Saturday, December 12, 2009

My Dad

Last week would have been my dad's 69th birthday.
He passed nine and a half years ago, and I miss him still.
I have days when I wish I could talk to him.  For differing reasons, some days to ask what I was like as a child and sometimes just to find out the name of an actor or a movie. 
I have moments when I wish I could share a movie or some music with him.
I miss his laugh.
I regret the way things were at the end.
I carried so much guilt, even though he and I were both wrong. 
I loved the way my dad interacted with children.  He was funny, and really listened when most adults didn't.
I love him for sharing his love of football, golf, jazz, books and learning.  My dad had a respect for my inquisitive spirit.  He taught me that it was ok to ask questions and look for answers--no matter what the subject.
My Daddy wasn't my hero, not exactly.  I had no misconceptions about who he was.  I knew he cheated on my mom, hadn't graduated school, got into trouble as a kid, started smoking in elementary school...I could go on but it doesn't matter.  He was my Daddy.  I loved him even though I did not like some things.  I loved him and felt that he loved and understood me...until I came out.
Still, I miss him.
I miss him still.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009


I know
you love me
but loving without
is like
20 Nov 2009

Sunday, November 1, 2009

The Dark

I hate the dark. 

No, it's not the same as being afraid of the dark.  Though, I am a little afraid of it too (nervous smile).  I breathe a little easier once I reach the lamp.  I am relieved to see everything is as I left it and no one uninvited is waiting.

That is not what I mean here.  I hate being alone in the dark, with nothing to see, hearing nothing, feeling nothing.  I hate the sensory deprivation. 

I am sensual.  I need to see.  The painter in me caresses things with my eyes.  I enjoy following the line of a face, hand, shoulder with my eyes.  By the time I put my hand out to touch, I feel an anticipation and excitement that I cannot explain.  I enjoy calculating the amount of french ultramarine I would need to add to prussian to get the blue of your shirt.  I enjoy feeling skin next to my own.  I like looking at clothing and by being able to hear and see it, knowing what it will feel like.  I like the feel of a warm hand on the small of my back.  I like the warmth it generates up and down my spine.

I like to hear love in my lover's voice.  Sometimes I am less sophisticated and need the love spoken and spelled out. 

Don't get me wrong, I am not selfish.  I like to give as I wish to receive.  I like to wear soft fabrics to make one wonder if it can even compare to my soft skin.  I like to say what feels good to my body, to my heart, what looks good to my eye.  I like to share what makes the sensations I am living in any moment special. I try to make sure that the people I love know that I do and why I do.

Well, I am not completely selfish because I do want it back. 

I like being called baby or honey or something sweet that says I am cherished.   If someone thinks there is something special about me I would love to know it.  It might just make me walk on clouds all week.  The payback is that I will want to do something to make them feel the same way.  I like to be held as one does precious things.

I  love having my face touched and kissed.  I love it.  In all honesty I love being touched and kissed all over. I try my best to give as good as I get.

I love being held or told I was thought about.  I especially like to know I was missed.  I want to be flirted with and romanced.  I want to be loved back.  I am happy to cook, massage, or run a bath and I feel cherished when those things are done for me.

I like to smell the people I love. (Blushing)  I do.  I always sniff my grand daughters and even my daughter, but don't tell her.  It comforts me.  I don't expect that from anyone else, but if there is something about me that brings comfort it would be beautiful to know.

So, sitting in the dark without any input of touch, sight, taste, sound, or smell is literally painful for me.  It literally hurts me.  I do not know how to not touch the people I love.  In my mind no touch is no love.  If love is felt, sometimes it should be spoken.  Life is too short to not have, show, bring, or feel passion, and if you aren't passionate about the one you are with maybe that says all that it should.

This is not somewhere I can stay.
My spirit cannot thrive in the dark.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

storm indigo, kind of blue

You are as blue as this name would indicate.  Indigo, the deepest blue, the black of blues.  A storm of the blackest blues.  Sad and lonely, vulnerable and alone.  

This kind of blue sneaks up on you.  It's not like you enter a room knowing this particular tempest awaits.  No one would do so knowing her wily ways.  No.  This kind of blue is seductive.  She starts out as the most faint hue of blue,barely a whisper.  It's overlooked, thought to be a lack of sleep or a busy schedule.  As she becomes baby blue, though you see her, she's thought to be just a momentary glitch.  After you get some rest this weekend and eat better, you'll be as good as new. 

She chuckles at your hubris.  She is amused, wondering how long it will take for you to realize her beautiful depths, how long before you realize who's in charge.  As she turns to a brilliant blue, you still won't acknowledge that you are beginning to lose the race.  Though you are wondering if you still have a prescription.  By now she's wrapped herself around your chest. 

You awaken to find that you have neither the strength nor the desire to get out of bed.  You realize that the whisper of blue has become a prussian toned system limiting your visibility and scattering everything you worked hard to plant. Powerless, you just lay in bed wondering how you got there.  How did you get so weak?  When did she get so strong?

And after many weeks, maybe today is the day?  The sky is the blackest of blues and it's only 1 P.M.  The wind sounds like a train heading over a cliff.  The sky has become a cloud, and the cloud is reaching for you.  She has enclosed you, squeezing while you gasp helplessly.  The vicious cloud is smashing all that you are; destroying all that you have. 

No one around you seems to notice; everyone else is enjoying the sun.

Where will you land this time?

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

The Power of Touch

   My granddaughter, when she hasn't seen me for more than a week, gives me a big hug and then looks directly into my eyes with her little hands on each side of my face.  Then she smiles at me and puts her forehead on mine.  We usually kiss each other on the cheek and hug a little longer.  She's three.

   When I have not seen my granddaughter for more than a week, I find myself looking forward to her hug.  I look forward to her always, but she is the only one who touches my face.  I find myself missing her touch.  I find myself missing the way she looks right into my eyes.  The way she looks at me and says 'I missed you Mama".  A touch and eye contact; powerful stuff. 

    It amazes me that sometimes if I don't see her for three or four weeks, I ache for her to touch my face.  I miss her intense hug.  I am blessed abundantly to have her.  I am more myself with her around me.  I am greatful for everyone that I love.  My family of origin as well as my family of choice are all important to me.  As it is for most everyone.   It is another of the things that make us more alike than different.

Big Hug.

Friday, September 25, 2009

The Pull Towards Water

I often feel myself pulled toward water. I am fortunate enough to live near Lake Erie. While it's not the most glamorous location, it is a luxury to be near water. I find myself driving to the lake whenever I feel the need for strength greater than my own. If I have been knocked down, feel down, anxious, or just need to think I find myself at the Lake. I have loved being at the Lake since I was in high school. One year our Retreat was at a high school with grounds along the shore. It was a windy fall day. Between the wind, the mist, and the power of the water I was hooked. To this day, I cannot imagine living in a city without a large body of water.

I have been feeling lost lately. Overwhelmed and lonely, I went down to the lake. There is something amazing about being next to such power. The lake makes me feel small and frail. It makes me see myself in perspective--compared to the world. And while it did help me gain a little perspective, I only magnified my loneliness and alone-ness. I feel so disconnected from everyone that I love. This time the lake gave me a guage with which to measure my own depths.

Praying for Peace

The Kindness of Strangers

The kindness of strangers is so often a blessing. It is another proof of goodness, truly Godliness in this world. This is a great thing. Seeing how beautifully we louse things up with the people we know, it's good to know that there are strangers who are willing to help.

The beauty of being a stranger is that when the opportunity to be kind presents itself, we decide based on our own compass, without having to factor in the degree of the damage we've already taken.

Thursday, July 30, 2009

My Love For You

My body vibrates with love for you.

My eyes dance over you whenever I see you. From your eyes to your lips, and then your hands.

My arms long to hold you close to my body. I want to hold you close enough to smell you and taste you.

My hands cannot rest until I touch you. Your head and face; your arms and hands. You.

My breasts ache for your mouth, your touch.

My legs reach for you in the night. Wanting to wrap around you, keeping you close to me. Keeping you inside me.

When I think of you, my honey begins to flow. I am distracted and hungry to touch, smell, and taste you.

My love for you is real and true. It encompasses every thing. This desire for you is deep and makes me yearn for you every day.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

How to Warm Up After a Snow Storm

It seemed that most of the snow storms hit overnight while she was working. This one started while she was driving to work. Now, at six in the morning, she had to rock her car out of the foot of snow that had built up around it.

It was cold out. She was even colder after scraping the snow and ice off the car windows. Her little car slid most of the way home. Alex was patient. The advantage of trying to get home at this time of the morning is knowing that her work day is done and she can relax and try to get home safely. She watched out for everyone else though. They were trying to rush to work, even though there was no safe way to rush with the roads full of this packed snow. She called it cookie dough. It was like cookie dough, the snow on the roads; rough and lumpy enough to make most vehicles slide.

Her usual commute was 20 minutes. Today it took over an hour to get home, and another 15 to make it into the driveway. She parked and made her way into the side door. She left all her snow dampened clothing hanging in the hall. In the kitchen, she started water for tea then went into the living room and turned on the TV. It felt that she'd never thaw out.

She went into the bedroom to change out of her uniform and realized that her lover was still in bed. She looked at the covers crumpled onto her side of the bed, and felt the breeze from the open window. Her love always slept with the window opened. She watched her sleeping peacefully. Her love was usually awake before now. It must have been a restless night. The bed was a testament to it.

As she watched her sleeping. She thought of all the times she wanted to come home to someone. She thought of all the laughter they shared, the dinners they ate, their long conversations and even their quiet moments. She thought of all they shared and how she could not imagine her life without her. With each warm thought, her body thawed.

She went back downstairs and turned off the TV and the kettle. Upstairs in their room, she laid down behind her love, kissed her shoulder and held her tight. She couldn't remember ever feeling this warm before.

Friday, June 5, 2009


Wrap me in your light and feed my heart with love.
Blanket me with all that is pure and beautiful.
The universe embraces me with joy as bright as the sun.
I am loved at the speed of light for evermore.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

This Is Not Lust

New Poem, your feedback welcome...

This is not lust
Wanting to taste, feel, please
Every inch of you.
It is not simply carnal
The desire to tease and be teased
As much as I want to love and be loved.

This is about love
The kind that makes me
Run you a bath,
Learn to cook your favorites,
Sleep in your pajamas.
I want to love and be loved
Until you can feel my heart
Through my fingers, my tongue, my lips.
No, Baby, this could never be as simple as lust.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

To Dread or Not to Dread, That is the Question

I have been locked for 8 years and 8 months. I love my locks. I think they say something about both my strength and my vulnerability at the same time...this is probably only apparent to me. Even in my off-beat, self-indulgent, self-expression, there is the understanding that I am reaching out to the Universe, to God, and begging that the Almighty touch me. It is at once a statement and a prayer.

That is the most articulate way that I have to explain without non-verbals, like touch. This is not just a 'hairstyle'. It is a prayer. As my writing is a prayer, as my paintings are/were prayers.

9 years ago, I could not open a magazine or look at an inviting, smiling face, without seeing dreadlocks. It seemed that the Universe itself was willing me in this direction. Now, I do not feel that connection. I do not feel that pull. It is a prayer that while I cannot, truly will not say is unanswered---I will say that today it feels like a desperate plea. It seems to be a yearning that is still unfilled.

Much like the caress that never comes from a lover. That moment one hopes for when a lover, the one that you pray is THE ONE, opens the door/window/wall/whatever and lets you know that your loving, praying, cooking, sexing, crying, wanting and waiting is not in vain. That moment that lets you know that who you are is more than just 'OK'. That lets you know that they won't be the same if you leave. There is a longing unanswered when that moment does not come.

Although I love my locks, I still long for that moment. That caress from the Universe, that cradle of comfort, peace, healing. So selfish, I know but 'every living thing wants to be loved'(Shug Avery, The Color Purple). Although I will always yearn for that caress from the Universe, I no longer feel the need to carry a hairstyle to signal that longing. I just pray that this emancipation from the physical does not set me adrift spiritually or emotionally. One battle that I have to fight is that I think my locks are incredibly beautiful. I think they make people notice me. I cannot imagine what I will look like without them. And the thought of facing a humid summer without them makes me want to cry.


Thursday, March 26, 2009

Smoke Signals

I would love some feedback.

Smoke Signals

Like Tantalus, I will my limbs to yield
With my bending to drink my fill;
With my stretching to taste your fruit.
Water up to my chest, yet drowning in this desire.

A fleeting glance and my heart swells
With hunger; and your voice whets my appetite;
With desire as your spirit sends smoke signals to mine.
Your vision ingrained, I hunger for your touch.

Like a wildfire, with you for air
Only an ocean would make me yield;
Only a tornado could quiet this flame.
Fully consumed, this body burns for you.

Like tender flint, under your hand
Gentle touches spark rousing flames;
Confident strokes ignite these walls.
You have set this house ablaze.

Barely a spark, here in the dark
My heart led here, a moth to your flame;
Your soul led to me, an ancient spirit quest fulfilled.
These smoke signals forever calling me to you.


Saturday, March 21, 2009

2009, so far

I know I had fallen off the face of the earth for a while. I am not as disciplined as I would like about this blog. So far, I have to say I like 2009. It's not perfect by any stretch, but I like it still.

I am in a good space. I am working on some things that I have wanted to do for myself for a long time. Those things that had to wait until I had raised my daughter. Actually, I have a whole shopping list and I have to figure out what to do first. This is a great spot to be in.

The New Year did bring with it some old insecurities that need to be addressed. I try to tell my loved ones that that's what they are. I miss my granddaughter every day, I tell her so. I worry about my daughter, but I am proud of her and I tell her. I am in love. That is it's own posting; I had given up. What is difficult for me is sometimes I push too hard rather than just accepting people for who they are and being patient. When I am patient, I get the most beautiful gifts. When I am impatient and concentrate on what I need, I only see things as half empty. I am trying to keep this in mind so that I do not keep tripping over it. It is not easy. I have probably talked about this very thing before.

One of the people I just love having in my life--even though she has been M.I.A. lately-- is my best friend. We just 'click'. A little over a year ago, the people I met were just so shabby that it was laughable. I started to wonder what was wrong with me. Then I decided that I would just be by myself for a while. I had actually gotten comfortable with that thought. She knew I was done before I had ever said anything. She knew it and read it on me before I ever spoke it. I appreciate that she understood how frustrated I was and was supportive. It's one thing to not meet 'that someone' but to really not meet people that I was even interested in calling...ugh. I love having a friend that understands not just the surface, but the ripples and the undertow as well. I am grateful for her friendship.

So, a year ago tomorrow, she and I were out at a party and she introduced me to someone she knew. Casual introduction, that I'm her best friend, good people, and love to dance. I knew the first time we danced that I needed to pay attention to this woman. I loved the way her hand warmed my back. I loved how secure I felt. Then, I got nervous while dancing with her. I never get nervous when I meet people. I called her that next morning, Easter Sunday. That conversation was relaxed, easy, and I have been calling back for the past year.

Being in love is good for my health. Her love is incredible. She's relaxed, laid back, and confident. I have never before been nervous about a relationship. I may be excited or over it. In love or not; never nervous. Anxious to get it right. Afraid that my cooking is not good enough, that my house is never clean enough, that I am not enough. That I am not enough. I have never before wanted to be complete in who I am, or more. She makes me want to be my best for her. Not because she is demanding or judgemental or harsh; she's none of that. And, because she is not any of those things, because she's wonderful to talk to, understanding, caring, and incredible, I want to be all of that for her.

I am so grateful that I thank God for blessing me with someone that is unphased by my dark humor, or sarcasm. I suspect that she's tired of where my insecurities take me...but somehow she weathers it. (In my defense, I had been on the wagon since early summer). I can be such an ass. She knows that too, and she's still here.

Yes, so far 2009 is alright.


Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Looking for a rockin babe!

I grew up listening to all types of music. I love R&B, soul, even country. My grandmother had a thing for Charlie Pride, oh my goodness, you just had to see her. I liked rock. I heard this band called Living Color. I fell in love. It was rock. They were awesome. The guitarist, Vernon Reid is PHENOMENAL, and the lead singer, Corey Glover, well he was just fantastic.

What I loved most was that they rocked harder and better than any band I had ever heard and to top it off, they were black. When I heard their song "Funny Vibe" I knew I would be a fan for as long as they were around.

The only thing that would have been better for me would have been to see a black female guitarist. I longed for that. To see a black woman just rockin' out. Oh my goodness.

The closest I have gotten over the years has been Meshell Ndegeocello. And, wow is she just fantastic. But, I am still looking.

When I was younger, it was one of those things that I felt would signal that we had arrived. The other thing was a black president. I never thought I'd see the latter before the former.

Shows what I know.