Posted in Poetry

Wasted Energy

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Wasted Energy.
LC. © 2017

Depression is a
dark cloud over my head, lurking.
Like I created
my own personal
monsoon. If only I had
energy to blast
the rain from capturing my
soul- a rainbow would
appear in the sky.

Posted in Poetry

Out of the Shadows

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Out of the Shadows.

Lynne Cole. © 2016

I’m tired of living my life–
in these dark shadows you cast.
I’m not the person you wish I’d be.
You hold on ever so tightly to the past.
I’m forever and with no regrets me.

You wallow in self-pity–
bathing in layers of disdain.
Ideals you’ve become a slave to.
Your family unit you try so hard to contain.
Keeping secrets that threaten to break you.

Your actions towards others–
like you don’t even care.
This isn’t how families act.
Feeling attacked. Not fighting fair.
Walking on shards of glass.

No longer will I walk around cutting my feet.
Getting to know me is a two-way street.
I am your daughter only through DNA–
In no way are we the same.

I’m not going to live my life in your shadow–
the past is gone, and tomorrow is new.
Be proactive, not hollow–
Only talking can heal the wounds of the past like glue.

Posted in Poetry

The Raven– Edgar Allan Poe

The Raven – Poem by Edgar Allan Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
”Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, ‘tapping at my chamber door-
Only this, and nothing more.’

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;- vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow- sorrow for the lost Lenore-
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
”Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is, and nothing more.’

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
‘Sir,’ said I, ‘or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you’- here I opened wide the door;-
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering,
fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, ‘Lenore!’
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, ‘Lenore!’-
Merely this, and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
‘Surely,’ said I, ‘surely that is something at my window lattice:
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore-
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;-
‘Tis the wind and nothing more.’

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and
flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed
he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door-
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door-
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.
‘Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, ‘art sure no
craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’
Quoth the Raven, ‘Nevermore.’

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door-
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as ‘Nevermore.’

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered- not a feather then he fluttered-
Till I scarcely more than muttered, ‘other friends have flown
before-
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.’
Then the bird said, ‘Nevermore.’

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
‘Doubtless,’ said I, ‘what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore-
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never- nevermore’.’

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and
door;
Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore-
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking ‘Nevermore.’

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o’er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor.
‘Wretch,’ I cried, ‘thy God hath lent thee- by these angels he
hath sent thee
Respite- respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!’
Quoth the Raven, ‘Nevermore.’

‘Prophet!’ said I, ‘thing of evil!- prophet still, if bird or
devil!-
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted-
On this home by horror haunted- tell me truly, I implore-
Is there- is there balm in Gilead?- tell me- tell me, I implore!’
Quoth the Raven, ‘Nevermore.’

‘Prophet!’ said I, ‘thing of evil- prophet still, if bird or
devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us- by that God we both adore-
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore-
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.’
Quoth the Raven, ‘Nevermore.’

‘Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend,’ I shrieked,
upstarting-
‘Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!- quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my
door!’
Quoth the Raven, ‘Nevermore.’

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the
floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore!

Posted in Poetry

Come Back

Come back.

©2016 LC

I look at you daddy,

and I see so much pain.

A man split in two.

Maybe never to be whole again?

Looking at you daddy–

I realize you look a lot like me.

I can see the pain in your eyes.

Yet so much is hidden that I don’t see.

I look at you– my father–

and the pain consuming your face.

I hope it wasn’t ever caused by me

Because I didn’t grow up at your place.

I look at your hands–

so much bigger than mine.

But the hurt, the pain, in your eyes–

has been there for quite some time.

I look at you– my dad,

and I realize I don’t really know you– at all.

Except we like to occasionally listen to the same tunes.

You and mom gave me up when I was so small.

Looking at you daddy,

is like seeing a wraith– a ghost.

When are you coming back to us?

Your family needs you the most.

Posted in Poetry

Flirting with Death

Flirting with Death.
©LC 2016

He hides behind the lies,
Depression feeds into his mind.
“Feel sorry for me,” he says with his eyes.
While inside his soul withers and dies.

The darkness his uncontrollable obsession–
though the demons he cannot face.
He has become their prized possession.
As he considers his last confession.

He wants to go in as-much he wants to stay.
Haunted by ghosts of yesterday.
Regrets crush his chest with every breath.
As he flirts with idea of death.

In honor of Mental Health Awareness Month.

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Posted in Blogging

And it is the Weekend!

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It has been a difficult week for writing. I couldn’t be happier to greet a Friday morning. I was a surge of energy as I completed my morning routine, grabbed some coffee, my comfy clothes, and sat down to write!

All I wanted to do all week! Didn’t have time. Bummer!

I have been making an extreme effort to keep things going. I planned out a schedule, and thought of other ideas a couple of nights ago. Things I might add in the future. I think it’s trial and error. Learning what works, and what doesn’t.

My mind is split in so many directions this week. Three out of five days I  had appointments. Certain issues to deal with for the children. Bills to pay. Oh, and a new medication to try. Side effects are lovely. Not! 

Let me just say briefly taking Cymbalta for joint pain was not a good experience. I felt wired. Not in a good way. I felt all kinds of weird things. Extremely happy. Then, sad. I couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t sleep.

If I woke up in the night, then tried to resume sleeping I couldn’t. My husband the lumberjack was a chainsaw cutting logs– the snoring kept me up. 

When I can’t sleep, I can’t think to write very well.

My son is having issues at school. He promised he would do better. Even with modifications at home, he isn’t. We are attending counseling. Still not breaking through. It is breaking my heart. 

He tells my mother on me. It is like she is going to save him. Tell me I am unfair and he should have video games all the time. They aren’t good for him. How do I know who he is talking to on there?  I don’t.

So he won’t have free rein. I know what he is doing, and when.

We had a conversation last night about his circle of friends. I think they are a bad influence. Maybe not all of them. However, since hanging out with some of them he is losing interest in things once important to him.

For instance: He LOVED taking a yearly trip with the band for their competition. This year, he had NO interest in going. It was almost like he did poorly in class so he didn’t go. Slacked off.

This bothers me because he is smart. He didn’t do this the first two semesters. He loves band. He is an EXCELLENT drummer. Gets along so well with his band director. Didn’t even bother to tell him we weren’t going on this trip. I don’t know why.

Another instance: Out of the blue yesterday, he says he doesn’t want to be a video game designer/developer. This has been his life long dream since I can remember. He went to school bragging about it. How he was going to be so good at it. He knew he had to work hard, and he didn’t care. He had the grades to do it. He only had to work at Math.

I told him I would support him no matter what he wanted to do. I believe, as a parent, it is what we have to do. Be supportive. Though he doesn’t even know what that IS now. I don’t know what would cause him to give up his dream?

So last night, I told him he needed to evaluate the people closest to him. Maybe they are jealous of him because he does so well, and they are trying to drag him down? Friends can be fake behind your back? It can be rare to find a genuine friend. (In my experiences.)

One of his friends wasn’t taking gym. So he decided he wasn’t going to either. This was affecting his gym grade dramatically. They will fail him– eventually. He would “accidentally” forget his clothes. We spoke to him about his lack of effort, and how it is lazy not to change. Gym is an easy grade.

Last night, he told me he “at least his friend was changing for gym” because he helped him. I chuckled. Still not sinking in– I said,” Yeah, you may be helping him, but he isn’t helping you! You are still sinking!” 

His answer to everything– “Yeah, I’m gonna fix that!”

You shouldn’t lose yourself in a friendship. You need to be yourself, too. Not who your friends are. He doesn’t understand that.

He doesn’t understand while his grades are plummeting, and he isn’t putting in the effort that they are affecting who he is becoming. He is letting them.

He isn’t understanding the natural progression of school. It’s going to get harder and faster, and he isn’t prepared. He needs to separate himself from these people. He needs organization, but he’s lazy.

He thinks it is okay to act like a 20-something year-old stoner, who sits around all day playing video games, and has no other care in the world. I don’t know how he is going to learn how to establish healthy relationships if we can’t pry him away from the virtual world.

Which his doctor and therapist agree is okay in limited forms. It helps his depression. Depression from middle-school because it is awful there.

This week, he told me he has a sixteen dollar tab because mysteriously his lunch keeps getting taken. He doesn’t know by whom. I called his father asking if he would call the school. But at this point, we aren’t sure if he is making an excuse to eat at school.

We told him to be more alert when he is eating so when we call the school we have a name. How can we call if we don’t have a name? If he is talking and not paying attention, he needs to pay more attention to his lunch, and eating.

He agrees to stuff, but then he complains about it later. So typical.  

I am so glad my daughter isn’t a teenager, yet.

So yeah, that is this week in a nutshell. I made it! 

Hopefully this weekend is a nice relaxing one. With some time to write, and plan.

Wishing everyone a wonderful weekend!

Lynne

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Music

Ah Ha! Good Tune!

I have been trying to find this song for weeks! Today it comes on!

I think it’s a good song! Give it a listen! See what you think?

The Tallest Man on Earth- The Dreamer

I’m just a dreamer but I’m hanging on
Though I am nothing big to offer
I watch the birds, how they dive in then gone
It’s like nothing in this world’s ever still

And I’m just a shadow of your thoughts in me
But sun is setting, shadows growing
A long cast figure will turn into night
It’s like nothing in this world ever sleeps

Oh sometimes the blues is just a passing bird
And why can’t that always be
Tossing aside from your birches crown
Just enough dark to see
How you’re the light over me

 

Posted in Loss, Poetry

Hidden Behind Your Smile.

Hidden Behind Your Smile.

©2016 LC

Your pretty smiles–  so deceiving,

like how could we possibly you were in pain?

Such a beautiful person from the outside,

yet struggled so much in vain.

You were a great friend,

always there in a time of need.

Dealing with so much at home,

you only wanted freed.

You were so happy,

Your laugh– an enchantment to young men.

Until you had to go home,

and deal with it all over again.

I remember that day in my yard,

the song blasting on the stereo.

The words we sang–

You did not want to go.

Shortly after, you joined the wrong crowd.

Started acting like an imbecile!!

Before I knew it you shipped to California

To live with your dad, typical.

No goodbyes were said–

short notice, you’d be back after your stint.

Only then we got bad news,

and we knew that you wouldn’t..

Why did you take all the Tylenol?

Weeks before you turned 16?

Didn’t you think about your family and friends?

Come on ‘Chelle that was mean.

I miss you more than ever.

You were such a beautiful soul.

I don’t understand why you did it.

I will never understand your goal.

Memories will always remain–

in my heart where you belong.

You’re a song that stays with me forever

and carries over into the great beyond.

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Blogging, Letters

A Letter to My Parents.

When I was younger, I grew up away from my parents. My grandmother raised me. I reflect on it, a lot. This letter is what I would say to them if I thought it would make things better.

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Dear Mom and Dad,

I understand our situation is unique. It is not everyday your toddler goes to live with her grandmother. I can’t imagine it was an easy decision for either of you to make. Nor did one of you make it alone. I don’t know the circumstances surrounding  your decision. However, as a parent myself I find myself trying to put myself in your shoes, and how you must feel. Even now.

When I was younger, a certain amount of curiosity arose within me about you and my brothers. I wanted to know you. What you were like. It wasn’t that I was unhappy at home. It was because you are my family. I was proud of my family!

I told everyone at school, “I have two moms and two dads.” They thought I was weird. But I was special. No one had two moms and dads then. So it made me different. I was an outcast, but I didn’t care.

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I wanted to spend time with you. Mom made the best pancakes. I didn’t care if we couldn’t always go places, or do things. I had a good time. But I often had to ask Mom. Who said,”No.”

I realize now as a mother why she said, “No.” It wasn’t because she didn’t want to see me. Or that the boys and I fought. It was because she would want me to stay. She knew she couldn’t keep me. The mornings she didn’t see me off she was upset in her room.

I can’t imagine how hard it would have been to have a daughter you never see. That you couldn’t or didn’t keep. Having a part of your family not with you hurts.

Seeing her grow. Her accomplishments. Being proud of her. But not a part of her life, fully. I can’t fathom that because I am a mother now.  I wouldn’t dream of parting with my daughter, and watching her like some bystander.

As a teenager, I lived with you for a while to satisfy my curious streak. I can’t imagine how grandma felt. But I was spoiled, I admit it. And at that point, you seemed to favor the boys figuring grandma spoiled me. So I left saying things I didn’t mean like teenagers do.

Soon after trying to figure out why our family is so messed up, I said some more things. Not trying to be hurtful. I recognize Dad having depression even though I don’t understand it. But if it has to do with me, he can let it go now. I am okay. I am grown.

I do not hold anything against you or Dad. Whatever happened was a long time ago. I turned out just fine.

I only wish everyone could get along like a normal family. I acknowledge some stuff went down, however, that was the past. I ask for forgiveness for people who didn’t realize how much damage it would do to our family. I don’t care about what Grandma did. She is my mom. However, you are also my MOTHER.

I have only ever wanted us all to be a family.

By letting go of the grudges threatening to rip us apart, we can let the past die. We can all be a family. 

 

Posted in Blogging, Writing

Day Three: Writing Challenge

Write About Someone Who Inspires You.

Inspire– To Fill With the Urge or Ability to Feel or Do Something. Possibly Creative.

Just when I thought yesterday was difficult– today is even more challenging. I have been thinking about this question for a couple of days.

I can think name a few things off the top of my head that are inspiring— music, reading my Bible, quotes, movies, and even enjoying time outside can do the trick. However, I cannot say I have just one person who inspires me.

I am a person, who has more than one favorite, even though my husband says, “It isn’t possible to have more than one of a favorite thing. Or it’s NOT your favorite.” I say differently. Why can’t a person be passionate about a few things??

With that being said– someone(s) who inspire(s) me.

My grandmother makes the top of my list.

I write about her often. Though she is gone, I still remember everything about her. The time we had together could never be enough! I wish I could have learned more from her. She had an amazing life story, and boy could she cook!

The way she lived spoke volumes about her faith. She loved her family, and God. She took care of all of us even when she wasn’t well. Hardly ever complained. Except when we went out to eat and her chopped steak wasn’t quite right, she did complain about that!

Nanny was a lot of things. A farmer. A house-keeper. A sister. A wife. A mom. A cook. A story-teller. A baker. A writer. She lived on a big ranch. Had seven siblings. Was afraid of storms. Lived through the Great Depression. Didn’t trust the bank so she kept her money at home. Lost both of her parents young. So eventually she made a family of her own. When she did she was protective of her children, and those she grew close with.

With my mom and my grandmother being close, my grandmother and I established a close bond. She grew protective of me. She told me stories until I fell asleep, and played Hungry, Hungry Hippos with me. Took me to church and colored with me. Nanny was awesome.

As I grew older, I didn’t appreciate her sometimes excessive protective streak stifling my freedom. But I do now, I wish I could tell her that. I wish I could tell her how much her loving me in the way meant to me. Sure she nagged me A LOT, but it was only because she loved me, worried about me, and wanted to see me succeed in life.

“You are going to go to hell for listening to that music! You need to go to church!” She would yell.

I laugh remembering it. It seems like yesterday blasting “Insane in the Membrane” in my downstairs bedroom.  I do feel bad. I tormented her on occasion because she tormented me. Guilt still pangs me to some degree. I know I was a “teenager”, and she knew that. I know NOW it’s what teenagers do. She seemed to strongly dislike some of my friends. Again, I understand now. Then, I didn’t.

She and my mother tried giving me advice about my friends, but I never wanted to listen. As a teenager, you never want to consider your parent’s advice about whether or not your friends are truly your friends. You wouldn’t think they would ever stab you in the back. Especially when you are thick as thieves. Lesson learned. Parents can be right. Keep your friends close, your enemies even closer.

Eventually I had my son and they became close in the same way. Then, a stroke came and took her speech. I’d never talk to my Nanny, again, without her being frustrated. However, my Nanny was still in there fighting. I could tell toward the end she was growing tired. She did not give up though. Her fire burned bright until the very end. She held on until my daughter was born.

So I guess if I could be like anyone it would be my grandmother because she kept fighting, she always found a way, and she had such intense faith– that is inspiring. Her intense devotion to God and family always shined brightly no matter what happened.

Two– People Who Are in Pain.

These people are the ones who get out of bed everyday hurting. They put a smile on their faces, and go about their day like nothing is wrong. It may be depression, chronic pain, or another underlying disease/disorder. However, these people put their families, significant others, or their own well-being first by continuing their day the best they can with a positive attitude.

When they struggle and they do, they know when to rest. These people are strong. It is hard when no one understands how you feel. It is difficult living pain, managing pain, and just trying to make it through another day.

Not every day is sunny. And you don’t always feel like smiling when you are hurting on the inside. Pain steals parts of their life away, although, they are reluctant to let go so easily! They fight for another day!

Small victories should be celebrated. When a person with a disability is able to do something they couldn’t because of their pain, it is reason to celebrate! Tomorrow is a new day…

If you know someone with a chronic pain disorder or mental illness such as depression the best thing to do is educate yourself so you can better understand them. Awareness helps us to understand what we cannot see, and become more compassionate people.

You never know what a person may be dealing with on the inside. Think about how you would want to be treated.

Three- Craig Groeschel

Who is Craig Groeschel? You may never heard of him. He is a preacher at Life.Church

I love listening to his messages, and he is funny. The messages make you think, and thinking is good. Right?

Have to find some way to feed that soul.

 

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