Hinges


heavy door’s hinge, trepidus creak
quaking fingers grip, curious peek
hungry light seeks

one moment brave, the next meek
words filling space to high-pitched squeak 
am I a freak?

counting on you to speak
blushing piqued
apprehension sneaks

knees weak, exhibitionist streak
what’s the mystique?
guide me, cheek to cheek

use your cautious technique 
lead, push open the door, in a couple weeks
swinging open more doors, desires tweaked

hinges no longer squeak 
hold my hand, to the peak 
ours, unique

Patinaed

trapped, pacing cavernous halls of yesterdays,
in a labyrinth of memories, edges torn and frayed

soul dreading the echoes, reverberating of years,
flesh bearing cool patina, corrosion by fears

her tired heart but a shadow of what could be,
thrumming erratic, amidst suffocating debris

-shared in response to DVerse’s Quadrille Challenge, Shadow, click the link for a wonderful explanation about the Quadrille and to read more poetry entries  (or participate)

Seasonal (limerick)

Freeze from sapphire heavens creates white earth,
Melting to steady rain, sparking rebirth.
Soon, sun burns a fierce smolder,
Long days turn to nights colder,
As colors fall, fading, crackling last mirth.

-image credit CNCacrylics via Pinterest, limerick shared in response to Mind and Life Matters’ Limerick Challenge, seasons

Can’t Wait…

I can’t wait to find her

when I see her,
she’ll take my breath away;
I won’t even see it coming

there’ll be something in the way she holds herself,
the way she moves,
humbly confident,
aware of her natural beauty,
but not trying to flaunt it,
completely unaware of the eyes which gravitate to her,
because she doesn’t need their approval

she’ll have an air of classy comfort,
maybe wearing jeans that hug her curves (oh those curves!) in all the right places,
a simple t-shirt and casual jacket,
heels that accentuate the subtle arch in her graceful feet,
an easy elegance about her that makes me want to know how those curves might feel against my palms

there’ll be a lightness about her;
she has worries in the world,
but she tries not to let them get her down,
she loves to listen and share her joy with others far too much for that,
but I’ll see them in the way her shoulders square ever-so-slightly against the world,
and I’ll long to help her carry the load,
to remind her I’m right here,
to kiss her forehead for no reason at all,
scoop her up in a big bear hug when I hear the telling sigh I know so well,
or place my hand in the small of her back when she’s nervous

she’ll love to talk,
and she’ll want to jump right in,
right past all the silly small talk,
straight to what makes us tick,
to the talk that makes our eyes shine,
that causes our faces and hands to come alive and the air to spark electric,
right to the grit that holds our future

when she speaks,
I’ll know she means what she says,
and says what she means,
her voice just loud enough to hear,
not wanting to draw attention to herself,
a slight shyness about her,
an innocence that longs to remain untouched

and yet,
there’ll be this other part of her,
this fiery part that glimmers so brightly in the center of her eyes if you look long enough,
the part that sees my wolf staring back,
seeking it,
longing to be taken,
tamed,
freed

and I want nothing more than to do just that

I can’t wait to find her

-image via Pinterest

Connecting, a Gift

I’m a 44 year old, fairly technologically challenged woman. When I was a kid, phones had cords and some still had rotary dials. Every gas station, mall, and public place had pay phones. Cordless phones were like bricks with foot-long antennas. If we wanted to eat and not lose all our privileges, we followed rules: we came home to check in at certain times, which we knew because we looked at clocks and watches. We used dusk as a way to know when to call it a night, and parents called one another’s parents. Neighbors knew one another’s names. We learned responsibility and interpersonal skills. There was no Internet. No. Internet. There was no World Wide Web until many years after I graduated from college. I didn’t own a computer until around 2000. Before that, I used a typewriter, then a word processor. I didn’t own a smartphone until almost two years ago, and the job I’ve had for the last 13 years doesn’t require me to use much technology. 

Technology is a must now, and it rapidly and exponentially evolves. I had to learn to use it if I wanted to be connected, and I value connectedness. I value people. The beauty of it all is that today, connection is at our fingertips. We can meet people from all over the world in a few keystrokes. And if we come to the table with an open heart and be vulnerably ourselves, we may be lucky enough to make soulful, lifelong connections. 

I didn’t have any idea what I wanted or needed when I began blogging. But what I found were people. Fascinating, compassionate, talented, inspiring, kindred people. I found friends. 

Not long after I began on WordPress three years ago, I met Rita. I found her blog, and her words squeezed my heart. Sometimes they punched me in the gut. Either way, I was compelled to comment. She replied. We had so much in common, and not just life experience. It was like speaking to a long lost sister.

Within a very short period of time it was apparent we’d found kindred spirits. After emailing me and not receiving a reply (I didn’t see it for about a month and a half), she looked for me on Facebook and oddly enough she found me first try. She messaged, and the rest is history. We’ve spoken by text every day for two and half years. We speak regularly by phone. We talk about everything, joys and hardships, and laugh till we cry. 

Over the past several years, even as Rita and I became friends and continued getting to know one another, I’ve been delving deep to find myself. I am finally me (of course this is ongoing and evolving). That may be a ridiculous sentence, but it’s true. I am finally the me I’m meant to be, not the one anyone else thought I should be, the one I thought I should be, based on so many faulty ideas and thinking patterns. I see myself; I am myself. I listen to myself. And because of this, I believe I have more to offer others. Or less, really, lol. No smoke and mirrors. But the most freeing thing I’ve ever experienced outside of being myself with my husband and children, is being myself with friends who accept all of me. And Rita has always so easily accepted and understood me. Even when she hasn’t completely understood, she has listened and empathized with my feelings. She’s seen the strength amidst the chaos, and because of the chaos! I found a soul sister; I am so fortunate. 

This past weekend, because of a few keystrokes two and a half years ago, I was able to look my friend in the eyes and give her the biggest hug. I got to see her eyes when she spoke and watch them light up when she laughed. I saw her hands move with her words and felt the friendship in three dimensions. We talked and walked and talked and ate. There was no awkwardness. I was Kay and she was Rita, whole and simple. She came to Ohio, and was able to see my life first hand and not through still pics and typed letters. It was wonderful. 


What a gift that is, that freedom to be ourselves and trust so fully. I will forever see it as such. I miss her already. But luckily, in a few keystrokes, or the tapping of numbers on a glass screen, we can stay in touch, every day. Until the next time I can see her face and give her the biggest hug! I can’t wait. 

I’ve also been fortunate enough to make several more close friends via blogging, and I get to meet another dear friend in two weeks! It’s going to be an amazing month. 

What powerful, connecting tools we have at our fingertips….and within our fingertips, if we allow it. 

-header image found on Pinterest, image contained in post is mine

I Wish…

I see you here most days;
I hope to

I seem to have made it a habit,
coffee, and you

there you sit,
legs crossed, in your well-worn
gray Woodstock t-shirt, 
sipping your coffee,
mindlessly scrolling through your phone, 
in no hurry

every now and then, you look up to stare,
at everything and nothing at all,
an easy smile for any passer by, 
a quiet confidence, 
a contentment that’s contagious

and your eyes, oh God, 
your warm, deep green eyes with tiny orange flecks,
remind me of how it used to feel sitting beneath my favorite willow tree on sleepy summer nights

I want to know your name,
I want to feel it roll off my tongue, 
a sound as familiar and comfortable 
as my favorite, cozy sweatshirt

I want to know what you like for breakfast and how you take your tea,
I want to know when you’re afraid 
and when you’re too tired to sleep

I want to recognize your laugh 
from across the room,
feel your eyes on me without even 
having to look

I want to know you

I see you,
and I wish you’d see me, too

-image credit Pinterest, poem inspired by image