Unfinished

•February 10, 2014 • 5 Comments

Artist
You transformed me
Turning my asymmetry
From camera flawed
To canvas beauty
Artist
You reached into me
Adjusting my own focus
From pinpoint imperfections
To a broader beauty view
Artist
You reoriented me
Filling out some flat ideal
From perfect picture unattained
To unique beauty breathing
Artist
You unfinished me
Leaving space about my face
For adding off-ness, oddity
To my idea of beauty real, profound
Artist
You included me
In a human portrait library
And made every one of us worthy
Of being painted beauty

— April Resnick

 

20140210-170044.jpg

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A portrait of me (unfinished)
Painted by Elena Drozdova.

Sitting for her was a profound
experience for me. I am looking
forward to finishing the painting.

Posted in Body, Friendship, Identity, Poetry
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Warm Again

•February 8, 2014 • 2 Comments

My fingers and toes are pink again
My cheeks in constant blush
Dear Winter Sir we are not friends
My skin needs Summer’s blazing touch

— a.r.

secret-blush

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Secret Blush by Maria Pace-Wynters

 

Power and heat are back.
I am hoping that others have their power restored soon.
This bitter winter is taking its toll, wishing warmth for all.

Posted in Body, Nature, Poetry, Twitter, Whimsy
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I’m Cold

•February 6, 2014 • 3 Comments

Lots of ice
Little power
Will post more
At a warmer hour

— a.r.

20140206-144854.jpg

For everyone in the NE who are also without power.
Stay safe and warm.

Posted in Nature, Poetry, Twitter, Whimsy, Writing
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Nothing Poetic

•February 4, 2014 • 12 Comments

I was raped when I was 8
Over and over
When I should have been safe
There is nothing poetic here
They always call us crazy
They always deny, say we lie
As recent as last year
I was called a stupid “victim”
By a Buddhist thinker
Who called the memory of my rape
And the flashbacks, my illusions
Symptoms that he called my fault
Nothing new, this sanity assault
I know you’d be more comfortable
If I locked it in my body vault
But I will not
My honesty does not mean
I still feel like a victim
It simply relays the truth of
What he did to me when I was,
And he did, and I was 8
And now I fight, and I heal, and it’s real
And I say clearly this is me
Because brutes and blind society
Cannot scare or quiet me
Ever again

— April Resnick

20140204-130949.jpg
8 year old me

Posted in Abuse, Body, Family, Humanity, Identity, Meditation, Poetry, Women's Issues
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(i) Love

•February 3, 2014 • Leave a Comment

Last night my lover spoke of math,
And the theories of Lacan,
To loose the heart of me.
“You are the symbolic, and the real,
And the (i) imaginary all in one,”
i was near belief and then I laughed.

–a.r.

20140203-172710.jpg
imaginary wandering by SuzyTheButcher
Found on deviantART

Posted in Identity, Marriage, Poetry, Whimsy
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My Life In Memoriam

•February 3, 2014 • Leave a Comment

I let him in
Because she lead the way
Bringing him as close to me as I could bear
A corner stare

He does not dance
But waits, as if we both have time
To afford me this with her while I am able
A minuet of heat too soon unstable

His chill will have its way
One day, his steady slow approach is set
For now she keeps me moving, feigning immortality
As if his ghastly grasp is not already hovering

You see
I had to let him in
To watch, so at the end I could say
I also let her have her way

— A.R.

Dancing with death whole

Reworking of a poem I wrote a few years ago.
All of this grey, and cold, and snow always brings thoughts of death and his steady approach
…all while I still dance warmly with life…
and enjoy it even more because I know he’s there.

Posted in Dance, Death, Humanity, Poetry
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Confident

•February 2, 2014 • 2 Comments

Comfort inside my own skin
An evolving revelation
Comfort with it on display
A phantom ego expectation

— a.r.

20140202-161503.jpg
Donkey Skin by Stuntkid,
Found on deviantART.com

Posted in Body, Identity, Poetry, Twitter
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Crucified

•January 31, 2014 • 4 Comments

Tonight
I willingly nail
Ankles, to cushion, to floor
To find out if I still feel
Only my toes left free
To wiggle like searching worms
For comfort they will not know
Wrists, to thighs, to kneeling bench
To beg relief from emptiness
My fingertips sucking the numb
Neuronal straws like Seconal
From soul, from heart, from mind
Clearing this fog with searing
Cramping heat clamping down
Draining blood from all but vital
Breath, and brain, and notice trained
After hours something small has changed
I tear my limbs from crucifixion
Allow my skin to fill again
And I have learned
From letting in
The pain
To win

–A.R.

cemetery angel red

Photo by Squintphotography on Etsy

Posted in Body, Death, Humanity, Meditation, Poetry
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Fastened

•January 30, 2014 • 4 Comments

Safety pins
Not really safe
Too easily come undone
Like love affairs
With pressure slight
Ignored and they draw blood

-a.r.

20140130-110903.jpg
Prickly II by BrokenFayth on deviantART

Posted in Family, Loss, Marriage, Poetry, Twitter
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An Unsolicited Kiss

•January 29, 2014 • 4 Comments

You say you love the way
It lines my lips with want
And words with favor
Lace my brain
So today I let you finely stitch
Us together with this kiss

— a.r.

20140129-121321.jpg

Painting by Pietro Antonio Rotari

Posted in Body, Marriage, Poetry, Whimsy
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