind
but remember somewhere that those
insane, never ask questions of this kind

so perhaps i am not crazy,
but i surely am a mess.
i start each day and end each day
and barely even get dressed.

i drink coffee for my breakfast
and coffee for dinner too
sometime round about midnight,
i may think of something to chew

my car it sits in disrepair
i haven't the energy to fix
i use a shiny rental car
when i dare go out to mix.

which i don't do much at all these days
my walls, a self imposed prison
i warble away like some caged bird
of my own dismayed invention

you see i get these panic attacks
they come from out of nowhere
whenever i set foot outside
or receive a man's attention

i'm doing my best to just survive
this imprisonment of my soul
i struggle each day to be grounded
fearing i may well explode.

i thought i'd share this bit of me
and my struggle to overcome
a 25 year sentence with a psychopath
has left me well undone.

i thought i'd share this bit of me
whatever i can do to prevent
another soul walking this road
from hell, another sad lament

i've just been handed down
another sentence,
will he never let me be?
my diagnosis now, it reads:
complex-PTSD.

--bruised orange

if you would like more information on c-ptsd, this is a good starting point http://outofthefog.net/Disorders/CPTSD.html

noble tree sublime

to my daughter holding it all together while i quietly fall apart. how true and straight she grows!



sweet sheltering one,
you bear so much, 'tis true.

your quiet love,
brilliant morning sun,
when my feet will not
carry me through

you've borne the brunt
of so much hurt, my
tender, loving one
the observer, the recorder
of too much cruelty done

sweet sheltering one,
your roots run deep
your canopy cools us all

though your hardened bark
defends the axeman
that strikes for your core,

i see that heartwood
fine, beneath your
toughened exterior

you've grown so fine
and true and tall, a
miracle, yes, you are

my heart overflows,
humble gratitude,
for the mercy shown
us all.

you sturdy, sheltering,
majestic one

o noble tree sublime!

--bruised orange

element

this fire, this fire
how it burns!

too close i brought my hand;
i've backed into the burner
now, without a thought or plan.

rages, rages, now consumes,
this blazing fire, how it looms!

burned up my curtains,
the veil's been rent
my joy, it seems,
has all been spent

smoke it chokes
and stings my eyes
this fire,
my searing
reprise

--bruised orange

overcome

fire blazes all around me.
i sit,
waiting to be consumed.

my deeds few in number,
as i
simply sit and ponder.

inaction drives the heart
to madness, and beautiful
words, do not a life make.

--bruised orange

towards a greater understanding

please understand me;

i draw inspiration from the air
the words are there for all of us
to grab, to hear, to share

please understand me;

your words inspire me each day
fly into my heart, carry me away
they bring me to a place new
please listen when i say

please understand me;

greater confirmations are at work
you, the instrument unknowing
returns me to the source

that rippling effect,
that divine connection,

words,
their source,
all of us.

please understand me.

--bruised orange

words in ink

i love your voice.

your words sing
my heart

they fly up,
connect with my soul

you are the ink
to my pen

--bruised orange

the bard's gift

the bard's gift

the reticent bard sits,
strung on a fence.

his fear of leaping
one side or t'other
has given him a sore bum;
he's sat there for years.

his songs, sung to the birds
of the field, fly softly through
the air.

and not a one hears him
and not a one cares,
the reticent bard reflects

his contemplation lost
to an audience unhearing

the birds of the field,
hearing his sighs,
wing their flight
to places unknown.

our dear bard,
in solitude laments
his yearning

the reticent bard has forgotten
the majestic ministration of words.

that mysterious music
which sings into the air,
and returns magic,
far and near.

--bruised orange

euphony on a moonlit night

euphony on a moonlit night



slow slips his sighing.

she succors his heart,
her shades of seduction,
his harmonious hearing

her hushed sonata
sighs softly in stillness

quiet quintessence,
he yearns her
melodious marvels

moonlight makes for
merry mischief,
consorted in concert.

quickly comes the crescendo
of their close cadence

luminescence laments
their languid leaving

melancholy moon
shares hushed solitude
in silence, so sweet

--bruised orange

clamors the silence

insane is the night, this
silence lynches my heart
with each murmuring breath.

silence, you are my scourge.
your susurrations, my torment,
this unyielding drum song
inside my skull

pound and pound some more
as i strike the keys,
composing maddening music
which haunts me even in sleep

i will strike it out,
this pounding
in my head,

i will strike it out,
this pounding
in my heart,

strike it out,
with these keys,

with this pen,
i will strike you out.

--bruised orange

parallels

my number's been compromised,
i've cancelled my card.
today i will go in and
dispute the charges.

i've been compromised again,
my identity taken once more

this time around, though
i've reclaimed myself
within a day.


--bruised orange

exquisite design

this finely wrought tapestry,
so intricately woven by delicate fingers,
has borne the rains of neglect and mistreat

yet, crafted of fiber so strong,
from noble thread and precious metal,
well preserved under that sheltering tree

needing now only a good shake
and brush to knock off the dust.

once restored to that splendor
to which its designer had an eye,

it will please many with its delicate tale,
and bring comfort on any chilled night.

it will hang well
upon this castle
wall.

--bruised orange