Inspiration Interpretation

An inkling; a drip a single eraser trail marking what could have been at one point some very important words. Pink polka, left behind secret message telling tales of juice long ago spilled, but ah yes, never forgotten. Hint of green stalk bursting forth from dirty, rocky, grungy swath of land Empty before, sadly lacking excitement Soon to be populated By beautiful blooms. Lone tear casually drips off the end of your nose Silent, gentle reminder That not all is right.

It blows in the wind practically transparent standing up on end it can't be tamed won't be contained.... Your hair so golden in the sun as to almost be translucent the light catching it like fine threads of golden silk glowing radiating the light back at me They tell us it will grow better just cut it, it will... but to part with this piece of you which is so uniquely yours would be stealing a bit of your childhood your babyhood right out from under you. I refuse to be that one. I revel in your crazy hair, your stand on end, do what it wants hair your still-not-a-ponytail's worth of hair your rooster reminder hairdo... your lightest shade of brown duck fluff your tangle of snarls that stick to your head half rubbed off on the back where you sleep, front and bottom and sides so much longer your own style... You had it right from the beginning. I bury my face in it and promise, I whisper to you I'll let it be yours, that infantile oh so precious style, until I can't g...

If I could fly I'd swing myself so high I'd flip Right over the bars, flip, right out into the sky just to watch the shocked eyes when I didn't crash to the ground. If I could fly I'd sprint forward, spring outward FLING myself out off the mountain, off the cliff, OUT into the open air, breathe in that most sacred of breeze the fresh the cool clean crispness of it all turn around, past the eagles, and fly right back to you, wind in my hair. If I could fly I'd hold you tight I'd take you out into the clouds OUT above the rainbows out beyond our eyesight where nothing can touch us Nobody can reach us Nothing could hurt us Being so high, flying away. I'd watch you laugh and cling to me Cling, like you do to my leg when I'm cooking but this would be better so free, you and me. If I could fly I'd float around when my legs got tired toes not touching the ground I'd take advantage of my new skill to replace that most fundamental of exercise. But most of...

Coupons are my crack. I get all sweaty-handed, nervous, pit of stomach lurching like tossing up lunch handing them over, waiting... nervous like a criminal, waiting, like an addict, jonesing- hoping the register won't beep. Won't reject my offer, my credit, my coupon money in my pocket Hoping it won't call attention to me the other shoppers behind me Tsk, tsking... looking over my shoulder, TSK TSK. wondering GOD, HOW MANY DOES SHE HAVE? HOW LONG WILL I HAVE TO WAIT?! I flash an apologetic smile, an I'm sorry in disguise... but I won't back down... I need my fix, you see Like I said, money in my pocket- it's all money, and it's good to me And I am revived, resuscitated, happiness renewed When I see What I get Double, no TRIPLE, sometimes MORE worth my money. I get $105 worth of groceries for a mere $54. I get $27 worth of items ...

Sprout, You are growing up so fast. I feel like lately, I have nothing else to write to think upon to wonder about but you and your exponential growth. It seems like every moment is so fleeting, so gone so fast, so beyond my grasp when we were RIGHT THERE just one minute ago. One second ago, you were just a thought... I remember, sprout holding my belly when times were tough, and we didn't know How we would make this work... We just knew we would. Because you were coming, and it was all up to us. The fight, the struggle, it meant more since you would be here Your Mommy- crying, I remember, couldn't find a job, pounding my head wondering why all of a sudden a growing bump meant I wasn't a good enough secretary I would be out for so long, so soon, nobody wanted it. My degree may as well have been a crumb, I offered it out but it was not taken- Not accepted. I felt rotted, wronged, failed and failing... I wanted to do what I needed to for you- but nobody would give me a chance...

Something makes me falter. Hear my own heart beat. Thump, thump. Thumpthump. Th-thump. My brain has done a skid-slide-stop at this point, to question myself- What if it was me? What then? This is what I have become, and I can say I love it- yes... Though I might be a little bit boring- Not partying, not wearing belly baring, nose flaring, sparkles glaring aloud- just me instead, but me and proud.... My hands find your cheeks, your crumbs, your smile... And I smile back, my teeth not quite perfect white, just light- from the coffee I drink, the things that I think, the nights with late snacks and scratches on backs... What is it that creates who we will become? If I am now mostly a Mum and wife... where exactly was it that I left behind the other life? Have I evolved or just changed, am I still the same breath? Am I still the same laughter, same tears, and same jest? Will I live the same moments? Will I die the same death? Would I have been me if I hadn't had you? If I hadn't me...

I feel like there's an anchor crushing my chest. It's so hard to watch you going through this, to sit by your side and see you suffering, and know that there's nothing I can do to help ease this pain. I can do what I am doing, and nothing more. Nothing more significant. I can listen. I can plan. I can help, do more around the house. I can try to be patient. But some days, like today, it gets hard. This illness isn't just affecting you... It's all of us. I pray that once this is over, it's over for good. We can move on, be the happy little family that we are without worry that we might lose you sooner than expected... Some days, like today, I feel crushed by the weight of this responsibility. I have to hear your complaints knowing that we can't yet make a move. I have to be strong, when what I would really like to do is go to the bathroom, sit on the floor, curl in a ball and sob. I have to hear it without getting angry, even though it's trying on me to h...

Inspired by this quote: ♫ "Kids: they dance before they learn there is anything that isn't music." ~William Stafford Reality Rhythm By Jaden Brulotte 2-19-09 Rhythm, you feel it Moving in your toes, your fingers itching and rump-shaking Wiggle your wormy way while you wander around I can see you bump-bumping Bounce, bouncing off your princess chair, your carseat, our bed Chase-chasing a beat that I can't quite tune in to, Eyes alight with the pulse-pulse of your music... We would wonder at being so lucky, to hear that undertone the score to so many seasons of life, an orchestra of opulence, the choir of what can be... You feel the rhythm, but I can't find your beat-beat.

Sometimes I feel that these *fake* friends I find on the internet understand me more than many who have known me for years. I suppose this might be because you can choose to connect with who you like on the net. It might also be because I have grown and am now a different person than I was when I made friends with the others. It's sad, though, when old friendships die. There are a few in particular I keep hoping will be rekindled, like those coals from last night's bonfire that spark again in the morning when you toss a log on... but that doesn't mean I'm willing to do all the work. Friendships aren't meant to be one-sided. People have been fake. Fake friends have been real. I've connected with those I never thought I might. Life is a true mystery, a whirlwind roller coaster and I am along for the ride. So much for a poem a day. Here's to random thoughts, renewal, love and connection- wherever we find it.

Poetry Type of The Day: Quatern A Quatern is a sixteen line French form composed of four quatrains. It is similar to the Kyrielle and the Retourne. It has a refrain that is in a different place in each quatrain. The first line of stanza one is the second line of stanza two, third line of stanza three, and fourth line of stanza four. A quatern has eight syllables per line. It does not have to be iambic or follow a set rhyme scheme. FORMAT: line 1 line 2 line 3 line 4 line 5 line 6 (line 1) line 7 line 8 line 9 line 10 line 11 (line 1) line 12 line 13 line 14 line 15 line 16 (line 1) AGLOW By Jaden Brulotte For my baby girl :) 6-27-2008 Your smile just lights me up, aglow- Firefly casting your light to show Shadows and dark- where can I go? Before you, I just didn’t know. When I get lost and start to slow Your smile just lights me up, aglow- You lift me up from down below Make me laugh and cast out my woes. In rolls the winter, blasts of snow I’m ...

Inspired by this quote: “No winter lasts forever; no spring skips it's turn.” -Hal Borland Poetry type of the day- HAIKU 5/1/2008 Birth of the Spring By Jaden Brulotte Winter finds its death In the renewal of life Brought on by the sun. Inevitably Spring By Will Boudle Eternal winter; But even ice ages pass And bring the green grass.