In a Reminiscing Mood

This is one of my Favorite Spoken Word posts. Written on the occasion of missing someone no longer in my Life. It’s the stuff that Love songs a la Luther, Kem, Levert, Donny H spring from. Fueled by that 3rd glass of Pinot in the quiet early dawn. 🎶Yesterday …Love WAS such an easy game to play… 

Liberal Lin

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The World yawns, stretches and braces for a New Day

Birds chirp their morning Anthem.

Leaves unfurl

Grass shakes off its dew

And I lie here sleepless, thinking of you.

Missing the voice that cradles my heart.

Soothes and calms my fears.

Whispers gently, trust me

I will Not let you go

I get you.

Missing the Smile that twinkles

those gray/brown eyes

Deepening the dimples

bringing out the impish boy hiding inside.

Missing the Hands that heal the wounded

Pray to the Creator

And catch hold of mine

Carefully guiding me beside not behind.

Missing the Mind, lightning quick

complex, collecting, processing, storing

Zoom zoom on multiple tracks

Yet carving out some

cerebral space for me.

Missing the pet names

A language shared only by us.

Missing the passion

The volcano erupting, bubbling over

Spreading its fiery furnace over My land.

Missing my smile, my lightness, my glow

That touches all…

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Relationships..Reboot

(From the 2012 Archives…what’s old is new again…life is a circle…same sh*t/different day)
(I originally wrote this Blog a month ago  and in my haste to post it lost it due to a “no signal” message which suddenly scrolled across the monitor just as I was about to hit “publish” button. Of course, Reader that was in the early writing days of the Blog when I was foolishly typing on the site. After that experience, I went back to my traditional composing/ rewriting/editing method on a Word document before transferring it to the Blog site).
…This topic came about following a conversation with a close friend who casually mentioned it was her Anniversary.  In fact she recounted laughingly (not a word) that she had been married 34 years and did not realize it until a church member pointed to the Announcement in the church bulletin that Sunday. Surprise, Surprise. I assumed this was her hubby’s way of making this fact known to the congregation and also to his unsuspecting wifey. She said they generally never celebrated their Anniversary by doing anything special and this one would have gone by unnoticed as well.
…Thirty four years with the same person…waking up..going to bed..sitting across from the breakfast/lunch/dinner table…stumbling over underwears/shoes left in the floor…sharing/squeezing out the same toothpaste tube….doing the ..hurry up I got to use the bathroom dance...bickering about the remote/the credit card balance/the kid’s report cards/the water you forgot to put in the ice tray…AND she didn’t remember? How is that possible?
…In a relationship where the couple has weathered the storms of marital harmony and escaped the divorce monger (we are still at 50% survival rate), I guess it is easy to forget about the years that have slipped by preferring to focus on other daily challenges that life presents. How nice it must be to know that this area of one’s life is safe and under control…while jobs/career plans/health/finances/children/cars/foreclosure/bankruptcy/student loans/aging parents/etc.. all conspire to make life a hurdle and not a sprint.
…I had to pause for a moment and literally count the number of couples I knew who were similarly situated. Maybe not 34 years but still in the marriage game. Alas, the number was not many. The number of friends/colleagues/associates who are in the ranks of the divorced far outweigh the equally yoked crowd. And this Reader, I found to be quite sad.
…I am a self-proclaimed Romantic (not the tree hugging Wordsworth kind, I am more of the Zora Neale ilk), I believe in love. Just the other day a man I was unashamedly flirting with, asked me what is the one thing you want in life? Without pause, I responded LOVE. Not peace, not an end to world hunger, not a BMW, not a winning lottery ticket…(those would be nice of course)..but LOVE.
…As a young girl growing up in the 60s, I fantasized with my fellow playmates about falling in love. Back then it was Kookie from 77 Sunset Strip or Efrem Zimbalist Jr. who made us all go faint at the thought that they would leave Hollywood and come home to us in Victory Manor after a long, hard day on the set. This affinity and belief in love stayed with me through the terrible junior high years when I struggled to understand who I was. A skinny, darkskinned girl with long, thick hair and a nose too wide for her face. Who everyone agreed was smart as a whip and with that smile and that distinctive voice would certainly go far in life.

Gurl, you proved them right didn’t you…go head!
…All I really ever thought about was when would someone ever love me as much as I loved them. Of course, the fact that I was terrified of boys with their parts that could make a girl big like a watermelon did not help much in the boyfriend game. So I  spent long hours tucked away in the stacks at Blyden library reading every romance novel from Jane Eyre to Lessons of Desire And the stack of True Romance that I kept hidden under my mattress allowed me to vicariously experience this thing called love (or was that lust?) Same thing…Ah just kidding.
…High School brought concerns about fitting in, finding my place in a newly integrated world where I was a foreigner. Instead of the usual boyfriend/girlfriend/whatarewedoingSaturdaynite issues, I was busy trying to navigate the world of MHS and avoid the spitballs, obscenities, fights, threats that accompanied a typical school day. But I had chosen to enter this battlefield while my friends attended historic, all black BTW across town because I was in search of a different experience. I eventually found my place in Mr. Comer’s journalism class and under his guidance became the author of a monthly column, Over the Wall, which temporarily took the place of a boyfriend and opened me to the wonders of writing.
A column takes the place of a man….girl you must have bumped your head?
Writing became my solace, my girlfriend, my boyfriend, my safe place to fall…my love.
…Did it stop me from seeking a man to love? Of course not. If you have read those excerpts from my Memoir/Fiction (publication still pending…waiting for all the 50 Shades hoopla to die down) you know that I am the proverbial seeker of love (in all the right/wrong Places). From the days in heady L.A. to nights in Virginia is for Lovers, I have sought love. And sometimes it has sought me in return. Despite this quest, unfortunately, I cannot claim 34 years of marital bliss. Life had another path for me….one that involved lots of stops and starts…and multiple leaps over the broom. Am I disillusioned, burned out, broken hearted, walking wounded, stickaforkinmeI’mdone with Men?
Sometimes. Some days. But not many.
Most days I am hopeful… like Janie in Their Eyes Were Watching God, I too am looking at the pear tree waiting for love to find huh. And smiling at the memory of my friend’s 34 years that just seemed to whiz by without her noticing that she is still loved and in love

Love and Light!

BLACK LOVE

READERS: Many folks Talk about it, Blog about it, Post FB pictures ( President Obama and First Lady Michelle mostly) about it, BUT what does it REALLY Mean?

.. HE grabs your hand tightly as you cross the street headed to the 7:30 A.M. Service and seats you in the pew behind the friendly, devout, notafraidtositclosetoeachother,  80 year old couple and you both share a knowing look as you ponder will that…could that…pray that it will be US in another 20 years.

…He posts your picture on ALL his Social Media sites after you crack the glass ceiling at your job proclaiming your success to the www.

…He buys you a month’s worth of Meat and secretly stores it in the recesses of the freezer even though you are trying to become a Vegetarian; he knows you will be craving a steak,chop or burger soon.

,,,He knows your affinity for Capt D’s, Feather & Fin, Popeyes, Bojangles, Mickey Ds, Cookout, and other purveyors of grease-soaked foods and keeps a collection of newpaper coupons handy in your glove compartment.

…He plugs himself into the 50″ Sanyo every Sunday and travels to Fanatic Football Land but not before fixing you a mound  of pancakes, bacon and homefries.

…He lets you eat the first half of Chunky Monkey/Butter Pecan from the carton  while bingewatching House of cards and doesn’t complain about the uneaten (slightly wet) chocoate chips/nuts you leave in the carton.

…He  expertly and flawlessly sings your favorite Temptations song at Karaoke nite while the entire bar makes a collective sigh.

…He is short on cash, but “acquires” some New tires from Questionable sources for your aging vehicle

…He fries your favorite fish, runs you an epsom salt-lavender scented bath, puts your 80s mixtape in the player, chills a bottle of Red Stripe, and leaves the house so you can have some Me Time.

…He gets your voicemail and goes to Kay jeweler to purchase the sapphire ring and pendant set YOU selected earlier for your birthday/anniversary/mothers day/ Christmas/Valentines day…

…He responds to your BLACKPEOPEMEET post with “Hello Beautiful” even before he meets you for the first time, and after the first meeting, greets your phone calls with the same quiet,sincere, straight from the heart greeting.

…He avoids commenting when you load the shopping cart with jalapeno cheetos, famous amos, triple buttered microwave popcorn, chunky monkey, frozen jalapeno poppers, and an assortment of other waist expanding goodies.

TO Be Continued… Don’t forget to leave your comments!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In a Reminiscing Mood

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The World yawns, stretches and braces for a New Day

Birds chirp their morning Anthem.

Leaves unfurl

Grass shakes off its dew

And I lie here sleepless, thinking of you.

Missing the voice that cradles my heart.

Soothes and calms my fears.

Whispers gently, trust me

I will Not let you go

I get you.

Missing the Smile that twinkles

those gray/brown eyes

Deepening the dimples

bringing out the impish boy hiding inside.

Missing the Hands that heal the wounded

Pray to the Creator

And catch hold of mine

Carefully guiding me beside not behind.

Missing the Mind, lightning quick

complex, collecting, processing, storing

Zoom zoom on multiple tracks

Yet always carving out some

cerebral space for me.

Missing the pet names, silent looks

A language shared only by us.

Missing the passion

The volcano erupting, bubbling over

Spreading its fiery furnace over My land.

Missing my smile, my lightness, my glow

That touches all who knowingly Know.

Missing the love songs and mixed tapes

dedicated By you

And hours spent going through my

collection to

Find the perfect response for you.

Missing the kitchen. The back forty. The Farmers’ Market.

The half watched DVDs. The Lake. The Woods.

Damn, I am Missing You.

 

 

 

 

 

 

SPOKEN WORD

1406038038668  I like the way that sounds…the feeling that it arouses in me when I hear that phrase–Spoken Word. It’s different from poetry with its meters and rhymes, iambic pentameter, structure, form. Roses are red/violets are blue.  It reminds me of blues/jazz/ playing late at night in some darkened room, shades drawn, voices hushed. Spoken Word.

The biggest problem I see with you/me is Time

Or should I say the lack thereof

I know it’s only been 2 months

And there are things you must do

But understand

I am not

Content to be alone

To face minuteless days/clock-watching nights

Of solitude/boredom/loneliness

In fact, I have had about

All the loneliness With a man

These past 5 years

That I can stand.

I deserve more

Need more

Want more.

You said it yourself

The last time

We entered Paradise.

When I was 20 I used to

Play this game

With my friend Pam

Called Isyoutheone?

Hanging out in bars, malls, jazz spots, bowling alleys

Searching each strange new face

For some sign

Of compatibility.

20 years later

The game ceases to

amuse me

I am a love song

Searching for lyrics.

Needing someone who

Unselfishly understands my needs

Whose first thought

Upon awakening

And giving thanks to the Creator

Is of ME.

And when life

Requires separation

I understand.

We are given

So little time

Why waste it.

When there are so

Many things/Places/Feelings/Thoughts

To Share…Together.

I really don’t relish

Doing this alone

In my

40th year

It is really no fun

And sooooo unnatural

And if having you

Wanting you

Means that I will

Still be alone

Then

Perhaps I am better off

Without You.