WG; ‘Discovering Your Continent’ (CRW150 Blog Post #3)

Doors, I love doors.
I come across one now, as it sits almost hidden in a field of sunflowers.
But I notice a faint outline and wander closer.
I touch it and it feels like the textured surface of a sunflower, yet with softened petals overlaying the surface.
I look down to my left and see a golden bee looking upward towards the sky, transfixed, not moving and realize this must be the door’s handle.
I gently touch it – it feels smooth like polished porcelain and it immediately springs open allowing me to enter.

When I place my foot over the threshold, I notice the air smells sharp, like fresh lavender and the light is a bit dimmer, more of a rosy hue. There are big dragonfly-like insects buzzing around and hummingbirds in slow motion stopping to look at me.
Fuzzy ferns seem to sprout and trail from almost every surface along with a myriad of colorful fluted flowers, with bee faces peeking out of them to watch me slowly walk by on a thick carpet of bright purple grass.
Gravity has seemed to lift in this tepid place as slow motion takes ahold, leaving every movement bigger and longer. But you seem to be able to take in everything all at once, not missing a single detail or nuance.

I can hear roaring like a grizzly close by, but it doesn’t seem to frighten me for some reason.
A ‘whapping’ noise comes from overhead, causing a shadow to appear along with it. I look up, shading my eyes out of instinct, although there doesn’t seem to be a need to here, and slowly begin to see a very large, long billed bird-like creature. It is making its way across the pinkened sky towards a hole in a mound of sorts. There are some letters over the top of the mound that seem to read ‘Th Futur’. Hmm, maybe they don’t like ‘E’s here.

Then the grizzly roaring gets closer and the firefly creatures all turn towards it, causing me to do the same. As we stand there waiting, I can feel the ground tremble a bit. Suddenly, a hairy creature advances from the mist to stand before me. I look up at this somewhat tall creature and ask, “Yeti?”.
To which he replies, “Just Yed”.
“Oh”, I answer “Yed”.
“And you are?” asks Yed.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m Shosy. Nice to meet you, Yed”.
“You too, Shosy”, replies Yed.

Wondering what to say or do next, Yed and I just begin to walk together naturally, as if we’ve known one another for a long time. It’s an easy camaraderie and we simply ‘go with the flow’, walking and talking a bit here and there. I ask Yed about himself and the place I’m now at and he, in return asks me about myself and how I got here. Apparently, out of all the flowers in this land, there are no sunflowers, so Yed has never seen one.
But then again, I’ve never met a Yeti up close and personal, nor walked around in apparent slow motion either.
So, I suppose we learn something new every day.
I promise next time I visit, I’ll bring Yed a sunflower.

SL
1/31/23

The Novelty (Post 2 – CRW150)

There are many things that tag along on a daily basis, struggling to irritate me. I could list them for you, just to give you a run-down. But instead, I’ll simply allude to them and see if you can put your fingers on my meanings, how does that sound? After all, why be so straight forward, when it would be much more fun to puzzle it out a bit. You know, use our noggins.

Endless scraps of papers, taking up room in folders, scrunched at the bottom of bags with no where to go. The writing disappears over time, like faded thoughts of energies well spent. So, what to do with them? Personally, if you know what I’m speaking of, I have a burn day. It’s so satisfying to watch it all go up in smoke!

Then there are continuous electronic trails, leading to everyone jumping on board the runaway conveyance to have their say. After one or two, I’m out, taking the passage going in the opposite direction.
And while it’s sparkling eye candy to peek through all those thoughts and pics on a regular basis, I’d much rather sit and create for a while, to let my mind wander and enjoy the space on the outside of a screen.

However, life in general can be bothersome; debts that need more funds no matter how much you constantly feed them, cars that need expensive new rubber to carry them around on, a patch that’s not supposed to be green yet it’s now overflowing! Call the landscaper and rub off those bills into his gloves.

Don’t forget to renew remedies, so you don’t get ill, and nourish those whiskery mouths before they trample the house apart. These aren’t really hassles but rather responsibilities that can sometimes be a bit of a burden because you are always rushing around like a dervish!

But, for some reason, if we didn’t have little or big things in life to bother us, would we appreciate the calm, peaceful times at all? Would we be able to wander barefoot through slowly dying embers of the firepit just to dare one another? Or scratch a piggy hiney and feel satisfaction? Or lay in a bathtub with no water, just to hear ourselves breathe?
I think not.
I think these are all novelties of my weird, random world, where I endure the inconvenience of miscellaneous displeasures. And I’d not trade it for anyone else’s.

I Am A Writer

I Am A Writer (Post 1 CRW150)

Yes, I can finally acknowledge that I am a writer (mainly a poet, but also a composer of lyrical images put together by strings of words or verses). Do you know I actually read my very first prose poem today and it was enlightening, imaginative, intriguing and exhilarating. To see a poem written in another form, as a paragraph and in a kind of narrative format, was the visual I needed. I can hardly wait to replicate this process in my own writing.

You may not know this about me, but I am a visual person, as well as a tactile individual. I lost my sight a few years ago, for a few months and while it was a learning experience for me personally, I still drew. One of my sons told me my art was actually better when I was blind, to which I found fascinating. I think it may have been either my color choices or my subject matter at the time but not sure which.

Yet to see a poem, in a ‘new’ format (to me) is stimulating. I try to push boundaries all the time with my writing; my poems do not rhyme, I rap in them at times, cuss at certain times, I push words across the page instead of starting [left margin, add several fonts per piece, mix two poems in one…the list goes on. You cannot let your writing grow stagnant, it must grow and change as we do as individuals.

And, I contend my poetry is therapy for my weary soul. It helps eliminate the urinal displeasures from my discontented urethra. And much of it I keep to myself because it simply is not for human consumption. But then there can be Pixie Dust or a rocking chair involved and it may make someone smile, which is a nice feeling.

Contests can and have been won or at the very least honorable mentions have surfaced, but the way you make someone feel is what writing is all about. So, maybe my therapy writing has helped a few along the way as I’ve struggled a bit here and there in my quest for visualizing and feeling my way through the dark.
Because that’s what writers do and I’m a writer.

This Place...

I love this place, this page.
It's where I come for comfort and rest.
The pages draw me - they settle my fractured heart
and let me breathe deeply again.
I'm surrounded by the quiet, those
I love and enjoy,
and can concentrate on the feelings of freedom and free-thinking
in a universe that grows smaller and smaller
by the minute.
Thank you for striding by quietly, as I sit deep
in my thoughts,
writing down my heart,
breathing in the fresh air.
And listening to bird symphonies
above me.
SL10/12/22

I see you

I see you there, you are not alone. Although you may think you... Days call forth nights, the moon rises and peeks out from behind its curtain of clouds to see the expanse of its worldly possessions. And relax in its cradle of star dotted skies. Sighing deeply, because it knows this only lasts a few hours. A few sweet, silent hours until the blaze of sun hits the horizon with its infernal glory and colorful pastels. Then birds begin to chirp and sounds start up in the distance, announcing the dawn of a new day. Unfolding the warmth of daylight and the end of darkness and silence. The moon tucks itself back into the recesses from where it comes, waiting for another sparkling twilight to begin, another tear dropped sky to welcome him. And the sight of you, along the way. SL 9/20/22

I entered a Bookmark Contest!

I entered a Bookmark contest and this is what was included;

a) my Bio
b) my original artwork for the bookmark.

So, now we'll see what happens and if it's chosen to be reprinted - if I win or not.
I have to admit it would be cool if it is chosen - to see my bookmarks hanging around the library and people using them! I would have to 'use' a few ofcourse when I checked out books!
The bio goes onto the back - hoping if mine is chosen it all fits - as the word count added up to just over 100 words, not counting spaces, etc.


So, we'll see - I have been inspired lately to go beyond and think outside my normal boundaries; push myself a little bit. Life is brief and we must explore ourselves within it while we are able.


With my three piggies at home; Shaggy, Scooby and Lottie Polka Dottie - I am learning to be more than I am; to love more, feel more, think more and just relax and enjoy those tiny moments as I snap pics of them to put captions to before posting to their IG accounts.


I am constantly inspired - but the fatigue wears me down a lot more than it used to. So, I grab the moments when I am able. Just being honest here. I love to create and I am not a 'crafter' either. I am an artist that loves to create - whatever enters my realm. Usually I work with dolls - making them One Of A Kind (OOAK). But occasionally I deal with paper or paint, as in this instance.

And this was the result -

Take care & God bless all your efforts,
Shosy Z
(On Instagram, Facebook & You Tube)

Family...

This is the place where I can dump all my thoughts - about life.
And today is no exception.
Yesterday, 10/18/17, my ex-brother-in-law, made a personal visit to me at my job, just to let me know my aunt had passed away and been found that morning. Robert is my cousin's boyfriend and he was thoughtful enough to tell me this news in person, because Cyndi was so shaken herself - she couldn't even gather her own thoughts at that point.
I can only imagine - losing both of my own biological parents when I was in my thirties and my dearest stepdad when I was only 19... it changes you. Makes you feel alone even more so.
Strips off a layer of strength and exposes vulnerability before calluses begin forming.


My Aunt was our family historian - I could ask her anything about anybody in our family. She was full of independence, spunk and said what she felt. Couth was not her strong point, but fun was and she had a lot of it in her brief 72 years. Heartache, spirit and fun.
Now she's singing and dancing - full and fresh - on the other side of this life, in a place I like to call
'Home'.


Say 'Hi' to everyone for me, Aunt Jean - see you sometime soon ^_^

Love, Sho

You'll Be Missed, Monday My Friend

He left me this past Sunday, March 19, 2017.
The day was too much for him - restless, crying out at times due to pain...
Finally just after 3pm, I awoke to a disheartening thump and cry.
He was lying twisted on the walkway heading to my bathroom, panting.

I cradled his head in my right hand and soothed him,
"It's okay, Dede, you can go on to Heaven."
"It's time for you to go and find Mags and Sammy and those brothers of yours".
"And wait for me honey - I'll be there soon, okay?"

I barely got the words out before he took his final breath.
He was gone.
I untwisted his thin, long body, brushing his beautiful striped fur with my hand.
And then I got my mum's stethoscope to make sure his heart wasn't still beating.

His left eye looked glazed already.
And his pupils were fixed - his was still as, well death.
His only evacuation had been a little dribble from his mouth
because he had used his litter, like a gentleman, a bit earlier.

I caressed his dear ears and noticed his tail had blown up as if he was in fight mode.
A type of distress.
My poor baby.
I had raised him from about 5 weeks old or so til he was here - almost eleven years.

He dined on milk from an eyedropper, along with his three brothers;
Huckleberry, Sawyer, and Siegfried. They had been found in a neighbors pile of backyard junk - abandoned by their mama. And Monday was the last to be caught that weekend, starting from Friday, Saturday and finishing up on - you got it!

Not knowing if they even had eyes because their sockets were so enflamed with pus and goo -
I cleaned them one by one, after hearing the first one - Siegfried, whom I refer to even today as 'Head'.
Sig is the only one of the bunch left - the only remaining survivor now.
Sawyer and Huckleberry have long since passed away - not sure of what exactly, when they were each 3 years old.

And now Monday is gone - from a broken heart most likely.
His hero, Jack left and found a new woman and animals. And I firmly believe somehow Monday, being so extremely sensitive, knew he was never coming back, so he just gave up.

But I will miss his sassiness and his climbing up any unattended ladder he found. I'll miss his figure eights around my legs when I was in the kitchen - driving me nuts! And his demanding cries any time I closed my door, to let him in my room. I'll even miss his itchy whiskers on my nose when I was trying to sleep.

And try not to cry myself to sleep from missing him too much.

Love you Monday, my friend, my Dede!

He Moved On...

He moved on…

Coming in with happier eyes,
he put his finger to his lips;
didn’t want to spoil the surprise.

When she couldn’t find him,
she went outside looking for his truck
and the dogs –

What she found was the dogs’ previous owner.
'Camille', she called herself,
Jumping from the cab, hugging her and talking
a mile a minute.

“He wanted to tell you in person”
“Is there anything I should know?”
“…just want your blessing”

‘Camille’ already had her mind made up.
She had her dogs back, a warm body to cling to during the cold nights,
and someone to feed her; protect her.

She walked away, stunned, not sure what she said or
didn’t say.
Just to go and find him.

He was leaning against the counter,
deep in thoughts made up of eleven years of memories.
When he turned to look at her, they all showed and played
across the span between them.

Goodbye will never be uttered, but it was felt,
even as her tears melted in the backs of her eyes.
And his reassurances of being best friends rang in her ears.

Being left is so entirely solitary that one never fails to recall
the sensation.

                                                                                                            SL (no G)   3/1/17

                                                          (Taken Feb. 2017!)

It's Been 15 Years This Month, Mum...

Fifteen years since I picked up a phone call from you.
It feels like yesterday, yet when I look at pictures or see myself in the mirror,
I  know it's been so very long.
A lifetime seems to have come and gone
without you in it -
how could that have happened? How could we have been so
brazen to have walked away from you.

 

It's been fifteen years since I heard the words "I love you more".
And I can't tell you how much I muss you and always will, my little mommy.
Until I see you again, my one and only dearest...

July

Ya know this has been a month - July has.
Instead of promise, it has been full of failure, I think.
First Gizmo passed, after almost two decades of being a constant in my life - quietly watching history play out for me.
Then one week later I lose Max, my Albino bunny - so friendly with his 'whisker kisses' when I would feed him orange leaves off the tree his hutch sat under. Another week passed and his bunk mate 99, a soft, dessert looking, sensitive fellow died as well. Was it from the heat too or from missing Max too much?
The ducks were given away - because they kept picking on the chickens. But arguably that was in June.
Josh get into an accident on Zach's birthday - with us in the car, because some drunken fool runs a stop sign on private property.
I am brushing more and more fur off of Sig...
Meanwhile Jack's MRI scans are 'lost' and now we find out there are three nodules instead of only one.
There are more questions than answers - piling up like dirt at a construction site.
I am not sleeping a whole lot - just resting, which is good.
But I am more tired than I was 5 years ago.
Where is energy?
Zach has lost too much weight now - he is emaciated looking because he is afraid to eat - it will bring on the pain. The pain his doctor says is in his head, but his shrink says isn't.
What a bunch of bull#*%@!
Doctors belive they are mini gods and that everything that will be discovered has been. Well, that is not the truth at all and it just shows their humanness.
A doctor killed my mom.
And countless doctors are responsible daily for other lives; negative and positive.
Be informed - never take another person's word completely.
We are all simply people - some just have more knowledge and experience in different areas. but we are all fallible and make mistakes and can continue to learn and grow.
So, back to this month - the month of July, when my son was born 30 years ago. He was beautiful and another blessing in my life. I already had a firstborn son, so now I had two and I felt so grounded and mature at 21. I was home with my children - they made me grow up and made me feel like I was important, needed and actually supposed to be their mom.
When in reality I was young, kinda stupid and still doing a lot of growing up. But at least I had these small souls to help me; shape me and make me give of myself more than I ever would have if they had  been absent from my life.
Thank you. And love you - all of you for that.
So, yea July sucked this year - but not all of it - there were bright, shining moments filled with Zach and Josh; two people I really adore as much as they'll let me.
In my heart I love them more.

I say to myself, more than anyone.

One person can change the world.
Many have tried and many have succeeded.
You have to keep trying.
Oftentimes we get caught up in our lamentations and simply want to lie in them awhile and lament. We get pushed around by pain, by humans hurting us, by not taking control of our own selves.
That is o.k. for a time, but then we need to get out there and try again.
With or without those that would cheer for you.
If you know it is right, then you must do it, no matter what anyone else thinks or says.
Oftentimes our journey is individual, not as a team endeavor. Many of our achievements are not noticed or applauded.
But that does not make them of any less consequence.
So, walk the paths you have chosen - we must, and suffer the consequences of those choices as well. But these are choices - made with or without thought. Made rashly, in the heat of the moment or made with careful consideration.
Either way, one person can make a difference for not only themselves but for countless others.
So, we must not only choose wisely, but we must keep on trying and enduring.
For what is life, if not a gift to succeed and fail, fail and succeed?
It was given freely - will we make the best of it? Make the most of it?
It's over too fast to wallow in self-destructive behavior or self-pity.
It's like a gift that can be used over and over again. It never gets old or outdated.
Always waiting for its' owner to do something new with it.
Never judging us for leaving it on a shelf for a time and then remembering to come back to it and use it again.
One life, one person, one success - it all interconnects to something magnificent.

Happy October!

This font is called 'Georgia' - in a nod to you, Zachy. I just finished Directing a play for a local community theatre. The play was "Get Smart"- based on the 1960's sitcom. My son, Zach played the lead - Maxwell Smart (agent 86). He was terrific! It started out to be an extremely enjoyable experience. The actors were so fun - they constantly made me laugh out loud!
I miss those early days of freedom and exploration.
It all turned negative though, in the end - when the artistic director didn't take my creative and artistic views seriously. She was greedy and wanted to 'play by the rules' instead of allowing the production to flow. She rampaged at me and threatened me. She did to me what was done to her earllier by another person in charge of her endeavor. Are we destined to imitate what we are shown - without any thought to the defeating outcome? It's a shame when we have to be stiffled because of our talents and beliefs.
After all, we have to be true to ourselves.
We have to be true to our vision.
We have to create because we feel the need, the drive to create.
It's out of our control - we are the vehicles through which the creative process flows and spills out onto those surrounding us.
Hopefully, it is always a positive process.
Hopefully it makes someone smile. Or think. Or inspire.
And be thankful.
That's all I can ask from any of my pieces of art - whether they be one of my poems, my drawings, my calmly or even funkily decorated home, my directing or other form of expression in theatre (hair, makeup or costume design), and finally through my sons. They are grown now and I pray that others will see the shining face of God through their efforts.
Those are the only things that really matter.
Take care, Sho ^_^