joannebest











{September 4, 2015}   Kitty Crawl

catstalk

kitty vision,
eyes open wide,
glow and reflect,
i take You all in by the light of dusk or
not-yet-morning light,
slouched back, supine, alert in reverie,
silent sizzle
it’s not a stalk but a draw, a pull,
insistent and incapable of taking no for an answer
so I slink,
low and slow i take it all in
no words, just purrs and hisses,
instinctual,
ingrained from the ancient tribes,
when primal ruled the lands
and winners took all
to live another day
it’s in our dna,
impossible to resist, this pre-ordained,
You dangle treats and i pounce,
positive reinforcement or force of habit,
maybe,
but that certain growl tells me
You control the outcome

kittycrawl

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wills8
I’m trying.

I really am, but there seems to be a conspiracy surrounding me and everything I attempt to do.

Example: I’ve been working on a piece of writing, you know how it goes, you write, you save to draft, you edit, you delete and rewrite because suddenly every perfect word, every luscious phrase you previously wished you could come up with finally hits you all at once and you write like a fiend, fingers flying, things you didn’t even realize you were capable of reveal themselves on the page fast and furious and you’re happy, pleased with yourself, words spitting out so quickly you don’t take that tiny second to hit “save draft” because after all, you’re nearly done and won’t need to hit anything but “publish”.

And then the dog scratches on the door to come in so you turn away for a split second to open the door and bam! William the Siamese cat decides he wants to jump on your desk, sit on your computer and inadvertently/intentionally deletes every word you just wrote, goes on Facebook and pulls up things on your computer you didn’t even know existed.

Yes, I know there is the automatic save to draft but that does no good when you’ve just changed every word you wrote in the previous draft. Every. Single. Word.

Of course it doesn’t help that your mind blanks out and you can’t remember what you just wrote a few moments ago.

You try, or rather, I try desperately to rewrite using my last saved draft but it’s gone, like that first little puff of smoke when you relight a candle, your thoughts dissipate into the ether, never to return.

It’s discouraging to say the least, but I’ve been so out of touch with the world recently that to just give up is unacceptable.
I want it back, a poem living in my head for days, finally formed to my satisfaction, but it’s gone.

So what do I do?
I need to get back into the habit of writing every day, I can’t let another day go by without writing something post-worthy and I can’t pull those thoughts back into my brain, I can’t reach them anymore, they’ve moved onto another plane of existence, as everything that has meant the most to me in my life has done.
And I don’t mean only those who have left this life, but also my lifelines, the one(s) who have let me cry when I needed to and lifted me up when I was nearly underground.
I understand life goes on and things change in the blink of an eye, with or without our permission or knowledge until it’s too late.
I understand we all have our own baggage to carry around, hidden or out in the open.
I understand that empathy, which may be considered a good thing, can sometimes bring me to my knees as I’m overwhelmed on occasion with understanding, overwhelmed with thoughts of the burdens others live each day, overwhelmed with the fact that I care and worry more about others than I do myself.
Overwhelmed with being overwhelmed.

So I shall compromise.
Let it go because perhaps, for some unknown reason, it wasn’t meant to be.

Hence, a blog post.
Sure, it’s certainly nothing award winning, but it sure as hell feels good to write something again.
I’ve been lost you see, all summer long I’ve been without direction, without inspiration, my head full of nothing but how to take care of my Dad and his dwindling finances, as well as his fading health.
If I don’t write something down it flees my mind, and even when I do make my numerous lists, like Sisyphus, just when I seem to get to the top of the hill, everything I’ve done rolls right back down, taking me with it.
Yet still, I continue to try.

Soon a day will come when I reach the top of the hill and I will be able to look down and say something I haven’t said in far too long: Life Is Good.
Because contrary to the odds, I still believe that Life Is Good, and I have every intention of proving that to myself.
One way or another.

sisaphus1



{January 9, 2015}   500

snowangel1

i could sit here forever

as it nags at me, just a whisper really but

an unrelenting nag,

‘it’s all here’,

that siren’s call (it’s so beautiful)

‘come and get it’

and oh, do i want to,

dig deep and hold on tight then,

release,

explode in a burst of genius or

a smooth float down a lazy river,

one just as satisfying as the last

and the next,

it’s just this one, this particular now,

a sky high mountain i built with my own little hands

but i can climb,

my fingers flew before and they will fly again,

for now they slide along,

landing wherever and whenever they will,

not quite thought-less,

more thought-light,

a pressure-less kind of pressure,

it’s funny how you can see so clearly

through the early morning snowflakes

when you can hear again

snowangel



{August 10, 2014}   Midnight Sanity

sexysheets2
midnight murmurings
urgent low between
silence,
surreal imaginings
unsure,
a prophecy, a dream,
fated, faked,
never sure which is which yet,
i wait and wait and wait,
inside lives that sliver of hope,
the dangle of the prize
so close i smell it,
and like a cat i pounce,
inhale each word to roll around my mouth,
tickle my tongue and begin the slow slide,
down my throat, as every pump of my blood
leads me there,
the heart of the matter and the reason we’re here,
now,
maximum thread count slithers around me mixing words,
phrases dreamed eons ago,
all on repeat
keeping me breathing,
the waxing and waning of the moon
my only measure
and you,
my midnight sanity
midnight



{June 9, 2014}   Not Me

angels
i’m not that devil on your shoulder
masquerading as an angel,
whispering in your ear
intent on pulling you away from your self,
no, that’s not me,
i’m not that siren attempting to lure you to a slow painful death
weaving a melody leading you to destruction and regret,
on a quest to steal your soul for all eternity,
no, that’s not me,
i’m not that poisonous voice planting those misleading thoughts
in an effort to push you down till you drown,
insane clatter spinning you in circles till you can’t tell which is heaven and which is hell,
slithering through your midnight hauntings
and echoing through your day,
no, that’s not me,
buzzing in your ear
insinuating you’re tarnished,
stinging you helter-skelter, trying to smother your glow
no, that’s not me,
i’m the one with the naïve trust, full of faith,
i’m the one waiting, quietly, in the corner,
believing in my forever
angels3



{May 6, 2014}   Yours

yours
when you call me pet
or you tell me i am yours
my whole world glistens

yours1

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/pick-me-up/
~This is the prompt today, whether it fits the technical definition of haiku or not, this is my version of the haiku style we were taught in school~ and the prompt is: What is the one word or phrase that immediately cheers you up when you hear it?



{May 2, 2014}   Let The Games Begin

games3
you’re fencing again
all parry and no thrust
while i sit static,
watching life go by,
all the reasons in the world
won’t change the craving
no matter how valid,
like a vampire needs that lifeblood to live,
so i react, instant and shameless
at the slightest show of life,
but still i can’t keep up,
there was a time when i could outrun you
with my hands tied behind my back,
now the thought makes me stumble and i fall to my knees,
counting on the combined spidey-sense
to strike, friction into fire
as we let the games begin
games4



{April 25, 2014}   Morning Minutia

morning4
it’s the morning minutia i miss most,
you and me,
a cup of tea without boundaries or barricades
and everything on the table,
nothing sacred, nothing secret,
just open roads and smooth sailing
because you never steer me wrong,
even in your absence i hear your voice in my head
letting me find my way, urging me on
to find my perfect me,
no matter where you are
there’s a certain strength you built inside me,
instinctive and innate,
connected through the blood line of the ancient ones
or maybe just a crazy happenstance,
something put me here,
now,
this way,
these days,
but lately there’s a more frequently occurring calm,
i’m beginning to trust the absence
even when the shadow-monsters whisper ‘never forever’,
this me i’m becoming is learning to banish those thoughts
designed to break me and i breathe easy,
the sound of your voice silky smooth
sliding through my mind
keeps those waiting times safe and sure
and much more bearable
morning1



{April 14, 2014}   Me Waiting

waiting2
it’s all me,
somewhere inside this mess
is me,
choking on my swallowed words
intimidated into silence reluctant
while i simmer inside
trying,
that’s not a word, you tell me,
you don’t just try, you just do,
easy for you to say is what my brain whispers,
my mouth agrees out-loud,
hoping you can’t see for miles
because my eyes always give me away,
my voice does too, sometimes,
so i hide behind silence and laughter,
a strange couple perhaps
yet they keep me from screaming out loud,
now the roads are closing, at least for awhile,
and i’m unsure how to breathe
i don’t know where the safe-zone is
in this disconnected space,
no matter how much you say it’s ok,
see, i don’t believe in much but i believe in the inevitable,
inevitably i end up in the dark,
alone and waiting
and now, more than ever, i’m always waiting
waitingg



{March 29, 2014}   Patterns

teardrop
the snow does indeed turn to rain,
torrential, relentless,
a reflection of my insides
pouring down like every soul is crying at once,
but tears are just a joke these days,
weakness,
comparable enough for me to keep them hidden,
i am not a weeping willow tree, on a quest to strangle and tangle myself around you
but i am not a warrior princess either,
there is no strength beneath this shell that carries me,
i am full of fear and mistrust
because patterns,
even armed with that knowledge
we still ride that train cyclical,
hitting that same bump over and over,
the past can rear it’s ugly head like a snake unprovoked,
and we pay for our sins eternal,
real or imagined, we pay,
when the cold war sets in
there is no differentiating between a memory or a dream,
fiction becomes non-fiction to the inconsistent eye,
so i lay my head down and listen to another loud deluge pounding me from the outside in,
seeping through my skin only to seek release unnoticed,
slipping from the corners of my eyes
cryy



et cetera