my eclectic life and the search for spirituality

8/14/2019 My Eclectic Life and the Search for Spirituality

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My Eclectic Life and the Search for Spirituality

By: N. Ann Singh

Summary: I have compiled a book of poetry that represents and was written at different

times in my life. During my midlife, I became even more reflective and my interest andstories just seemed to synchronize. I consider myself a spiritual person and believe inmiracles. For me, fantasy and imagination have been healthy outlets. Being the baby,I thank my family for all their love, time and attention. I thank my husband for his loveand support. I would also like to thank Alice Walker who, I feel, has been a spiritualguide and role model to me.


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Distortion

Distortion abounds it is all around, not only in my head but through other clowns, lightand sound. Romance and drama, of the two, who have obstacles so so huge. Distortionlooms in both the physical, unseen and the moon.are distortion , romance and love

simply a gift from above are they just a chemical in our brains wild until they becomemore tameto believe in loveis to believe in ones own feelingstossing, turning andalways reelingI try to pin down the term love, if I believe in it as defined by themassesif I believe in it a little or in some shape or formlove can be like a littlewormsoft, puffy, seemingly blind it crawls into dark places and feeds for a while.maybe like the tequila bottle with the worm insideour love worms die but are still leftbehindto add to our flavor and our history as we age.maybe that is why they sayyou have the love bug you have it when it is nibbling, soft, blind and alivebut atsome point in some form it eventually dies for some it may be dormant until unsealedand revealedfor some it may cocoon then fly in another form in another way.tosomething or someone close or far awaymaybe it mummifies and becomes part of

each individuals rich historical archiveto select from at will when one needs to dealor simply reflect..distortion abounds, it rolls all aroundlike the wormthat rolls,wiggles and curls.it is soft and subtle in the way it twirls.Distortion abounds inmatters of the heartmay everyone who has a heart also have at least one worm thatthey can reflect on.to comfort and sooth and to say that yes they are someone.distortion or not, the worm feels real so therefore keep the love alive right in your ownhide.distortion aboundsromance.sounds.the little worm.


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Egos and Agendas

Mind games, head games, egos withdrawn would do us so much harm.my agenda youragendacomprenda my a frienda.wise up your older now everyone needs to learnhowto wise up see the hole in myselfsee the string inside methat can be plucked in

a heartbeat.stay centeredstay cooldont ever be no fool..a little person a littleme is inside of me on that stringthat wisdom treetwirling around and plucking atwilltry real hard and have her sit still.have her blend and twist around from top tobottom with her head above waterlike a vine that continues to grow and thickenharder to pull off and not much good for cooken.develop that tougher skin just like ona tree.you are no longer a little girl who has skinned her knee climbing up that vinethat treeyou can now be the giant at the top that does not stop...go up the bean stockand reach for the starsthe magical and mystical ones not just material things and carssearch high and low but always stay centered on this bowthis bow in me and my smallego the arrowthat can be sent in different directions on the straight or narrowstaycenteredyou are wiser now.stay centered and take a bowHappy Birthday to me

go go you can do it you will see.

Egos and Agendas


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Happy B-day to me...happy b-day to mehappy b-day to mehappy b-day to meIwill be 49 this coming Tuesday, February 26, 2008.

I need some jazz and jive to feel alive it will be 49 and I am doing more than finelivingin my big tree housewith my dear exotic man.out here in a kind of wilderness

land49 ..keep running for the finish line and catch every pass you see.dont miss outeven if you get an injured kneehooray, hooray, hooray.local girl makes good I wasborn in San Francisco 49 years I have understood, it was at St. Lukes in the Missiondistrict you seemother and father and three boys and were there before metheyowned a home in that districtwhen I have driven by at times throughout the yearsitonce was colored two shades of purple and had a lively colorful, multicultural feel.Iam 49I dont need any more shiners. Hooray, hooray..God is beautiful


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My Poem to Gabrielle & Family:

While driving through southern Chile between the mountains on either sidea volcano

on my left with the sun hitting my eyesthe pink mountains for the artists treat, thewoven baskets and chairs and all the clean air . Oh Chile you are a lovely ladydrivento the point where the coastal mountains and Andes meetit was as though we were atmother Chiles feet. To see the fused point where her vagina may be ...that may havegiven birth to this beautiful country along the seaBefore we knew it the nomadicgypsies appeared to add yet one more cultural dimension to this landthat looks like along ladies armDriving into the vineyard, Mother Mary is the first to appearpeaceful,quite, Gods energy so near

Then row upon row of vines that have bared grapes for the wine. So traditionallyhandpickedto be close to Gods earth through generations of one familys dream came

its birth. Any direction one would look Gods beauty would appear in each nook.

The horses, cats, dogs, guinea pig and birds seemed to be in harmony with each other andmother earth.

All the fruits, nuts, pastries, lamb and fresh corn were there to adorn. My senses wereoverwhelmed by what my eyes would feast upon.

To see such steadfast, loving people who are in good spirits at 89 and 93. To smile at thisage, visit and laugh, God must have made a plan for their paths

The gifts are many on this precious familys land. May God bless them and keep theirdream.

My Family.

My mom and dad are now seniors you seeI see, I see, it is their time to be freeI see, Isee, I need to wise up and listen to themI love them dearly they have given too much ofthemselves to meI love them dearlymy heart sometimes bleeds dad, I said youdid your jobIt must have been hard to raise four kids. No judgment, it just islifeis like the salmon that swims upstream with all of its wounds and bleeding it just has tofleebashing against the rocks, eyes and mouth open with fatigueyet that salmonkeeps climbing that is what is meant to bethe eggs in the female the sperm in themalefor both life can be utter hellsacrifice, giving and taking toothis life can crushthe guts out of youscraping your sides, drowning in muddy waterlife can take you


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for a rideafter this journey some barely survivepanting for air and just too tiredtotired to reflectto tired to thinkfeelings can be heavy as if you might sink.

Children running around scattered about, children running and raiding the house... TheTV... is on, the stereo and oven toothe house is warm, cozy and safethe world and its

dangers lie ahead and wait.but far from this moment in time when in the house on theenclave is our own world and we are not slavesfreely to run, explore and more.theflat top of the roof at 666 we could sleep on at night when it was too hot and we were in afixlooking out over the sky we could see the theatre lights, 2 or 3 crossing each otherrepeatedlyor once a year we could see and hear the fireworks go off in the skyon ourtip toes we could see the ocean farall the houses and people like a sea of their owncould they see us?I knew we were not alonewait one night there we could seeHaleys comet across the dark backdrop is history.

In the kitchen whipping egg whites, sprinkle sugar it is so fluffy and light, with ourspoons we would take a big dipinto the bowl that with what was fluffy and quickor

sometimes a round corn tortilla would be in the frying panwith a little salt we thoughtthis big potato chip was grand.

Fruit trees abound in the backyard we can see, plums, apricots, cherries and a walnut tree.The little loose falling hedge that I could escape to I played with my toys in my privateworld under only this tree and skyI opened my umbrella and jumped to the groundpretending to be Mary Poppins flying in the breezeon the side of the house and up theconcrete stairs the caterpillars would cover the whole wall as if to declare I am here forthe fall.a sea of orange and black velvet fuzz how many too many to count fromabove

In my bedroom there were two windows that I thought of as eyesscared at night Iwould close the curtains tightthen one nightmare so vivid and realI heard a loudthump as a Scarecrow hit my window with his long carrot nose and it broke while I laidstiff in my bedthe dreams were many and vivid you seea lot were about the Wizardof Oz and the Dorothy characterthe women in my dream lay on the school cafeteriafloor in a two piece suit she woreI walked around her body it looked out of placeafter all this was my school cafeteria where I in real life would eat in a racethe nextday or so the picture did appear Judy Garland died it said in the Newspaper. so clearImade some connection and pondered it for a whilebut spoke not a word for I was onlya child...it had no clear meaning but I felt I had this dream before she diedAngry childrunning about the houseangry at mommy I said you have micey micey hands and youcant hurt anyonesometimes she would grab me as I tried to run out the back doorone of my arms pulled behind me my buns as tight as an ironing boardshe could nothold her laughter and she found it hard to hit mefor my leather butt was my self-defense and protection you see.I sat in the laundry room one day, angry over what Icant say but had an evil thought and wished my grandmother would die so I could hurtmommyshe did die .the fright I felt was never spoken did I do that the secretlaid dormant in meone dream I am suspended in the airmy bare feet not touching theground as all the shrunken Skelton heads with long hair gathered around and tried to snap


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pieces together. I still have the rest of our lives to do this. I love you for this. You havebeen very steadfast, patient and loving. Romance is often defined as fireworks, roses,walks on the beach, an elegant dinner somewhere special---just the two of you,chocolates and , of course, hearts. I know now that I am speaking from my heart to youmy dear love that life without you in it would be an ancient barren dessert without any

life but the cracks in the soil that were a part of anothers life and anothers time, butthere would not be a part of us there once was a song that claims we are dust in thewindthat is not a bad thingfor one day our dust will be a part of this great foundationof earth it will be our together dust which would not have occurred had it not been for ahigher power that sifts through the sand and finds such small beings that are somehow insome mysterious way suppose to be together We were meant to bethat is allI prayand accept that we are going through this life together under a higher powers love andguidanceHappy Valentines Day!!!!

With all my heart and love, N. Ann Singh

Claws and Flaws..

Longfellow has claws he jumps and leaps and pounces we are in aweLongfellow has clawshe bites with his jawsrough play what hewill do .he surprises little girl and is curious and a tag along tooLongfellow is social but even he has flaws.he meows like a kitten evenThough he has those big claws.Mirror me Longfellow.show me my flaws.show me yourPlayfulness and loveliness and awe..I love flawsespecially minejust like I love my misery.I have claws that are domesticated and cut down to sizeLongfellow has his scraped off


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from climbing and jumping like Tarzan on a vine.Claws are to defendand grasp at the root of us allclaws come out from under thePaws.Show your claws when you have to not just at willknow the difference andHopefully they will help when you are in doubtDont claw your flaws.they are there to protect.sometimes they are there to protect

Our flaws and sometimes just to show that we can defend if necessary ..I loveMy flaws

Emotions at the Execution

Standing at my kitchen sink in my home where nurturing weeps and the young innocenceof sleepan alien invades as an intruder from within the clan homely, ugly little man.He has an ugly little plan to take the nest where the babies are asleep to take the nest inhis claws like a vulture without laws.

Through my door where I stand cooking and cleaning with my little hands he sits in theliving room with a hunched back rat as a pet that gave me the creeps the hunched back ratas ugly as can be from a culture where some have a distorted view covered women withtheir feet exposed the feet are sometimes hit with a stick watched so carefully with theevil eye looking for the darker side within themselves to place upon the shelf. This storyuntold to try and take the heart and soul in this story that may never unfold.

I stand up now and I cry out loud where was my guard to protect me somehow.


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The smoldering agony that lay dormant in meseems to have come forward from thesacred healing smoke that had entered and cleansed me.

Drown the disappointment yet keep my faith intact sort out the evil alien so I may thrive

to start a new.

Work my way and sculpture out the butterfly within get it out as they say let thebutterfly out to fly away from the ugly alien worm let the butterfly out after it squirms.

Secrets lie dormant within connected by generations past and far away to hopefully openup the personality of the babe. Open up and expose the pain eventually something will begained open the mind and the expression will come through let it be expressed fromwithin you.

Distractions abound to take away our clown soft, happy, plush little clown only

comforted by a mother I have found.

I left one culture mentally and physically behind only now to discover and find thegender differences where freedom and voice are concerned keep the taboo of silence inan urn voice is given and credibility is received sanctioned by society as the communityneeds speech and words come out with a tongue split like the snakes with poison serumfatal in mistakes.

The secrets lie dormant again after some relief and venting with God from above. OhGod thank you for the comfort you provide and the ability to see the light at the end ofthis ride. Embarrassment is captured in a small capsule still just waiting for the rightmoment to be revealed God opens the heavens to embrace our mistakes to suck out thepoison from ugly snakes renewed again to see the truth answer to no one just hand it overto God and peace.

Acceptance

Acceptance of myself and the world around me I think I seeI have kept my eyes covered from the pain that surrounds meIt is overwhelming and I do not want to see, the ugliness inMy surroundings and the ugliness in me

So desperately I continue down the same path withMy blinders on and the volume turned downit feelsSo serene when there is no stimulus or sound.But now I am older and have experienced more pain,I am coming out of the shadows for a glimpse afterThe rain..


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The light at the end of the tunnel if you will needs to be seen and experienced or you maypass it by right back into another tunnel and away from the sky.

Depersonalized and shut down I think this is what has happened to meI need to see thismyself and make choices as to what I want to be and see..fly little bird out of your

nest, fly little bird and be strong for lifes tests..swim like a fish in the deep and choppysea, you need to be strong, you need to be freefrom all the strong held beliefs you holdand from the pride that is inflated to too much of a degree.

Learn the rules, learn the game, even if you do not obtain fame, even if you keep fallingin the dark hole of shame and all around you seems insane, learn what to partake of andwhat is right for you.some times you have to give up something to receive the rightfuel.this is how you learn, through the pain and the shame.you need to put behindyou what others may think or claimas they say hold a mirror back to yourself and thenback again to the people.know in your heart that man is generally evil.it is toldthrough all the philosophies down through the ages of time.be civil but you need to

struggle in all the debristhis is how life is, this is where I can find me.in the deepdark dangerous waters that may hold you in place like jello or throw you in front of alife altering experience that hits you like thunder.you dont have to like it but as amentor of mine said when you have to eat shit take big bites this is what I dread.theprocess itself may not be so palatable you see, you may need to be spoon fed and spankedover someones knee. But when you grow and become strong with each wave know thatyou are closer and going away from the dark cave.

Dreams from my inner core

Deep inside my inner core; I look and I see a prism in meThe clear prism with its rainbow of colors throughout hasMe looking in and about; inside the prism I fall and I pray;Inside this prism there is always a rainbow in the way

In my dream as a child I was in a foreign land trying to communicateWith the foreign, dark native people; but they could not understand;The scarecrow in another dream hit his head against my bedroomWindow, I tried to scream; he broke his carrot nose and fell out ofSite down from the window and along side the house; into the night it scared me so

I want to sleep with my Go-Go boots on at night; they are a little differentBecause they have a bow up highif I cannot sleep with my Go-Go boots


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On may I place them at the side of my bedGo-Go boots then grew upTo black patent leather high top boots. I thought they were really cool.

Jesus flew over me and looked down upon me from the skyway way way up high.

In my deep dark hour in the apartment I sleptMother Mary came to me up the flight ofstairs with two large dogs at her side.she said to me Jesus is with you. A few dayslater I noticed the neighbors balcony had a statue of the Mother Mary in a little smallhouse of sorts. I knew she was the one that came to lifereally; I had not noticed herbefore.

The tormented night oh my tormented soul.the windows and drawers were opening andclosing on their own.the cat in the window meowing and scratching to get in.thenegative vibes that never seemed to end.even as I closed my eyes the faces came to mewith stitched crosses for eyes and grim details of a life that once was and now has cometo memy sister in law in the room next door.would in the morning tell me even

morethe grim ripper was in the house..something evil was in the house we bothknew.

My prism is my core I can look in on any of its sides. Not a lot of clarity but depth andcolors that shine.to look through my prism is my Happy House of sorts.to runaround and stare up or down it will stay in my core.when clarity comes it will comewith Gods will even in this prism transformation is possible still

My prism is my core I need not look for more for God will provide the clarity that ismeant to be

A Poem for my brother Gary

Your dark black hair, skin so fair andTender; blue eyes you had whichNever looked sad, no you would laughAnd laugh for daysYour smile was catchy and sweetWhen you frowned we knew you wereConcentrating complete

Riding your Harley, then tinkering withIt mechanically; breaking your eggs withOne hand.You were a lovable and somewhat favoriteChild I believe, how could such an innocentSweet baby ever be


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I remember fall season when we were homeYou would make something in the kitchenLike a fried corn tortilla; you would hand meThis big corn chip in a napkin. You would

Pour salt on it and we would chow it down

I remember you whipping egg whites, no oneCould whip them as fast and goodAnd I knew a dessert was coming after youWith vanilla and sugar too

Gary, your middle nameShould have been squeaky clean, hands andNails cleaned with Lava soap after working onYour machines

Gary as a child I remember writing a story forSchool; I chose to write about you and Tim, ourNeighbor too.

Both of you died in the end, as a child IRemember how hard it was to choose which wouldDie. When I finished my short story I handed itTo Mom. Her expression changed and sheSaid no you need to rewrite the end. So I rewrote theEnding as a happy one; little did I know when?You were out having fun some years later downThe road, your life would be taken so early inThe accident. After that Gary, Tim died too.

A Poem for Virginia

Looking upon pictures of moms earlier years, I see and feel and hear the softness thatrings through so clear. Head held high with a baton under one arm, marching through lifewith a smile and charm

Sitting at the dance club with my father by her side, soft and gentle she appears yet I see astrong fighter after analyzing the years. With her soft smile and wavy hair she will beliked everywhere something like that was stated so clear in her high school years. Hersmall little waist added to her grace. After four babies that she loved with all her heart,after all that labor of love she lost one of her angels to God. To sacrifice this innocentlamb, it was all she could do to keep the family close at hand.

Mom always made me feel better, secure and confident. She projected inner strength,faith, and content. She always said Have faith in yourself with a low, confident tone.


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She shared her secret of how she would get through I always thought about my familywe were all close.

I remember moms no bake cookies in a small tin, red and round it was passed around.The wax paper unfolding and the chocolate smell prolific. Mom made good chocolate

chip, peanut butter and oatmeal cookies too. Lots of cakes, Bisquick cinnamon breadfresh from the oven with its thick glazed slices ready to grab.

In the 60s she started her career attending beauty school. She still had that small waistand soft confident smile, after all this was moms signature style. She continued herstudies and even found buddies at this cosmetology school. At the end of the year itwas so dear she emptied out her collected tips from her canister. $300.00 was all in thepot and we each got to dip into the change for her children she continued to share allthe same. That year we had missed mom but understood it was her time to fly andgrow. I missed her when I would come home and she no longer would be the one togreet me at the door. Her role had changed and she was with dad in the salon; however

we always knew we had mom.

Mom had her battles, she had her grace and as always her beautiful face. Have faith inyourself she would say; or maybe you have your antennas out too far. She was shyand reserved yet always put her kids first. I believe she wanted a life without so muchstrife, but we had no voice in my generation. This is true, but her wisdom and copingsomehow got her through. I love you mom, you were and are a good role model, but asyou know, I had to be me.

Love of my Life in Youth

Love of my life in youth I prayed you would somehow, someway stayLove of my life in youth my body withstood all it couldLove of my life in youth I prayed to rescue you so you would need me all the more myheart an open ceramic vase red, large with heavily flowing aches. Is my mind stuck onyou, is my mind trained enough to see this pain throughlove of my life in youth, the tears filled my ceramic heart which once burned in the fire ofmy passion for you, turned hard and different shades of purple and blue with the thoughtof my not having youThe pain, too much pain, what to do with all this pain. It swelledin me as I tried to hold it back. It welled in me like a raging tiger, angry, scared and fullof fire.

Love of my life in youth I dreamed only of you, the desperation I wore first disguisedgreedily had busted my gut just to let me open upI will follow you love of my life in


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youththis is to be true. The shame and craziness of my longing for you makes meweary and tired too. Just the thought of being without you and to never see you again,would bring so many tears that would fall to no end.Love of my life in youth I want to mourn in this depth of despair and dress all in blackjust as your cultures women wear.

Love of my life in youth, my foolish heart, my love, you are in my heart just as thewriting on Egypts pyramids has been carved throughout all these years.

Love of my life in youth, the feelings I experienced with you were not like another, nonever was it to bethere was but only one love of my life in youth you see. You werelike my baby I wanted to rub with lavender oil and always spoil.

Love of my life in youth, I thank God I found you.

Loss of Innocence:

Dizzy and happy, tossing to and froround and round where she stops no one knowsachilds laughter and big broad smileBody crunched in halfbelly shaking like spaghetti in a bowlClimbing trees and on tip toesShhhhhh It is a secret.children love secrets.

Growing pains branch out from the gutNew experiences are enriching and stretch usThey leave a child with questions of is thisA good feeling or bad?.Childrens questionshalf answered and half understoodThe child remains in constant stretch and growth motions


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Running home along the same pathconstants areThere but change is ever fast.Sounds that come out of the hills and the treesUnusual sounds that seduce and ignitePreparation for adulthood too soon better than too late?

Run along be King of the Hillfeelings ofBeing too Big for your BootsOver your head and under the age limit tooBoundaries collide each and every minute

Protect yourself and embrace the newSenses and emotionstime is runningOut it seems the competitive raceTo fulfill societys dreamsGrow up wise uphold your tongue

All signs of healthy growing in the youngMixed messages like meteorites that collideInnocence taken for a ride

Can any one see? Can anyone hear?Am I showing all the signs of anger and fear?Neighborhood watchput your signs in your windowNext to the school and across from the churchChildren are in abundance playing and learning

Jump high and touch the skyreachWith your arms and stand on your toesNow can you do all this while touching your nose?Coordination, growth and socializationOutword she has blossomed with smallRounded firm breastsRacing and jumping to beat timeNot knowing all around projectionAnd opinions are growing likeVines

Vines that continue to grow on youAre watered and nurtured yetUnruly and wild.whoPlanted the seed to letThis clinging vine latchAnd breed.

Is the child growing up orIs the child simply going along?


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What does this child feel, say?And think among all theRest of the world so wild

Nodding the head and biting the tongue

Pain and endurance are consideredBravery and rite of passage wonTough it outUntil one daytoughing it outIs outgrown

As an adult with the seed stillWithinlooking for new babyLeaves to clip and begin againTake the clips and nurture themAs you nurture your soul

Help them to heal from theirRoots of the child so bold

Reexamine them and see howThey growgive advice andMessages toosee whereIt leads them just as it onceDid youInnocence rebirth through meSo I can see my inner beingAnd child that was once so freeFree to be meas the sayingGoes .before all the projectionsWent from our heads to our toesInnocencecaptures me again

The Bloody Girl of Afghan

The bloody girl of Afghan rolled around on the sand with pushes and shoves, shoes andno gloves, spit on and hit; diagnosed and dissected as a misfit.

The bloody girl was in a whirl, her long black shiny hair jumping and waving in the airjust like a rag doll with no where to gono one to help or respond to her criesno oneto wipe the tears in her eyes.


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The bloody girl bent over in pain from the hits, like a wilting flower she lost all her youthand power.the white skin with the dirt and dust, her small waist almost broken in twofrom all the pain inflicted by you.yet only blood could be seen not the black andblues.not the blues that must have been in her soul for the boy she loved and longed forso.her youth against all the old men and their traditions, kicked her down to punish for

their ways all the plays in life they all are guilty of, whatever they may be, were notbeaten out of us?.the uniformed men with their broad shoulders never even looked over.all were dead around this young lifeI will stop here for only God can forgive orjudge you.I will stop here from my lips to Gods ears..see yourselves on the cellphone.many of you, you are not alone.

The whole world saw the bloody tears and bloody face; we all saw and witnessed thisdisgrace. We witnessed it and watched as another piece of humanity has been lost. Thelittle lamb was crucified for our sins.as God is my witness never againthat is all,now she, as many before us crawled into her grave yet how delicate and brave it is saidin the Middle East you can either walk through this life or you can crawl she walked

tall through hers but you kicked her down, in your brawl, yes it took you all. Oh whatmen, how proud you must be, it took all of you and only one of me and yes the wholeworld did see. She is in Gods arms now safe and sound her heart full of love where allof yours has drowned in her blood, was it a thrill?.you have not washed any shame,you are all the ones to blamefor your ignorant selves, your half dead lives, for thebeatings of all your daughters and wives, ignorance is your cave that you cowards dwelljust like a hole in the ground down towards hell

The Young Ones Sitting on the Cushions

One little girl sits high on her pillow with her head tilted to the side and almond shapedeyesshe points her finger straight out at you.to say hello world, I got youshe ishappy and petite while sitting on that cushion so neatshe is sweet like a candy coatedalmond put a little bow on her, a bracelet dangles as you seeshe is clearly Gods artpiece for the whole world to see.cute little girl with thick black hair and almond shapedeyeslights up the room, the city and the skythe young ones sitting on the cushions

The Young Ones Sitting on the CushionsSecond poem:


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All three children are sitting together, sitting on the pillow cushions waiting for life towhisper in their hearts and earswhat it is on this earth that is so dear and clearforthem to grab a hold of and climb like a vine.this will happen all in good timeonelittle boy with a medium dark complexion sits with round eyes relaxed and his chin in his

hand with his two siblings right next to him on the same cushions that support himhe isthe oldest of the threepart of his duties are to look after their needs.what will he be?

The other little boy sits in the middle, hair looking sharp and face with expression of ayoung cool kid. Probably watches TV. and videos with action heroes too so he canemulate and fly around in the roomto his right a little girl is in sightthe one fromabove sitting very pretty and loved.the young ones sitting on the cushions.

The Wise Old Lady, the Wise Old TreeDedicated to my mother

I feel I am growing wiser and stronger as I age.As a peach tree thats branches have extended yet sway.From the suckling at the breast of my wise old muse comes forth the fruit ripened fromthe growing pains of youth

The syrup dew forms and solidifies while some fall away to strayThe syrup dew falls where it may in the spring, yes the month of MayNay, to the pain of youth the wisdom of the fruit shall sayFrom my branches from this old wise tree I will nurture with my dew drops that fly in thebreeze


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Those who have fallen and are not yet quite treesAs God is my witness, I bare my fruit for all to see yet none to refuteAs my favorite poem glides through my headit is about loss of youth replaced bycomfort instead

Through the years and pain of youth comes forth the tree to bare its fruitFor some, limbs are strong and support all that grasp while nourishing the freshness andnewness alas

My round little babies that cling to me, to me a mom, through this wise old learning treeI give each of you my nectar; I give each of you my youthWith the ability one day to bare your own fruit

The One Room School House Let the School Bell Ring School is out

This was a lesson for the entire world to see, one that has never been seen, not even onSchool House Rock on TV. Energy can be found in the innocent who sacrificed theirblood and the two little girls who said shoot me not all of us. Todays world with itscenturies of hatred and religious rhetoric should take notes on this killing spree by adisturbed man that left our world to question but not understand; what now rings homefrom the school bell are the little innocent girls. Let the school bell ring for the wholeworld to hear. Take this lesson to your heart and drink from the blood that has spilled;nourish your soul so we can all say these little girls did not die in vein but taught theworld what it is to be humane; what it is to be true to yourself and your beliefs; theprayers on their lips for the demon that bound their feet; the demon that took them out.School is out, now you can go home, into Gods loving arms where you belong.


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So lets not cry and lets not grieve, but celebrate a lesson that was meant for the entireworld to see. I saw the black buggies so neatly and calmly in a row; waiting to see thelittle girls and there lesson to the world.

Out of the mouth of Babes this is what they say; the shots to their heads put holes in

their skulls so that smoke could come out and cleanse us all. The blood on the walls, thewindows and chairs was not in vein it is suppose to be there. This is Gods will, hewanted the world to see, how brave, faithful and loving a human can be.

Feel and love the energy from above that is now in the school house full of blood.

Time for Bed

It is almost time for bed and I want a poem in my headdrowsy and doseywords Icannot always chooseyI feel real cozy.when I get ready for beddyI dont have ateddy except for my hubby Jay Bear.my security blanket as I turn off the lightsclosemy eyes and tell myself to sleep tight.drift away

The young man with dishwater blonde haircircles around with vibrant sky blue feathersin his hair, on his shoulders just everywhere.

Displayed as a portrait in vibrant and muted colorsthe little wispy feathers would justflutter and flutter


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The young man with dishwater blonde hairskin light olive and somewhat fair,adolescent boldness and strength in the air

The young man with dishwater blonde hair

Life

Life is about chance, life is about strifethe good the bad and it will all be alright. Lifeis temporary we are not all here to stay. One day I will fly away up to heaven from whereI have seen The Ray. God is powerful; he has big arms that reach down. He holds meand comforts me like a baby in a nightgown.

I love you God; I cannot wait for that day for when I will transcend the earth and float upto that ray.


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Ciao.

Ciao Gincarla.Ciaoto the Gincarla I once knew.she is in her land in very goodhandswith a loving husband and me here as her fanI love you GincarlaI rememberall the advice and things you taught meyou are remembered. I look forward to seeingyou next week. Ciao Gincarla


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What Purpose?

It No Longer Serves a Purpose..it no longer serves a purpose for me to cry the hoursaway over the past days of any cruelty or injustices that were thrown my wayI ambeginning to connect to myself insidedrawing and thinking about what boundariesreside. It no longer serves a purpose for me to love my misery emotional junkie.emotions like waves.steer and jeer and can take command with their hand..my torsojiggles with the fluttering of feelings in the air.stirring around in my gut and navalareas.stirring around.I need to express them out..but some no longer serve apurpose from which their pain came.the experience has been put into some kind ofperspective and jotted down in some other kind of notes and in another time frame.new frames, new games.what lies aheadthey no longer serve a purpose they are justclogging my head.ruminating going around at last a friend has given me a weapon to


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erase mine from when you come aroundmy two eyes look up to the center of myeyebrows and it stops that thought and image in its tracksnow hopefully I can find myway back.it no longer serves a purpose in the dark center of some other time, place orspace.the light was around but the dark engulfed and muted my ability to reason andrespond to any sound from inside or outside of me whatever their influences may be.it

no longer serves a purpose.now I may move forward with flutters of those samethoughts and images running about from time to time.they fade though like fads.Iam swimming forward in my lifes sea with all the big waves crashing about.like afish out of water in this rough sea I will again need to find my inner connectedness tomeI am now a porpoise without a purpose but we shall see what the sea shell see

Sunken Places

In the night when the pain of the abuse still lingers in flightRecall the flash of the light that questions the bruise and frightThe pain in your heart and the pain in your chest wherein liesThe wreckage of old loves lost at best

Take aside the treasure chest with all its wealth and jewelsPick it up and sift threw all the illusions and reality of foolsFor one may find after all the questions have stood in lineThe little piece of reality that will give you peace of mindIt will help you to see clear what you hold so dear

Pick up the pieces, the coins and the rocks


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That lie in sunken places that are darkJust pick up the rocks and pieces of the pastSift throw them again and again until you find at lastThe one thing that will take you to the answer youSeek

The one thing that will take you so that you fallDown on your kneesFall down in prayer and fill yourself with the lightHealing will take place in the middle of the nightPeace

Peru

In Peruthe grass is very green and covers the stairs for the spiritual ritualtwo stonefigures ascend the stairsgoing direct and focused on the stairstheir climb must havebeen ancient and others walked in their foot printsascent to heaven without anydistractiondirect and up highput your hearts in Gods hands..


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Iguana

Climbing inside the skin of an old friend, I am a lizard, an iguana, a monster. I move andsway my body and tilt my head with my spikes sticking out from the top of my headdown my spine.. I sway to and froI am a monster and I let my self showhead held upwith easy moves with my arms and legs.my tail is thick and then goes to the tip.I seethrough these eyes and I feel from its soul.the pride and conceit captured and bold..Iguanahold your head high and walk.almost something like a peacock. especially themales.hold your head highconceitthe huntblend your hide.Iguana.stick outyour tongue.lie on the rocks and capture the sun.thick skin among your friendsthebelly inching along the groundsensual and low.Iguana the monster.capture yourprey.who will you relish for the day.Iguana


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warming my head and bagging the memories to grow and be sharedopen up inside thehead, open up and see if they are dead or just crawling around like spiders on thegroundthe truth has come to me through my tears I can finally seetruth

My To Die For top

I have a lovely lightweight top that is reminiscent of the 30s or 40s. It has shoulderpads and quarter length sleeves. The background is white with red, black and light tan,wavy lines. It is high wasted and has some black velvet trim. It really is just to die forbecause it looks so dramatic and flatters ones figure. It is just to die for. I just knowanyone who looks at it wants it. I love it.


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Spiritual Friends.

Spring forth the sensual phasewith the turn of the headand a longing gazetwoeyes that collide with extrasensory and magnetic power.the strong pull at the roots oftheir two budding flowers..they communicate with their sensory touchthey smelleach other and wipe off any dewthey bloom together in just the exact amount ofroomthe sun in the sky shines down on them to add to their already heated love theirlarge blooming heads fall together.their pedals find a way to reach out to each otherand caress their full faces which makes each of them melt like butter.sweet liquidbuilds in each of their stems the liquid oozing out of themonce the seasons of theiryouths have passedwhen they can no longer be sheltered by the trees or the grass.they begin to rescind from the worldly elements that behowever, the two eyes that oncemet with the sweet liquid not completely gone yetthey connect in such a way thatthey continue to swaywith one another as God oversees their days.their passion not


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yet gone but enhanced by their extra sensual, extra spiritual lovesunset and sunriseeach moonlit night.their bond maintained longer and stronger by the powers that keepsthem from asunderAs Gods loving arms reach down from the sky to caress them bothin where their energy and love liesGod willed their spiritual bond to forever be .tosuch an extent that they no longer need the seed, wisdom and love will oversee..

Spiritual Friends

Weeds Are Growing on my Heart

Unresolved pain is felt in my heartUnresolved pain which has not finished from the startUnresolved pain swells from past times

The weeds are growing in a patch on the sideI see the weeds growing and feel them insideThe weeds have some meaning and place in my lifeIm trying to analyze and see what it is all aboutWhat they represent and symbolize to meisSomething good, weeds have deep roots andAre hard to get rid ofthey grow all over


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young and new coming out of the earthnow able to see myself in you as you shine andcomfort me too.

Sweet, smooth, warm liquor you are mine from an exotic landall around is warmth andsoft sand. I see us in this soft, warm, sand with nothing around except the soft, blue sky

as a blanket with healing vibes for both of us to absorb.

Sweet, smooth, warm liquor sink with me into the dessert sand soft and warm.

God, please let me feel this way forever.

Marissas Poem:

Marissa my dear I hope you can hear your auntie here. You are a 21 year old young ladywith blond long hair, beautiful face; you can be the bell of the ball with all your grace. Iwatched you grow up my little buttercup. I could not wait to call, see and be with you;you were the one who got me through my rough times. I had a picture at my desk atwork of you when there were just you. I looked at you and knew I could get through.

The day you were born I was at work, slugging it out with a half hearted feel; when youwere born I came to life and felt my life was real and that I had a friend in you too.


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I hope you have changed, I hope I have tooWe were just immature spirits that floatedAboutbut not meant to mature togetherThe Karma came throughmy good karmaWas that I no longer had to tolerate rude you.

I Needed a Tortoise Shell

As a little girl I endured the slings and arrows brought on by this worldIf I was in harms way I would either leave or stay with a ray of hope it would subsideone day.

I would dream of a day when the harassing and teasing would just go away. Walking onthe side walk in my own thoughts and place, the harassment would begin by someobnoxious kids who have lost their face.

I wish at that time I had a tortoise shell so I could wear it and know full well that theslings and arrows would just bounce right off instead of sticking in my head.


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A tortoise shell for all to see that no matter what they did or said they would be unable tohurt me. It would not be a burden or too heavy for me just something I would need tosupport and protect me.

As I envision myself walking back to that little girl, I place a tortoise shell on her withsome comforting words that one day she will be a better person for this, that one daysomething would blossom out of all the innocence which the ugly people with their greenswollen tongues could not have in their hearts, in their families or homes.

Talk is cheap and so were they. My little girl who wanted to run away. You can nowstand tall with your tortoise shell and all for everyone to see that you could not be takendown by the small minded and big mouthed clowns of the town but would rather float byin the sea. Some were dressed grimy and others with large breasts and glasses were justplain slimy.

Thank you dear God from above for the tortoise shell that I now have placed to protectthis little girl... She can float or swim on her back or on her breast. For this little bravegirl has passed through all tests. Congratulations my sweet love the angels are with younow from above. Hold onto your shell and never let go for you will still need it as lifegoes forward, you will know one day so. Decorate and celebrate your shell for yourneeds. Decorate the shell and God will be pleased that you could create such a place foryour heart will still be tender in that hard shell of a place.

The heart will be tender for your words that will come forth one dayThe words of comfort that will keep you from going astray.Keep all your precious words, thoughts and treasures tucked neatly awayIn the shell that will keep you sailing on your wayI now have a shell, hoorah!

Gary

Gary you have come to me with open arms to carry my heavenly foolish heart on ajourney.


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Me..

Creeping up on me is mecreeping up on me is me..creeping up on me is me.myshadow is lurking and creeping up on me I would be embarrassed of things fromchildhood.unaware, without a care.creeping up on myselfmisunderstood.socialskillsdont take pills..run up and be King of the Hill.creep up on me.grow uplike melife is encroaching upon me.it creeps and encroacheslife.END


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Dear God:

The savages in the Congo with beating drums and feet that pound making all fear so deepin the ground.the roots, the trees, the birds and the skyweep with sadness at thesadistic tribesburn baby burn@#%@@ someone to deatha death with no recoveryof the soul or the spiritthe womb that allows for us to even existthe act of loveturned to unspeakable meannessinhumanity is not the wordinhumanity is not thecrimethere is no word to describe this evilit is not of this world it is demonic andfrighteningat some point a line is crossed where savages are no longer human beingstheir behavior eradicates all human qualities to commit such brutal and hate drivenscenes.the hearts and spirits of the innocent that have been slain and degraded mustsurly be in Gods arms like a cradle of one mass gravewhere do all these broken and


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This is no trick or fairy tale dustThis is the wisdom of life that hope-Fully comes to us

The Golden Sand which flickers inYour hand is only captured in theMoment while lying in your hand

It is not for us to keep, noIt is ours from what we weepIn this life that is so deep

Seeing is believing when itSparkles in your handseeingIs believingthere is so much

In this sand

This is not fools gold whichTricks and plays with your mindThis is the wisdom that has beenPassed down over time

When intention is expressed toGod up aboveour whispers ofLife and our tears of loveGod transforms the painAnd the burdens we haveHeld onto and suffered throughAll into magical golden sand

To pass this sand on is the purposeIn lifelike passing a lighted torchOn an empty and dark nightFor another soul which has lostHis or her way who will follow?In all mankinds steps justExactly as we have strayed

The magical golden sand willSparkle for them and showThe light of hope and healingFrom their souls to GodsPresencethis is all fromRevealing


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Revealing then healing isWhat will happen next?This is part of our testSo take and glimpseAt this magical sand

This magical sand thatYou hold in your hand

Gently sprinkle it backTo Gods landfeelThe magic and healingFrom that sandFeel it all around youAs the universe surrounds youHeal nowGod has touchedYour lifeit is ok to feel

Then let go with all theMagical golden sand thatHas scattered about whirlingAnd twirling around likeA kite.feel whole againThank you God

Elation

Elation..I am elated and my heart feels like it has been elevatedon a swing it holdson with its strong muscle.seeing above the everyday life experiences that trouble it forawhile

My heart is elatedone could hope for more but the less fortunate may not haveexperienced this at all

My heart is elatedit wants to jump out of my throat and hop around just like mybunnies on the ground.will it go out on my sleeve.will it weep once the elationsubsideswill it feel it has been taken for a ride?


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Hand on the door bar she pushed with all her might; she knew this was just the beginningof her fight. She picked up a basket on her left then drifted by the cash registers withoutturning her head. The fabrics were out on their bolts all in a row. Flowers, stars, cowsand clouds; all shapes and sizes would be among and in between the crowds.

Shelfs stacked high to the sky. All around there would be crafts galore. Wood, plasticflowers, ribbons, and stuffing for pillows. That would just be the beginning you see, forCrafty Cathy would turn just one corner and see more and more things she just could notbelieve.

Piled on each and every aisle mounds of stuff some neatly stacked, some on a rack butothers would be scattered about with wrinkles and creases. The clearance aisle would bethe messiest of all, that was exactly what Crafty Cathy would look for among that aisleso tall. She would look for the cheapest crafts of all. The wooden balls, the metal stands,broken holiday ornaments that somehow looked so grand. Her hands would reach outand touch everything, looking at the prices, turning to see if in fact in someway or some

manner she could use this item in her own stock pile. Once in a while she would gatherup one and all. All the ornaments from last fall along with the wooden balls. She wouldthen walk back to the counter with her arms full. Singing and rhyming just any all things.Plot! The stuff was thrown on the counter. She would banter justa look what I foundhere. Her hat was tipped her hair all in a disarray. A big large smile would then be onher face. Whatcha going to make the cashier lady would sing. Whatcha going tomake with all of these things?

Crafty Cathy would then look down with her eyes, for some times she could get quiteshy. I can make lots of stuff, I may choose to keep the whole lot or give it as a donationto Toys for Tots. I really dont know, I really cant say. For today is still yet to be andtomorrow far away. I do know though I would like to spend my time wisely with the useof my mind and hands for the good of man.

After things were rung up and she was headed for the doors her hands full of bags, shestill wanted more! She used her foot to kick open the doors then her shoulder to hold itjust a little more until her tail end with all its feathers was out the door. For Crafty Cathyknew she liked to shop and create. She used a lot of energy in this process for heavenssake. Yet, she would look forward to her next outing and trip. However, in between nowand then she had a lot to create.


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Yarn with emotions

I look into the box in the craft storeJust as I have always looked beforeThere are many colors and texturesOf yarnsome are unraveled likeEmotional threads that can feel atTimes they are popping out of yourSkin and head

Some of the yarn balls are wrappedWith a paper in the center and neatThey have not unraveled and have yetTo meet defeat


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Rather, they lie there in tact justWaiting to be thread for a scarfAround the neck or a hat on someOnes head

Those yarns yearn forSomeone to pick them up andPut them to usefor thenThey will have a purpose forThe entire world to showTheir unique selves just likeYou and me.

Iraq War

Ancient lands with stomping feet, fighting, cursing and in defeat. The years that havepassed have seen the strong and the weak. Tyrants and bullies, meek and frail, in themidst of war it is a living hell. Energy swirling out of control, frantic, fatigued what isthe goal? Surrounding dust with flakes of ancient jewels, dirty, dusty dust among all notjust those who rule. Kick up your heels, kick dirt in their face; does this make sense?We are all part of the human race.

The sky breathes with pressure from underneath, smoke, dark clouds with birds scatteredabout. Compression and openness tug and pull. Among all not just those who rule.Guns and bombs are flying about, guns and bombs are everywhere flying high up in theair; penetrating the ground with genuine high speeds; this war has brought the world to its


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The human heart

My Brother Ron.

Ron is clean and prays a lotGod shine on him in his life and make the days flylethim sleep undisturbed under your watchful eye.put all his worries and concerns asideand let his head rest on the palm of your hand and close to your sidelet him count thesheep that Jesus watched over .let them leap over little fences with their white, softcurly hairGod watch over Ron and keep your eyes on any pain he may need to bearlighten any burdens let him hear and feel our prayers.God keep a watchful eye overRon Amen


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Hick Day

Put on the old mans work shirttoday there are no skirts.kick me in the rumporsome silly such slogan.all boundaries are off today and no need to brush your hair.itis hick dayit is like a big faircarry your magic markers to write what you willforthe most partthere are lots of prankshave to maintain and not be a pill.save yourhick day shirts.they are funny as can be.I just remembered my hick day shirtrecentlychildhood memories.the writing is on the wallbut it may also be on yourrump or any number of other anatomy places that were called.Hick Hick Hurray!


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Egg Poem

The white oval egg is so warm and smoothafter their boiling the water washed themanewthey need no colorthey are natural...they are in a nice clean bowl now thoughthe baby chicks were not saved..Their mothers nourished us with her sacrifice darkyellow center serene white all aroundthe golden yolk could be the jewel in the crownof the white thick gelatin smooth, paddy. God thank you for mother Hen for her labor oflovethank you God from up above.


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Energy.


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My arms are small, with minimal muscle and all.I punch my punching bag in thegaragebare fistedhit my knees against the bottom of it should I need to do so in therealan email was sent that stated the youth of today are coming out in recordnumbersyes, in the political arena.joining groups that have not seen these numbersof young since the 60s. Youth come reach out to the world however little it may seem,

form your own ideals and follow your dreams.make the changes that you feel need tobe made in your hearts and minds.youth stand up for yourselves and contributewhatever, even time.even contribute your thoughts and formed ideas for they may bethe ones that may help us deal .in this reality that bites .that we lay awake at nightwondering how we got in so deep.God help us all to help ourselvesbring your loveand guidance down for us to hear it.God help us all help ourselves and each other.Thank you mother and father for your love and guidance.Amen.

Do I know em?

Do I know em, while writing this here poemin the early morning hours I hope forGods rays to shine throughto lead me to another me and perhaps another you (all ofyou) who just may be out there .mother and fatherGod shine your light on themthey are my best, best friends.for the life of me I do not know why I seem these days to


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cry and crymy B-day is around the cornerI am, I know, in perimenopauses circle.Gary my dear, dear brother that diedhe was in my abdomenI wonder whyIremember climbing into Garys bed when he was just a boythe bed was warm and hewas all curled up like a wormI was wide awake and he would shout at me to put myknees down they were rocking to and fro under the sheetsgiggly sister staring at her

brotherhoping he would wake up soonbut he would sleep hard and then screamNatalie go to your own room. Gary is in my abdomen.I love him he is my littlefriend.Gary is in Gods arms

Feelings in my Lifes Bank

Finding my reality, scribbling in the voidAs I reflect back on my life be it childhoodOr more, I try to find myself before certainTimes and events, I try to find what was in myHeart and what I wanted for myself then,


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What were my distractions, routes did I takeIn that same process what did I forsake and whyWhy is the root question, why did I make the decisions?That I did, it seems to me it always had to doWith being hidor adapting a new identity so I could

Leave the past behindsometimes what I thought wasMoving forward was simply another decline.I thank God for every thing in my life for he isThe one who helps me to decide where I willGo in life and how to take the ride.I close my eyes and rest with my thoughtsClearing my head feels the best after allImagined worries, imagined fears GodWill help me sift through all the yearsThe people who have come and goneWith the memories good and badI

Now put them in different contexts andPerspectives to see what it was I really hadOften it was just nave perceptions of howI thought and wanted it to besometimes IWould bail out which I was more inclinedTo do, but somehow things seemed to be theSame after a whilebut toughing it out inAn unhappy environment never seemedFor me the right routeGod thank you for my parents as my gift in this lifeThank you for my new perspective above all thatI love and respect myself because I could not liveWithout meinstead of seeking out the love and joyIn people and places, all the people and places of myPast are part of my feelings which are just that mine.So whether it is love or dislike all those feelingsOf mine gather into a feeling bank that I thoughtHad more withdrawals than deposits, but now IRealize that all those feelings have always beenMine and nothing was ever lost.I now can lookAt those feelings from my feeling Bank andReexamine what they truly are now, right here, today.God thank you for this life you have given meThank you for my brothers, oh and especially Gary, whoWe all had a part of. He was the angel in the familyGod you had a better place then we could seeGod my life is in your handsI want to thank thee


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down and feel the embracelet the fountain rise up and go where it may, let the fountainrise up and you will be dismayed.from your inner and most outer universes arecombinedintertwined they are so divineopen and close the shutters over themtestit expose itdesensitize themcling and let go, be on stand bylet it take you for arideto what place and in what amount of time is an unknown in this process just

stand your ground.the answers will come someday when the moment is right just likepicking a fruit when ready and ripe

Funny Bunnies

I have two bunnies one is small and tanThe other is large and white with big


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black spots all over her she is aBig Mama he is little and older

When it is nap time or just to take aSnooze, little Mellow Fellow pre-

-pares to snuggle his nose in herRolls of white hair

His face partially hidden withHairs covering his tanHe settles down into a comfortLandwith Spot towering overLike a mother hen, strong and largeWith her nose wiggling up and downTo no end. Her nostrils flaring at just aboutany soundcuddles with Mellow

Fellowcuddle and soothhewill just sit and share his snuggleswith you

Gincarlamy Best Friend

Cultured, historian, social, gentle and sweet nurturer this is GincarlaShe reminisces about the oceanside with her large brown soulful eyes articulating the pastfluid and exact.


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we are in the box without our skin we will be alone except for the soul that bids usfarewell to God and hopefully not the hell hole?

Thin, in a bin, think about it my friend, this is what happens in the endso why speed upthis process, even though life is painful, why speed up the thin skinned consequence of

our being. Thin, what does it really mean after all? Why do we venture to be so small?The world is bigger than ourselves so why shrink away but rather embrace with all ourenergy that needs endless nourishment to accept the gift of life.

Thin.

At This Time

Finding my realityScribbling in the void


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I love you God; I cannot wait for that day for when I will transcend the earth and float upto that ray.

My life story.

I want to write about my life, a book I say, it will happen one dayThe book of lessons and the searching of the soul.take this ideaand place it on the paperit is all an illusion and dreamy in its own wayWhat is it that we all have to saymy life storyideas pop like a popcorn maker head?


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Pop, pop, pop inside my head

Life is time in a space we have had reserved to experience our life as a chapter in theuniversal bookmy life story should be told before it gets sucked into the Black HoleI cling to this life in desperation, yet want results to happen in my way and fashion

contradictionsgo this or that waycontradictions take us away.

Life is to be figured out with the wisdom of the power abovelife, wisdom and lovetake this time to live your life, take mental notes, hopefully one day you will figure itoutput it on paperkeep it close to your heart.your perception of yourself is for youto tell, even with the mirror we all have to yell.say it and keep it in your heart and inyour headsay I am part of this life whether we can laugh or crythis life is in ourhead then the universe after we die.

Life

My Ivory Kitten

I look upon my ivory kitten and feel soft and cozy. She has a little opened mouth and twoholes as her nose. Eyes closed her long eyelashes flow down; she has a dreamy look andnever a frown. Little gold trimmed scarf with large perfect bow. She sits in her snugposition and I can hear her purr. This little soft kitten does not have mittens but she use


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to have cream inside her belly. As a child I would put my mouth over hers and drink itup---I know thats silly. My ivory kitten.

Energy.

Energy grabs and grips you like a suction into the universesynchronize thyself withthis energylet it work for youlet it guide youenergy takes away waste of pastdaysfull with life for all that awaits, full of lifeenergy and strife


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Energyturn my head to each side, turn my head dont take me for a rideround andround the head will go always follow with a blow. Energyturns my intestines insideout like a roller coaster circling about. Fuel the spirit which needs the creative energyfrom abovethis creative energy we call love

My Parents have both given me my two eyes and two ears; my mouth that can open withwords that can hurt or heal; the brain between my ears with the strain for all it wants tobare; thank you mom and dad for all the care. I have wept at my mistakes, I haveapologized for them for heavens sake; now I know I have peace in my heart because I


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know you have heard me and see what I am. I love you mom and dad bless you both forholding my hands. The training wheels have to come off at some time in life; as youknow there is a never ending strife. Here I go with a push from you both and a lot ofgusto.

Personality

Sensory, vision, personhood too. Sensory, vision abracadabra come true. A few drops ofthis and a few drops of thatmix and stir and you will see a personality growth beyondyour belief. No tricks, no pranks, life pulls and tugs at this aspect of us.how will itplay out, what will be the result. In the context of culture, community and friends, how


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will one form this aspect of them? Is it the true self, what is meant to beacceptance,profoundness what is truly the keyI just want to find me

Objectivity

Objectivity projects out of me, from my inside it cant hide it escapes mefinally I see.Growing older, wiser too, objectivity is in plain and clear viewAbstract and tangled yet there it lies in front of meMaybe one day I will see me with this objectivity


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Mundane and meaningful

I want to write, I finally see, I want to write poetry,The meaningful and the mundane in my life has inlater years surfaced with all my tearsMundane and meaningful I want to hold you close to meAll the knick knacks, scraps of notes, even little toys that float


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I want to inspect each one and scan for the years, the feelings, the fearsEach atom and each inch I just want to pinch and say this is mine andhold on to it for sometime

My Mother.

My mother is strong as the oak tree stands, limbs and leavesSurround its body stuck on her trunk they are randomlyPlacedsome wither and fall to the ground, others shoot upAnd out of its round baseall the branches and leaves haveEyes and cryseeing all around, up and down


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My mother is sweet like a butter mintshe stays andlasts coated on yousealed with an unselfish pointof view... right next to her children as a pro-tective seal.

My mother is soft like a caramel chewlight color tanShe can see herself and us throughlong lasting,Sticking and adhering as if she could never goaway.

My mother is proud as a white headed eagleMajestic and sturdy she stares life in the faceLooking all around to protect and embraceHer feet are firmly locked into placewhenIt comes to her children there is no question

As what to do; she will stand and hold ontothe tree branches no matter how few oreven if she is in view.

My mother is wise like the owl with large eyesStaring and caring she watches on alertOne eye open and one eye shut if need beBut mother will be there up in that tree forall to see.

My mother is love that grabs you in your middleFirmly taking you through lifes strifeCooking at home, or making the beds, she hasDone it as if a higher voice comes through her and channelsTo us as we are set loose in our worlds toFind our dreamsshe is always waiting behindThe scenes.

Books

Books..Alice, Khalid..books they comfort me.as a student they would feel myarms with hope and challenge.Books


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Kneading and relieving.

There once was a large hole in the center of my being, it would come and go at darkmoments most revealingnow, it came to me, fulfillment with claythe calling of theclay pottery wheel I have been so meaning to fulfillhas now come to fill the hole in me.


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Yes, right above my navelI can imagine the clay...on the pottery wheel each and everydayI can create what I want and place my hands in the clayI can knead my tummy insome most unusual and different ways.the bulk of who I once never knewis there inall the folds in the center of me nicely fulfilledknead away I doloving my bodywith massages through and through.so now the days of contemplating my navel have

revealed to me something that allows me to feel secure and ablethis is the bulk ofmemy identity. it is what I chose and choose to bewatch my identity go round andround on my tummy so warm and sound.identity, me, all my stuff you see, I now cancreate and recreate to whatever I want it to beI am happy

HAPPY 23RD ANNIVERSARY TO JITENDRA8/10/08

Dear Jitendra, I love you and thank you for all you have done and given to me. Myparents always say what a good husband I have. As I am writing this anniversary letter toyou, I envision my holding your beautiful face in my hands as God beams a light on us


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for this very special occasion. May God give you all that you desire and deserve in thefuture? In particular, I wish you good health, happiness and good assets. In that order.

I now envision my putting my head over your heart and listening for any hidden andsubtle meanings that may surface for my ears. Lastly, I want to place my eye to your

navel and see what our future may be in my minds eye. I remember saying that we areconnected by our navels whatever the significance may be of the naval and the heart inall lands and all peoplesyours and mine have these 23 years of roots that have beennurtured and thrived under Gods watching eye

They say the symbols of the star with its five points are the senses of manthank you forfilling my five senses with your love, support and guidance. Your Indian essence hasmade a prolific impact on me.sensual you are, loving you are, wise you are and brightyou are just like the five pointed shining starI love you now and forever.

Lovingly, Natalie Ann Singh

Anger is in me.it feels like a cord that is being twisted around and around in anynumber of ways. It feels like my center is crushing and churning this anger until mybody and mind and every cell in my being can make sense of it and destroy it.as itcomes out my tension facilitates between being very uptight to being relievedanger isin meI want to choke the anger but it needs to somehow flourish and be a part of who Iamit cannot disappear but it can subside and be pacified just like an inconsolablechildI feel it is childish to have this anger and yet I feel it is necessary to swish itaround in my stomach with its large waves crashing against me.a mighty sea in and of


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itself.I think it is a part of who I amI want to hold the anger and never let it go andtell myself I am rightI have the right to be mad and it is okit is a monster in mystomach that growls and lashes out.let the waves beat against my body.to let meknow never again..then to playfully cast it aside and sayit is okayit is not so biga dealit swells, yells and tells the dark side of me.anger I want to keep you and

make peace with youangerbe my friend and lets talk about it.lets hold hands andfeel together.anger you are my baby and I am yours..comfort me and say I have aright to my feelings and anger.then we can curl up together and tuck ourselves in untilthe next rage begins

Pie

Take the butter and begin to flutter, flutter, flutter, flutter.this is where the baked goodscome inthis is where the baked goods come to puff up under the thumb.puff and puffthey will all be readylove baked goods and just enough so be ready.that buttery tasteand the pie with the flakesput a knife into the pie and slice it and make it ready to flyhighwould you like to fly on the pie.way, way, way up high.fly way up high


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stand on your toes.hold on to the string right below..look under the pie.is itbrowned and round.does it have glaze from under and around.to soak up the pieput ice cream on top of the pie.drizzled with glazesugary and creamy, gooey andglazed. Let the steam come out and fill the room with hazeprolific and sweet andwarm soft dough.when you see little childrens faces look upon this new baked pie.

their eyes light up with surprise..can you see the pie and the little childrens eyes. .

A Poem for Gabriela

As I reflected on my past I found my friend Gabriela through a looking glass.she haslong dark hair and rosy red cheeksshe speaks different languages and I just think she isneat.this South American beauty with wisdom before her timeblew a strong warmbreeze into my life that was so fine I did not know just how much I loved her soBestrong she would say with her warm Latin waysI am your friend was like she spoketo my heartshe had broken through the pain and the dark.I missed her all these years


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and knew she was really dear.she had to be because when she left a part of me wenttoo and yet another part just grew.the years have now passed and I have now finallyfound my friend through a looking glass.what do I see and what do I feel.the SouthAmerican culture shining on my northern world with wisdom, courage, strength andpeace I give thanks to God above and pray he keeps me and Gabriela forever in touch.

I love Gabriela.

By N. Ann Singh

A Dedication to my husband Jitendra K. Singh

My Beautiful Mind

My gentlemen love, my sensitive man. Throughout our relationship you have alwaysheld my hand. My sounding board that I bounce and dance off of my love, my love.


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Your civil behavior and concern for the better of the whole inspires me and helps makeme who I need to be. I would not be if it were not for youmy gentlemen lovethrough and throughyou express and persevere with eloquent ideas and words. Youprovide a path for me never knowing exactly where it will lead; yet, being secured andsound I always feel I am on strong and sturdy ground. my love, my love, we have

gone through a lot of mines. The mines, mountains, and valleys in our life we have gonethrough all this time. I feel so thrilled that we are together still; you are exactly you;You are my beautiful mind my sounding board; the one I can pound, whine, fly to,dance with, and celebrate all at the same time.

My Beautiful Mind

Innocence is reflected in the mirror

I am walking with my mirror to see the ceilingI look in the mirror at the ceiling and I lift myFoot over the door way frame

Watch your step, am I upside down or


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Right side up, watch your step, watch yourstep.

The ceiling has a smooth surface it isa cream color and is fascinating

I could walk with my mirror overthe doorway frame around thelight fixtures again and again

Fascinating, intriguing, exploringas a child, reflections in the mirrorI see, I see, I see so clearI see in the mirror a differentangle without any fear

No fear to walk on the ceiling

No fear to look in the mirrorExplore from my safe homeWith my dear mother near

Innocence is reflected in the mirror

I have a different kind of writingIt is off beat and off centerIt helps me to keep warm thoughtsIn the dead of winter

The writing I do is from me to youThe writing I can see is from my


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heart in just a breezeI swept the poetry from outUnder the rugwhat myselfand I think everyone elseneeds lots of love and big

hugs

Write in a frenzywrite away mymelancholy wayswrite from thebeginning to the end of my daysI think you can hear, I think I cansense that the most to fear isbeing of offensebe protectivebe open run through the grassbarefoot if you willclimb a treeclimb a hillknow your way around

The block.tick tock tick tock as Iwatch the clocklife goes on andon in its waytick tock our spiritsare here to staychase the reasonfor the insanity and the madness

Keep every day in light and freeof sadness.but if sadness is thecloud that covers the rays of heatthen take the sadness like a blanketfor when you feel weakseethat the blanket is tightly wrappedAround you so that you canbe assured that you have foundYou.

We all need a lot of love and hugs

In the night when the pain of the abuse still lingers in flightRecall the flash of the light that questions the bruise and frightThe pain in your heart and the pain in your chest wherein liesThe wreckage of old loves lost at best

Take aside the treasure chest with all its wealth and jewelsPick it up and sift threw all the illusions and reality of fools.For one may find after all the questions have stood in lineThe little piece of reality that will give you peace of mind


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It will help you to see clear what you hold so dear

Pick up the pieces, the coins and the rocksThat lie in sunken places that are darkJust pick up the rocks and pieces of the past

Sift throw them again and again until you find at lastThe one thing that will take you to the answer youseek

The one thing that will take you so that you falldown on your kneesFall down in prayer and fill yourself with the lighthealing will take place in the middle of the nightPeace

Misty is the hole.Mist is in the hole, it is all that is left to soothe my soulMist is in the hole, the one that is in my centerOpening up wide and bold.Mist is in the hole, waiting for the time when it can be

Healed and whole just like the black hole that in the past has swallowed me upIt seemed forever to last..

Mist is in my hole, clinging ever so gently to the sides like


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dew drops on blades of grass waiting to roll down itstender shaft

Mist is in the hole, comfort me and my soul.the thick and heavyhaziness is there for the opening that hopefully will soon

Close.

Mist is in the holecling to me as I cling to you until my soul is lostNo more.mist is in the hole.Lonely mist cling to me.as I cling to you

Happy Birthday Mother 10/9/07

My mothers composure ..what is in a mother to stay and endure all the otherfits,tantrums, screaming and rage.mother gets it at her and in her way.we all love youmotherwe could not have done anything without you.we all love you so much I wishI could be more like you.strong, unspoiled, soft spoken and keen.we love the wayyou cared so much for us throughout these years.meals at your home wherever youwere.you dropped everything and put us first..for me, personally, I could neveraccomplish what you have done in my life as you have in yours.endurance, strength,recovery and more.I do not think I could have as much strength as you have all theseyears.with lifes battles you simply endured even when faced with all your fears


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Jitendra my love from a far has enabled me to reach for the starsthe same that guidedand led Pablo among so many others for so long

I love Jitendra after sailing on the Chilean breeze in Pablos ship the universe embracedmethe funny, whimsical collections left for us to interpret I would guess.

Hit the deckset the sails my love boat Jitendra so buoyant and steadfast I know he ismy love and I he for neither one of us would launch this ship without both of us on it

Jitendras Birthday Poem: 11/2006

Weathering the storms and enjoying sunny, bright daysI hope today brings you goodhealth and ease of any pain.

You are becoming even more senior and so dear to my heart. We are both growing likethe trees in Kahlil Gibrans poem.

As the wind blows and we huddle in one ball so we shall enjoy our summer season on thebeach of life just like a beach ball. Bouncing and rolling without any plan, bouncing and


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rolling along the sand. The sacred sands that have the ancient wisdom of life aboundaround us to support all our strife.

We have built a castle in the sandy shores; we have had several and continue to buildmore. Even when the shore washes over our castle made of sand. Our spirits will be

united through the time we have had on the land.

Continue to hold my hand and I will continue to hold yours. Twirl me through this lifeand I will twirl you for sure. Lets continue our dance, lets continue to prancejust liketwo children along the sunny, sandy shores of life.

I am proud you are my husband and I am proud I am your wife.

I love you with all my heart through our struggles throughout this life. I feel very secureand now know what stability is. What a decent, sensitive and responsible person I havenext to me.

May you live a long and healthy life just as the trees do with leaves and fruit to start anewwith both our nurturing and love, we shall get through.

I love you.

S..White in light blue he held me like an unarmed baby. Never had I felt so delicate orraresomehow I felt a new experience upon meno one before had said he would neverleave meeven when I got old and grayhe said this while caressing in a movie theatrewith his face not far away. Yes, a different culture, yes a different viewhow nave Iwas to think I could believe such words and feel them too. I love you Natalie. He heldme in his arms while I lay across the bedI never thought that I would be accepted.Never heard those words before, never dreamed I wouldwe both did the best we could.


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S..Strongly he stands with his head held high, long black hair and mysterious glare. Hismind wonders throughout which most do not dare. Someone is calling him, someone

who cares. No power you see as a light or a flare but truth and beauty that stronglystands broken heart with society and all of man.

Don the Dung Beetle and His Big Brown Ball5/3/06

Life is like a Dung beetle, some times life gets ahead of you and you are running afterit. Sometimes life is behind you and chases you. It may roll on top of you and squashyou. Some times it is under your feet and you may feel like you are on top of the world.


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Any way you look at it, life is what you make it and mold it to be. It is your ball ofstuff you deal with it. By Ann Singh

China Dream Experience

The long wall gracefully curved and hugged the mountains with all the history in place ifonly it could talkwhat it would say. As I stood on top of steps my big dream hadcome true. I was standing on the Great Wall of China for the entire world to see. Me, atthe Great Wall.weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

The adopted china babies with their dark brown eyes and black hair looking up andaround at all the families who care. They were now being given to loving homes andarmsGod be with them in their new homes.


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Oodles of noodles, rice and beans, tofu, bok choy (mmm one of my favorite greens).Watermelon at every meal, sticky rice just eat your fill. Loved the Chinese food 24/7Congee with pumpkin and buns with beans.all the food you could eatthis was part ofmy dream.

With towers shiny and tall they stick straight

my eclectic life and the search for spirituality

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