Musings of a Mad Woman #1

I'm an author, it is true. I have written 3 novels that I am incredibly proud of with another on the way.  But what the world doesn't see are the litany of notebooks, journals, and random pieces of paper I've regurgitated my thoughts onto over the years.  They press against my skull and chant for my undying attention until I finally release them.  That stream of endless words that rushes from the pits of my soul are more telling of who I really am unlike any novel I could ever write.  As a thank you to all of you who have supported me this past year, I'm going to reveal one of those journal entries, poems, or short stories each week.  It will from now on be titled...Musings of a Mad Woman!  I can't promise you unicorns and rainbows, but I can promise you this: It is me - raw and naked (figuratively speaking of course) - stripped of my defenses and walls that I've constructed over the years.  You've been warned.  Proceed with caution.

Being the first of many posts of this kind, I'm going to give you a journal entry AND a poem!

3.12.2010
Oh, how I wish I could fly across the sky littering the clouds with all that I long to release.  But I refrain.  Struggling to keep my angst wrapped up tightly in a velvety square box tied with a suffocating bow and ribbon.  For fear of rocking this big rickety boat so big and pregnant, refusing to catch the tide.  With one menacing storm it would CRACK and be lost to the ocean forever.  Oh, how great that loud, booming, sound would feel to my tired soul!!  Setting it free!  But, it is not my weighted vessel to sink – I must stand back and wait for the bottom to drop out.  My always hopeful, forgiving soulmate will continue to rock it ever so slightly, just enough to stay afloat.  Only to make things unbalanced and lopsided.  Causing men, trinkets, and maps to slide all over the rusted old boards.  A splinter here, a splinter there.  Hmm…those tiny slivers of bark are the ultimate silent stalker.  Shooting pain with every movement…but hide so easily!  Could that be better than my big catastrophe with boards and anchor flying?  A soft tearing of nails and wood, giving way to a slow and painful journey down to the abyss?  Oh I think so!  How clever my love is!  For years of backstabbing words and hidden lies – a long, slow descent to a final goodbye

Some of you may have already read this in my 'Pieces of Me' tab, but I wanted to share again:

Harbor

Brittle breaks of beautiful bounty

Taking its toll on the tiny triumph

Chasms collide as cold winds cover

Below the brunt of bitter battle

Folk and fiction are forgotten forever

Laughing lightly at the life she loves

Sings to his soul, softens his cries

Once the whirlwind wanes of war

And cries of casualties, cast the cure

Her baby bursts of blissful bloom

Sacred he stirs, safe in her womb