A Voice

•August 28, 2015 • 4 Comments

Dear Readers,

Just a quick note to let you know that three of my poems have been accepted for publication in a rape survivor anthology that I believe will be titled, “Purple Sparks: Poetry by Survivors of Sexual Violence.” It will by out by January 2016.

If you are interested in purchasing it I will keep you updated. All the proceeds will go to a great organization called youthSparks and here is a quick summary about the publication and the program:

“Jennifer Swaim, Deputy Director of the program has this to say about the publication:
youthSpark’s mission is to advocate for children that lack legal and adult protection in abusive and exploitative situations. Our vision is a world where no girl or boy is a product that can be bought, sold, or abused. Purple Sparks is very important to the girls we serve in youthSpark Voices, our intervention program working with youth deemed high-risk for trafficking involvement, because many of them have experienced some form of child or sexual abuse and this anthology provides a different form of empowerment and healing. In addition to having their piece published in the book, the proceeds from this project ​will directly support the program’s daily operations.In the future, youthSpark will expand their services. Funds from this publication will assist with that work!”

I am thrilled to be published, but more than that I am so happy to help an organization that I truly believe is changing our society for the better, that is helping protect our children, that is speaking on their behalf. I am humbled to be a voice that may help in that honorable endeavor.

Poetry & Practice,
April

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Pain

•August 26, 2015 • Leave a Comment

Those ghostly ghastly hands
Tear through my skin and strum
They pluck and play my tendons
Tuning tight these body bands

-a.r.

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Painting by Fernando Vicente

Written in my head some time ago after a painful session of meditation.
While sitting with it, the pain nearly became musical in its ebb and flow.

Late Bloom

•August 20, 2015 • 7 Comments

I am desperate
Like a late-spring dogwood bloom
Browning drooping and dying
I’ll sell you a too sweet scent, sickening
Somebody prune and pick me please
Place me in your pretty little kitchen vase
I have a few gulps of life left in me yet
I promise I will perk right up
These last remaining petals
Delicate but holding tight
Desire one more day

-a.r.

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Photography of a dying dogwood bloom found on callhimyeschef.com

Staircase (revisited)

•August 15, 2015 • 2 Comments

Sometimes
I sit at the top of a staircase
No sacred space but a threshold
No sacred wall hangings but hastily draped and drying towels
No sacred incense but the scent of wood and dust and dampness
And whatever soap I used last to wash my hands
No sacred sounds but the clicking of dog claws on the floor
The world as it moves outside
The sudden ring of a phone, and my breath
As it passes over the hairs in my nostrils
Mimicking this morning the wind that howls through the tops of the trees
No sacred moment, but now or never
A stopping between routine and responsibilities
Before I shrug it off, descend, and start my day
No sacred posture but balancing
Upright just enough to keep me from tipping too far forward
Acutely aware of life, and near disaster, and the forward motion of it all
And another darkened tunnel I will someday face
No sacred schedule but a subtle pull towards stillness
I am content for now to sit silent
To gaze down this century old passageway
To pay attention to whatever comes up
At the top of this staircase

— a.r.

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A photo of my staircase

Reposted because it is still my favorite place to sit still, to be silent, and to pay attention.

A Welcomed Hell

•August 13, 2015 • 2 Comments

I have purposely preserved my voice
As this summer sinks itself to close
My words required more reserve
My stylus only silence spoke
No motion of emotions here
No echo made its way to page
I needed nothing raw to cut my teeth
As waiting has subsumed my rage
I have welcomed sweltering respite
‘Till autumn nestles itself into my nape
When days they die and nights do crisp
A welcomed hell will be released

-a.r.

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Painting: an unfinished oil by Rich Pellegrino

Doing Nothing

•August 5, 2015 • 1 Comment

A day of doing nothing full while
Folding freshly laundered life
And organizing empty chores
Into rearranged and dusty drawers

-a.r.

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Artwork: City of Drawers By Salvador Dali

Adrift

•August 3, 2015 • 2 Comments

I am untethered
A green globe drifting, floating
Party balloon of the gods
A foiled favor gone too far, let go
Having given up the ghost
Denied the host
A proper gift, goodbye
I will not be played with
POP!

-a.r.

Adrift

Painting: Green Balloon by Tonya Engel

Reposted because I seem to be adrift lately, and there is no sign of settling in the near future. POP!

 
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