Writing Wings For You

Marie Lukasik Wallace ~ # I LIVE Poetry – I'm passionate about life and writing and all things creative and poetic!


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I Remember… (COLLABORATION)

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Well my friends, you’ve asked, and here it is.  Our next Poem Collaboration will be using the anaphora:   I REMEMBER

What I love about this open ended topic is that we can write endlessly from any point of our lives.  I can write a stream of consciousness without stopping, any memory that comes to me or focus on a specific age.   No rules!       Add your lines in the comments, and I will put them together to make a gorup poem.  No deadline…write what makes your heart sing.   Did you have favorite toys?  Favorite activities as a child or a teen?  Do you have family memories you’d like to share about your parents, children or loved ones?  I can’t wait to hear them!

Mine:   I REMEMBER


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Magical Miracle

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How difficult that must have been for you to reach from the top of the sunflower all the way to the chair. So unlikely an event and yet here is your thread of life, your tight rope, that is proof that you took the leap, that you trusted, and you made it. If only all of us were as faithful and trusting as a spider.

I’m totally in awe how that spider made such an incredible distance with not much wind.  What a miracle I witnessed today…I’m thinking angels are speaking to me.

(Also, notice the dilemma of my once majestic sunflowers.)


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More Coffee Talk – COFFEE KLATCH COLLABORATION ANYONE?

cofee-cuppa joe

COFFEE TALK

Coffee the elixir that soothes the soul
from wretched heartache
or morning out of control

No syrupy sweetness to mask the bold
No fancy flavors for me to hold
Just give me dark roastness
flavor can’t be beat
no icky bitter French
or taste of stinky feet

I’ll take a dash of cream
To rich the richness
Of aroma dreams

But more than this
I would gather up
a friend or two
to share a cup

We are both PERFECT in our IMPERFECTIONS

In response to More Cream in my Coffee over at Poetry Channel.

and If You and I Were Having Coffee with Writing Wings for you.

WE’VE GOT SOME COFFEE POEMS GOING ON.  WHAT DO YOU HAVE?

***The above photo is from an art piece from my textile workshop.  What I love about it is that it’s PERFECT in it’s IMPERFECTIONS just like me at Coffee Talk.


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Open Letter to Little One

Letter to you little one,

You, who was conceived in the most blessed love of two people

You, who only knew love

You, whose spirit

will forevermore be cuddled

between mom and dad

You who left your kiss marks on mom’s belly 

to remind her that

You are her spirit connection to God

so she may always know love.

You, guardian angel, are tiny

But oh so mighty

My friend suffered a great loss of a baby she waited so long to meet.

Her heart is beginning the journey to heal, and she began to write some. I pieced this poem together

from our written conversations.  Never has a little one been loved so much.

May these words heal another mom’s longing heart.


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Chautauqua

“Chautauqua”-: Today, it is “experiencing a renaissance. People are discovering that lifelong learning is one of the keys to living a happy, fulfilling life.”   I am so grateful this word, and this experience entered my life!

So this summer, I had been struggling a little with identity as I quit my long term career path as a teacher.

I had wanted to be a teacher since I was a little girl.  I had the courage to go back to school as a young mom in my late twenties and began teaching as my second career.  Ah…I loved it!  But the demands as a teacher were more than I could do and still pursue my other dreams of writer and writing coaching, so I didn’t renew my contract.

Enter, new phase in my life.  I’ve ALWAYS worked, and now I got to trust what came next.  Granted, I was lost.  I felt I had lost my tribe and that I didn’t belong anywhere and that I was alone on my journey.  Enter, my friend, who is a counselor.  He was EXCITED about my new journey and said I was RIPE for discovery and he couldn’t believe all that was out there for me.  You should have seen his face, grinning ear to ear, as if he knew a secret that I didn’t know.  Then, add in to the conversation, I’m about to take a trip across America with my husband for two and half weeks, and I thought he would vault out of the chair, and the grin that I didn’t think could get bigger, took up his whole face.

That’s when he let me in on the secret of “Chautauqua.   The way he introduced it to me was that I go into my travels without any expectations.  Be open.  Be honest.  Enjoy.   Also, not to hold on to any specific outcomes.  I took all this to mean ABSORB.  My great mantra of #ILivePoetry was my first thought….treat each day as a poetic experience.  What do I see?  really see?  What if I stop and notice more?  What if I take pictures from the under sides of things?     What do I hear?  Songs of the cicada? Ocean waves?   What do I taste?  Are there new tastes? New food?  Old favorites in a new way?  Experience it all.

Being open to an experience and drinking….no GULPING it in is way different than just doing it.  I LIVED it.  I truly “lived poetry.”  My take on poetry is that it’s the best words, in the best order, in the tiniest of packages but the most explosive of moments.  I truly got to live my live.  Then suddenly, the worries diminish, life’s blessings show up in the most unusual ways.  I noticed things in ways and places I hadn’t before.

In the next couple of weeks, I will randomly post my experiences.  I thought I might go by towns and stops along the way…not sure how it will look, just sharing.  It will be poetry unfolding.   And as I showcase my experiences, you’ll see my definition of a Chautauqua.  Namaste my friends.


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Can You Take me Back Daddy?

This is how I know there’s gold in every soul.  I think back on m relationship with my dad.  What I remembered as a child…both the open man and the closed man…and then I remember the man I knew as an adult.  Most of the time closed…but there were glimpses of gold in the soul.

I wrote this recently as a pondering.  What I like is that it pointed out to me where the walls were starting to form…the prison my dad built around him.  How I was so blessed the last couple of years that the walls started to get holes in them…and then I saw shiny gold peeking out.

If I could go back to any

Moment in time

What would it be?

I think this summer

When it was

Just you and me

 

We talked so freely

Just you and me

And I imagined how

It must have been

When I was a baby

And you cradled me

And you cooed with me

And life was simpler

Before you knew

You world was crumbling

And that people weren’t happy

Before your tenderness

Was crushed by the weight

Of real life

Before you knew that the love

Of your life wasn’t as happy as you.

Could you take me there daddy?

 

I want to know what

It was like before

The monstrous voice of the drink

Allowed you to say things

That were not really you

When the hurt unleashed

And lashed out on anyone

In its path

 

Somehow I always knew

That it wasn’t you

On those cold dark days

How?

Because there were

Those quiet moments

When you taught us

Poker and dominoes

And we sat around

Like a family

And laughed and played

As if there were no cares

In the world

 

Can you take me back there daddy?

May you find gold in the soul of all those you love.  Where would you like the time machine to take you?


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Throwback Thursday – An Old Memory of Home

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When my kids were growing up, there were so many magical times.  Mostly what I loved, is that there was an air of acceptance for all of us.  We were a blended family.  By statistics, we probably shouldn’t have done as well as we had…but honestly, there was so much love in our home.  Love got us through the sticky times.. By many standards, we weren’t perfect…but for each other, we were.

Enjoy my poem of our old childhood home…Three girls and neighbors who loved us.

10893 Montana

Home of oozy goozy mud art

proudly displayed on each child’s belly

and perfect bouffant.

 

Home of last minute backyard campouts

of roasted hotdogs and marshmallows

because our neighbor Ray had made

an “emergency” run to the store.

 

Home of Friday night pizza

dance videos and mini fractured fairytale skits

for a dozen giggly girls.

 

Home of make-shift forts

of bunkbeds and sheets

And “when do you think you’ll be taking that down?

I need to water my lawn.”

 

Home of visqueen and duct tape slip and slides

and neighbors who helped realtors take the signs down

to ensure our stay.

 

Talks over fences

Neighbors mowing our lawns because we were crazy busy

Junior’s eyes dancing with delight as Sophie, our dog,

Accepted his table treasures.

 

Flooding waters making wading pools

Splashing and running carefree through them.

 

No kitchen table…but couch trampolines.

 

Home of 2 families weaving themselves

into one fabric

and clothing themselves

in their warmth and gaiety.

 

10893 Montana

Where mommy is melted on the front porch.


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Love is…

Michael from The Poetry Channel introduced me to this challenge, and I love both challenges and the topic of love.  (I am a hopeless romantic.)   I wrote it, but then I was gone all weekend.  It may still need some tweaking, and I most certainly want to write another version, because well…you can’t talk enough about the magic of loving another beautiful soul, right?

Love exemplifies beauty

Love sings acceptance

Love envelopes harmony

Love connects spirits

  Love IS…no words

Love breaks barriers

Love softens rigidity

Love bonds hearts

Love communes souls

Love IS… beyond words

Since I’ve been a little out of the loop and don’t have enough people to nominate to do the challenge, I am putting it out there for you to decide if you’d like to take the challenge on yourself.  Here are the parameters.  AND…happy writing!

And don’t forget to check out Michael.  He’s a marvelous poet.

You’ll hear from me again on this topic.  I’m positive!

Have a GRAND week.

Marie


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My Daddy’s Sweet Release

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photo courtesy of Travis Jessop

 

My daddy finally received his sweet release from this world.

And now his journey continues…but without it’s restrictive form.

I was reminded this week by a dear fellow blogger, Michael,

of an old poem I read when I was younger.  My dad might

have even shown it to me.  It’s the perfect poem for my

poet friends.  Thank you for all your support in this difficult

time.  It’s bittersweet.  But am grateful for his peace.

Good friends knowing that both my daddy and I love

words, especially poetry, have offered some beautiful

gold nuggets…I will, if I can, pass them along this week,

or at least weekly.  Thanks for loving his sweet spirit.

A Thousand Winds

Do not stand at my grave and weep.

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning’s hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there. I did not die. – Mary Elisabeth Frye


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Time for a Sweet Release

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It is time

For your sweet release

Let go of this physical world

And embrace the spiritual.

 

There we can talk

We can play dominoes

And giggle

We can be whom

We’ve been all along

We won’t be restrained

We won’t feel frustration

It can be just you and me

Having coffee daddy

 

And your voice will be heard

And it will be written

A legacy embraced

And all will be as it should be

 

It is time.

Time for a sweet release

 

Trapped in a steel cage

Of silence

The tongue clumsy

Derelict of its duty

Unable to serve its master

 

 

 

Trapped

Unable to say

What you want

What you need

To be mad out loud

To say how you feel

Or don’t feel about anything

A mind alert without

A voice to support it

Is just that…

A trap…

So unfair

And cruel, and unusual punishment.

Let go.

It is time.

Time for a sweet release