My Addiction

•December 23, 2013 • Leave a Comment

The moments after it is done,
I am spent and satisfied,
The wider world makes at last,
All is quiet, I am high.

I have emptied out the bottle,
Of the stuff that clouds my mind,
Relieved to have not one drop left,
Spilled on the page I leave behind.

Soon enough it fills back up,
That glass of poisoned brine,
I partake to stop the shakes,
These are the reasons why I write.

– by April Resnick

 

wine typewriter

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘Tis the season for  family and friends, and I am enjoying both.  But, I can already feel the shakes from writing withdrawal.  So I am looking back at this poem.

Posted in Food & Wine, Identity, Poetry, Writing
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11:06pm

•December 22, 2013 • 4 Comments

11:06pm

And again
I am longing, listening, straining to hear your train
Whistle when it once traveled across the tracks
Between buildings and lingered in my bare branches with winter air
Shave and a haircut, waiting for bits, haunting me with
A secret message to a lonely lover or a parentless child
Except that you came to me, fell on my ears, made ME smile
I can’t remember what deal we made
Was I supposed to recognize
Did I forget to answer back
Where are you now that I am settled and ready
For the giddy joy you brought before
Is now replaced with expectation, nothing more
And silence

11:07pm

Night Train 2

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A poem from one year ago, reworked for today, because there are still nights when I find myself waiting to hear that whistle.

Posted in Family, Friendship, Identity, Loss, Nature, Poetry
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Shades of Me

•December 18, 2013 • Leave a Comment

The colors change upon my walls
According to the sun
Is she blocked by clouds today
Or cleared for beaming long

It’s the movement of the weather
Not a static stay or go
That coats my ceiling’s temperament
A chilly grey or cozy gold

There is no way to change them
Only observe or shutter in
So stay and watch these walls with me
Bask in each hue while it exists

— April Resnick

 

sunbeamSunbeam by Hanan Milner

Posted in Family, Friendship, Identity, Marriage, Meditation, Nature, Poetry
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Production

•December 16, 2013 • 6 Comments

I should write
But I exhale
The shoulds whisper
To no avail
I settle in
To home and skin
Until the watch
Begins again

— April Resnick

 

20131216-150713.jpg

Painting by Jack Vettriano

Posted in Body, Family, Identity, Meditation, Poetry, Whimsy, Writing
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Good Enough

•December 11, 2013 • 6 Comments

I do not dress my daughter
In designer name brand clothes
But fairy, Viking, Medusa, cat
I’ve let her dress as all of those

I do not get up early
To fix her breakfast full and warm
But we do clink our milk and coffee
Toasting each day we’re safe from harm

I do not maintain patience
Like Mary Poppins or Maria
But I make time to meditate
I make an effort and she sees it

I do not schedule play dates
As often as I probably should
But she attends my readings, classes, jams
With musicians, writers, artists misunderstood

I do not feed her perfectly
Organic, whole, or sugar-free
But we squish bellies when she’s self-conscious
Loving her skin, she’ll learn from me

I fail more often than I’d like
I am imperfect and I yell
But I model passion and forgiveness
Admit it when I’m wrong, as well

She writes, and reads, and wrestles
So what if she can’t ride a bike
She sees me craft a unique self
If she models that, I’ve done it right

— April Resnick

20131211-111736.jpg

Mother and Daughter with Birds Leaving by Holly Roberts

Posted in Family, Identity, Meditation, Motherhood, Poetry, Writing
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On Our Way

•December 9, 2013 • 3 Comments

A decision was made,

Bundle up and let’s brave,

The ice planet of Hoth.

 

Snow crystals kissing our face,

Tongues out checking the taste,

Slight hint of mint muddled water.

 

We left our hearts and our names,

And some footprints of games,

In the soft crunchy slosh.

 

Not a cold hurried fate,

But a walking play-date,

Between mother and daughter.

 

– April Resnick

 

SnowSketchBook

Hand Painted Sketchbook by Carla Francesca Castagno

 

 

Reposted because it fits the weather today, and our walk to school.

Posted in Family, Motherhood, Nature, Poetry, Whimsy
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Fear

•December 1, 2013 • 3 Comments

It is real
Anxieties gather in my gut
I feel them churning
I hear their chatter
Making plans out of my fears
They worm their way in all directions
Northbound
They burrow in my brain
Whisper failure in my ears
They drip warmly from my nose and eyes
Then prickle, bead, and bubble from my pits
Some of them bolt and make a beeline
Straight up my esophagus
With an unexpected urgency
The rest of them hunker down and turn
Southbound
With parasitic precision
They compel me
To run towards relief
But I stay seated and feel the battle
Rage inside my body and mind
Soon with surprise I find
Reinforcements shoring up my spine
My wormy nerves are calmed
And I am brave again
Until next time

— April Resnick

raw nerve 2

Raw Nerve 2, by Julie Lawless

So apparently “new stuff” happens, just like fear, to spite my best laid plans.

Let’s hope that bravery lingers along with my fear.

Posted in Body, Humanity, Identity, Meditation, Poetry, Writing
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A quick note…

•November 30, 2013 • 2 Comments

…I just want to let everyone, who follows me, know that I am preparing for my first public reading.  Which is why I have been posting less new stuff these days.  I should be back on track after next week.  Until then…enjoy the old stuff.  See you on the flip side.

Much love, April

do_not_follow_by_junestDo Not Follow by Junest on DeviantART

Posted in Family, Friendship, Poetry, Writing

Intimate Season (repost)

•November 28, 2013 • 1 Comment

Spring does not bring change
It simply continues
The constant doing
And undoing of things

If I am to fully let myself feel it
The giddy heady longer days
The forward motion
Of birds, and grass, and sun
I must have thrown myself in
To the depths of winter
Covered in the stings of pelting ice
Or huddled in the dark, hibernation
Of isolation and waiting
While snowdrifts piled outside

I did
I let the seasons in
And let myself be with them

So today I sing and dance
With spring
Because yesterday
I fell with leaves
And let myself
Lay dormant in the drift

— April Resnick

             Seasons_Dilorom_Abdullaeva Seasons by Dilorom Abdullaeva

Reposted for Thanksgiving.

I am thankful for all of the seasons of my life, and for learning to let them in…fully.

Posted in Body, Death, Humanity, Identity, Meditation, Nature, Poetry
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Tedious Bliss

•November 24, 2013 • 2 Comments

There are times the drudge and daily chore,
Do calm me down to spite the bore.
Things in their place and quite wiped clean,
Provide a peace I’ve seldom seen.
It never lingers past the surface, yet,
There are days when menial tasks are worth it.
Not exactly bliss from mindful meditation,
But silly satisfied reprieve from piling up frustration.

— April Resnick

20131124-141014.jpg

Photo by Stephen Swintek/Getty Images

Posted in Family, Marriage, Meditation, Motherhood, Poetry, Whimsy
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