It's A Sign

My husband and I stepped off the plane and were welcomed into the Las Vegas airport with these lovely Ipod 'vending' machines. It's a sign that something, somewhere, is seriously wrong. Gas prices are sky high, famine and illness strike innocent people every minute, wars are taking lives, and somebody thinks it's cool to have an Ipod machine at an airport. There's something wicked and amiss, in my opinion. It's just another unfortunate 'sign' of the times.

(photo by jan doble, 2007)

It's A Sign...(for Weekend Wordsmith Prompt) and Something Wicked, (for Easy Street Prompts)

A Butterfly World

(photo by jan doble, 2008)

In a Butterfly World, we let others be.

We hold on to no one-we give room to breathe.

We don't 'own' others-we just love, and know,

by respecting boundaries we give room to grow.

If one feels the need to go one's own way,

we love them enough to let go; yet, remain

in the mindset that things will work out just fine-

and all will be well, if given Time.

In a Butterfly World, we set others free.

If they come back to us it was meant to be.

by: jan doble

written: may 14, 2008

(I added this to BlogTalkers prompt: Independence and Easy Street Prompt: Land of the Free

Chance Encounter

(photo by jan doble, 2008)

Sunday Scribblings prompt this week is 'Chance Encounter'.

I have posted an entry on my other blog, Inspirations and Irritations, that I linked to SS, describing a 'chance encounter' I had with a beautiful blue/black swallowtail butterfly a few days ago.

Here is the actual link to my other blog entry if you'd like to see more than this ONE photo of this interesting butterfly.

Pleiades

Pleiades are poems that contain 7 lines, with each line containing 7 syllables. The title is to be just 1 word, and each line must begin with the same letter as the first letter in the title.

(photo by jan doble, 2007)

PEACE

Please make room for quiet time

Pick a moment to unwind

Place yourself somewhere sublime

Paint a picture in your mind

Ponder life's magnificence

Partake of nature's free gifts

Peacefully leave cares behind.

by jan doble

july 3, 2008

The prompts Magnificent and Moments from Simply Snickers are included here.

Broken

a cerulean haze masks her mood,
sombre and weary

from her soul's vain efforts
to reach his swollen, bloated head

(loath to solace the broken,
shivered essence of her being).

fractured and crushed
by weight too heavy to bear,

her bones ooze the marrow
intended to support her life-

while bravely she lives, her mood masked,
by a cerulean haze.

jan doble

june 7, 2008

photo: http://bluefairysaint.spaces.live.com/blog/cns!2386825CADC2F761!2558.entry

Back, (almost)

For anyone out there who reads my blogs, I've been a bit distracted as of late. But I have really missed participating in the poetry prompts at various sites as well as interacting with many of you!

Pain, as I've noted earlier, has been a serious issue. Some psychic, but primarily physical. I have suffered (hate that term...but sure feels like suffering to me) since October with pain and it is totally atypical for me to have pain as well as to complain. Several doctors have attempted to throw my symptoms into various categories. Such as, fibromyalgia. Or 'migrating parasthesias'. Or, myofascial pain syndrome. Or, whatever, whatever, whatever! A lot of doctors see things in one dimension only (or have tunnel vision)...sorry doctors, but it's true. Many doctors don't bother to investigate, they like to take a quick guess and send you on your way!

But I HAVE visited and received help from a rheumatologist, neurologist, orthopaedist, and spinal surgeon...but to no lasting relief. I've had MRI's, CT scans, X-rays, taken all kinds of pain medication, had injections, epidurals, been to physical therapy--and all for definite 'structural' problems: cervical and lumbar degenerative disc disease, bulging discs and bone on bone disc issues that can't be treated surgically, and lots of things pressing on nerves causing numbness and nerve pain. As a last resort, I've seen a pain management doc, and I'm finally scheduled for some anesthetic pain injections under sedation using an X-Ray to give the injections. It took EIGHT solid months to get to this point. Don't really understand it, but it sounds helpful...hopefully!

Next, I'm scheduled to see a neurosurgeon to address a syrinx in my thoracic spine...it's a fluid filled sac (not a pleasant description) and it's right smack in the middle of my spinal cord. It may not be a problem, but it might be pressing against something to add to the pain. Who knows? Maybe, just maybe, I'll get some answers from that visit as well. After that I'm scheduled for a bone scan to rule out bone cancer...which I think is highly unlikely...but it must be ruled out. (Having had cancer before, I couldn't agree more that it's always a good idea to investigate all possibilities).

Meanwhile...

I have been UTTERLY POEM-LESS! I just seem totally incapable of writing a poem. I am just barren; empty; brainless! I've been pre-occupied, too...my favorite Aunt (who I'm named after) has been given 3 months to live...just diagnosed with lung cancer after she went in for her annual physical. She didn't even know she was sick. She's my mother's best friend...her sister...and it's sad all the way around.

So...although I have missed so much by not joining in on all the activities available out there in the poetry blogging world, I do intend to participate again soon (maybe even 'sooner' if I can get 'inspired' to actually write a poem).

The cool 'Recent Comments' widget I was using is out of commission too! Freakin' technology...isn't all it's cracked up to be.

The Flower, by Robert Creeley

(photo by jan doble, 2008)

The poem, The Flower, by Robert Creeley, has stuck in my mind since I took 20th century poetry in a high school English class. A book that I have on my shelf, by Cynthia Dubin Edelberg, entitled: Robert Creeley's Poetry, A Critical Introduction, attempts to explain what Creeley was thinking when he wrote the poem. She writes "Creeley wrote most of his poems in response to the collapse of his 1st marriage. This self-analytic poem (and others) evidence his need to sort the confusions and his feelings that there is nothing outside of himself that he can really depend on. It is not that he rejects everything and everyone, but that he comes to realize he is essentially on his own."

The Flower

I think I grow tensions

like flowers

in a wood where

nobody goes.

Each wound is perfect,

encloses itself in a tiny

imperceptible blossom,

making pain.

Pain is a flower like that one,

like this one,

like that one

like this one.

Edelberg continues, "The poet's meditation takes place in an isolated wood, a personalized place of self-consciousness. Each flower embodies his pain and, by growing, naturally adds to his burden. The poem pits the lonely victim's endurance against his vulnerability and, in the final stanza, suggests his capacity to sustain exquisite misery, perfect in its completeness and intensity."

My take on this is that we must realize that although we are each alone...we are alone in this vast universe TOGETHER....each with personal, invisible blossoms of pain. None of us escapes. Pain is life's lesson of growth to us, a gift, of sorts.

(photo by jan doble, 2008)

Flowers With Thorns

Riddle:
If my flower did not have thorns, it would not be my flower.
If my flower did not hurt me and I saw blood in my hands,
it would not be my flower.
Who can understand? Who will try to understand?
I know that nobody will. But I also know that inevitably we all have a flower with thorns.

Answer:
Memories

...From 'Healing Quotes' (We all have Flowers with Thorns)

Waiting

I have re-titled this poem as it had nothing to do with the original title I gave to it.


thinking that
the days of chill
and pensive contemplation
were through

(like the last cup
of coffee in the
pot, cloudy and ready
for cleaning

to renew it from
the black, bleak cave
it had sat in
for hours)

i've anticipated warmth,
and spontaneity-
not prepared to force
hopeful thoughts.

instead, my breath
is heavy; encircling me
in a gray
melancholy mist,

as i sigh in sorrow
for sun which hides
behind clouds,
refusing to disperse

-keeping rain
and cold
(and pain)
right here in my grasp.

though i try letting go,
it clings-
this pain will not release
despite my

dangling hands.
i do not hold it.
i no longer expect
spring,

though
it's there,
waiting behind
coffee colored clouds

in a black
-and bleak
web of memories
in my mind.

jan doble
april, 2008
(I added this to the ReadWritePoem Prompt #27, but didn't write it specifically for that).

My Creed

(photo by jan doble, 2008)

I'm an enigma to myself.I intellectually 'know' many things but oftencannot 'psychologically' apply them to myself.I'm a mother, a wife, afriend.I'm also a never-ending pain in the ass to myself.I say onething and do another.I can apologize but have a hard time withself-forgiveness.I'm a seeker, and a questioner.I try to be complacentand peaceful,but I'm a restless soul stuck in a body with a restlessmind.I'm a counselor.I try to be a positive influence on the worldaround me.I have good intentions, but often fall short of them.Ibelieve thoughts and inner dialogue play a role in how we feel;but Ioften can't stop thinking and talking negatively to myself,thus Ioften do feel lousy. I'm a positive person;but I'm overlysensitive.It's a nice gift to have sensitivity-to be intuitive andperceptive;yet sensitivity can also make you hurt a lot inside.Mypersonality is complex and I often contradict my own beliefs.I believethat life is filled with challenges and difficulties that we have tomake a conscious effort to get through.I believe that unless you arebrain- dead, you have feelings;and no matter how 'positively' youthink, you still might hurt. This, I believe.

Written: November, 2007

(photo by jan doble, 2008)

Daddy's Girl

(photo by jan doble, 2008)

I wrote a poem a little while back that I am using for

Easy Street Prompt, Daddy's Girl.

My poem can be found by going to this link:

Petals Fall From Roses Red

Grounded

The following photo is the recent prompt from the poetry site
'15 Words or Less':

Here is my poem, in 15 words or less:

THIS is HOME!
where i
Choose
to be!
Grounded!
and Free;
Away from
Rough Seas.

jan doble
april 14, 2008

The Rest of My Life

This poem fits the prompts for Weekend Wordsmith (Framed), '15 Words or Less' (photo of shipwreck) and Totally Optional Prompts (Symbolic Poetry):

The Rest of My Life

Framed
in Memory,
that trip's
Ending
was just
the Beginning
of
my larger
Journey.

jan doble
april 14, 2008

Picture Window

Here is a Nonet, for Totally Optional Prompts, (Transformation) and Weekend Wordsmith, (Framed):

framed in the window, your face i see.
your figure-alive! your shadowed
image lies, still: i'm squinting.
the picture is blurring.
no-don't let it be.
the window lies.
the image...
only
me.

jan doble
april 14, 2008

Mother

The recent 'get your poem on' prompt #26 at Read Write Poem has been 'Mother'...so I've linked the following poems that I've written at earlier times:


mother

remember

i do not wish to lose

Nostalgia

Weekend Wordsmith's prompt for the week: Torrential Rain

I love to sit
in my chair
and listen
to the sounds
the roof makes
-the thunder
and lightening
pounding
and
flashing,
the drops
hammering
against the
shingles.

I love to stand
at my window
and watch
the trees
and the plants
swaying
and
bowing down
to the earth
-the branches
and
leaves
dripping wet.

I love
to lie
in my bed
and feel
the warmth
and
nostalgia
as i remember
my childhood

-running outside
in the rain
in my rubbers

and my

bright

yellow

raincoat.

jan doble
may 9, 2008

Devotion

always giving me
his love, unconditional
devotion: his gift

jan doble

may 8, 2008

...Haiku in response to the prompt 'Dog', at Mad Kane

Who Could Blame Him?

This weeks prompts at Simply Snickers are:

BOOT BID BLAME


He'd been auctioneering all day.
He knew the words inside and out.

"Twenty dollars, who'll BID twenty five?
Ok, twenty five, twenty five dollars"

...and so on, and so on.

He had a terrible piercing pain;
a stabbing pain in his heel.

He couldn't speak the words,
barely managing "Twen...ty...fi..."

-then off the stage he fell, where he
took off his shoe and found a nail protruding

through the heel. "Problem solved! Just a band-aid
and I'll be fine...ahh...what have we here?"

"A BOOT-no; two boots up for bidding!
Not anymore!" Quickly he grabbed them,

put them on (who could BLAME him?)
and climbed back up on the stage.

Once again, he began his spiel
"An antique spinning wheel..."

That day at the auction no one was the wiser
for what they 'might have' spent their pennies on.

jan doble
may 4, 2008

Psychology

ReadWritePoem's Prompt #24 for April 28-May 5 is to write something using jargon from your specific profession or area of study, work or employment: Here is mine--

PSYCHOLOGY Acrostic:

P...Psychotherapy

S...Social Psychology

Y...Youth & Family Counseling

C...Clinical & Counseling Psychology

H...Holistic & Health Psychology

O...Organizational Psychology

L...Learning & Memory Theories

O...Objectivity vs Subjectivity

G...Group Counseling

Y...Yalom & Existentialism

jan doble
may 4, 2008

Under My Umbrella

The following prompts at Simply Snickers for this week are:

UMBRELLA UNDER PUDDLE PROMISE

Under My Umbrella:
As a co-worker and I walked to our cars
after work one day last year
the bursting clouds gave way,
creating an unbelievable downpour.

I opened the UMBRELLA that
I conveniently kept in my purse
and PROMISED my umbrella-less friend
that she could walk UNDER mine

-if she could jump over a PUDDLE
without stepping in it.
As fate would have it my friend
missed the pavement (on the other side

of the puddle), landing in a deep pothole.
Long story short: she didn't need to
take advantage of my umbrella after all,
as the ambulance kept her dry.

jan doble
may 2, 2008