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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes.
Posted: 10/8/2005 11:21:09 AM | Women unite! From the beginning of human existence men have told and written the stories of history down through the ages. This thread is for women that have their own history, their own stories to tell. I truly believe that story telling is a healing art and that women are the natural healers in our society.
In this thread please feel free to write any poem or short story you feel is suitable. I also encourage you to submit quotes, or what I call "clippings," of women that you find worth sharing. These do not have to be famous quotes by famous women, maybe a wise saying by your mother or grandmother, but I do ask that when you are quoting someone that you give them credit for that quote.
I also would like to suggest that you comment on the story, poem or quote that was written before your own. Of course encouragement is warmly welcome here, but constructive criticism is also invited as well. But let's acknowledge the sacred act of story telling or the placement of the hearts of others on the screen.
"Women will starve in silence until new stories are created which confer on them the power of naming themselves-------Sandra Gilbert and Susan Gubar
"Do not follow where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail"-------Muriel Strode
"We write to discover our overlooked joys and to forget our overrated pain." ----Sue Harp | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 10/8/2005 11:22:13 AM | This poem I wrote for a relationship that I started from the internet, I'm not quite sure if those relationships ever really work out. Im beginning to think that internet dating is just a recipe for a broken heart.
Closer Than They Appear
Why am I still here, just anticipating
Always waiting, waiting, waiting
Seems like Im always in your rearview mirror
Getting smaller and smaller till I disappear
I must stand alone and need you from here
Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 10/8/2005 11:23:06 AM | Life is intertwined with drama and evolution. The more conscience we are of our process of every moment that that slips by, the more enlightened we may become. There are those of us who are dragged around by life, letting life take us where it sees fit, but there are those of us that create the life we live no matter what the circumstances. I am one to be a little more proactive in my life, although control isn't always mine, I make the best of what I have.
We are creatures of nature, human nature, and we tend to grab the golden ring for ourselves at the price of others. We must learn to create our own life experiences, to take what he have for ourselves and to build on the positive. Even the way we view ourselves is indicative of the history we will write in the art of self discovery.
In my memories and my rebirth of memories, I try my best to hold on to truth. But truth can be objectified, whittled down to the sum of it's parts. Looking at situations and scenarios the truth can be found more easily in the form of its whole. We cannot look to open ended stories and loose ends in search of concrete truth. I feel that no truth can be set in stone, as I have seen in the past, time has disrupted the settled truth, the facts as we knew them. I believe that total truth is meant only for God's ears. We as mere mortals could never be certain of all reality, we were born with questions in our mouths and stories in our hearts.
The path I have chosen to arrive at this destination of self discovery is through my writing. We all write for various reasons, and when we do write we live our experiences again. I find great healing and comfort in that. We write to discover our overlooked joys and to forget our overrated pain. Breaking my life down to chapter and verse has been very cathartic for me and has been a precise instrument of the healing process. So I am driven to write I could not stop myself, as I find it as essential as eating and breathing, with infinite obsession I must put these words to the page.
"Men are taught to apologize for their weaknesses, women for their strengths--Lois Wyse | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 10/8/2005 11:25:03 AM | This poem I wrote was for a friend of mine, she just got out of this marriage a year ago thank, God, but the emotional damage that was inflicted was so great.
She Stays
Broke down
and busted
Her mind
Is not her own
Worn down
by abuse
Neglect
She stays
No choices
She chooses
Not to choose
She stays
After 25 years
She's still here
She stays
Her home
He pays
She stays
Brainwashed
Over the years
All measured
Through tears
She stays
Emotional branding
Is left standing
She stays | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 10/8/2005 11:25:56 AM | The Man Under the Stares
He pulls himself out from underneath his rock
Propelling under reviled motivations
Molesting atmospheres drift
Others whisper
Turn away
He waits in line a little longer
Craving service of the weak
Darting destroying eyes
He has stealth
He is patient with his blade
Searching
Searching out the right moment in time
A hand not held
A distracted mother
A horror a heartbeat away
"It takes a Village"---Hillary Clinton | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 10/8/2005 11:27:00 AM | watched the timed movement of breath that filled your chest
Fluid and gentle like a wave that sweeps and rolls to a soft crest
Slightly leaning forward catching that sweet breath in my ear
I was entranced, elated, the whisperings of angels were so clear
As I lay there, lost in infinity in your tantric kiss
I became home, it became mine, this perfect bliss
"The sensual is a reality in itself"---------Susan Griffin | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 10/8/2005 11:28:04 AM | Beyond Borders
Be careful now step around the pain
Take notice of your self invented rain
Dream of things of only what you lack
Give it all away expect to never get back
I have decided on love in random orders
This heart will not go beyond the borders
If I want love I look for love in myself
Stowed away on some dusty little shelf
We can only be
What we see
In ourselves individually
Mend your wounds all the ripping little tears
In loving yourself you'll show others you care
"This is so clear that you
might miss it.
The fire you're looking for
Lights your own lantern,
Your rice was already cooked
The day you went looking | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 10/8/2005 11:28:56 AM | This poem was written when I was angry and though my anger made me feel poweful, I realized that I was pretty much powerless, so to speak. My insurance company wrongfully withdrew a payment out of my account and my electricity was turned off. It took them 5 long days to credit my account so I could get my power back.
Suzi Lightning
My name is Suzi Lightning, I am the arc welding force of nature, I split
trees and I burn
Thunder worships me and I settle for nothing as speed allows me to win on my
own terms
I am born of the clouds and designed to leave my mark
I am after thought, a ball of light, created in unkind spark
I never need to be touched, no one gets in my way
I raise my electrified voice, people listen to what i say
My name is Suzi Lightning and I will show all the power I have to disperse
Stand in my way, try to stop me, you will regret and it's me you will curse
For many I am a truly powerful force, I am only but the disapproving look of God
Ashes to ashes dust to dust, beware humans, to me, you are just an upright lightning rod | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 10/8/2005 11:29:29 AM | This poem was written about an abusive relationship. The paths that have brought me here today have been very rocky. But I learned somewhere down the line that if the stone can not be rolled away, it is best to walk around and leave it behind.
Broken Bones
Crushed and crumpled
Tossed and tumbled
Unforgiving zones
Yielding broken bones
Stares hard as steel
Skin starts to peel
Knocked back blistered in your eyes
Ears calloused to sorrowful cries
I know its not me that you see
Just as I know it never will be
I try
I cry
But I know that Im alone
With these broken bones | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 10/8/2005 11:29:58 AM | Choices
Memories of warmth and sun spring from dark and deep
These are the cherished memories of our lives we keep
To breathe in scents filled from a long ago past
To live in the present of light and shadow cast
To look back to see all things that bring a smile
To know it was all worth the journey mile by mile
I am lost between memories and what the future brings
Knowing I am not alone and this song I hear others sing
Rejoice in our triumphs and lend a hand to those who are falling
Remember we are all born of one earth, hear her children calling
I am in stillness now all these self made memories stolen from life's pages
I dwell in peace now, finally free from all limiting and unwarranrted rages
For last I looked I found a new place to dwell
With choices made between my heaven or hell | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 10/8/2005 11:30:29 AM | Spring
Biting words, stronger than their rejection
Sift through the air in constant suspension
The hard stares and the ghastly growls
Foundations shake, deep to the bowels
I never wanted to hear what came off your lips
Dead words contained like the bodies in crypts
What is the point when all that is said is left undone
Dying promises left at the wayside and dried emotion
Reconstitute me with a force giving life please
Refusal to react is killing while you are at ease
I hate your smuggness and your deactivated emotional power
I cant believe I lived with this for so long hour by hour by hour
Now that youre gone its my turn, its my song that I will sing
A birth of new growth pushes its way out, an emotional spring | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 10/8/2005 11:33:09 AM | Life lease is strong from the pages I write
Looking back causes for pause a second sight
Im set in the difference, trying to belong here to you
But you turn away tell me its no good, what am I to do
Life moves in cycles there are always changes to be seen
My moves are stagnant as though Im caught in between
You left me for another who was more deserving of the truth
The lies you formulated against me, that was my solid proof
Our vows to the other, all the promises that were made
One eye caught by another, how quickly it all fades
Your moves are deliberate and calculating I must turn a blind eye
Burned beyond recognition, force fed on grief, all I can do is try
What you left ingrained in me will all turn around someday
Youll look to me with what you have left, I will walk away | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 10/8/2005 11:37:23 AM | This poem was written when I was angry and though my anger made me feel poweful, I realized that I was pretty much powerless, so to speak. My insurance company wrongfully withdrew a payment out of my account and my electricity was turned off. It took them 5 long days to credit my account so I could get my power back.
Suzi Lightning
My name is Suzi Lightning, I am the arc welding force of nature, I split
trees and I burn
Thunder worships me and I settle for nothing as speed allows me to win on my
own terms
I am born of the clouds and designed to leave my mark
I am after thought, a ball of light, created in unkind spark
I never need to be touched, no one gets in my way
I raise my electrified voice, people listen to what i say
My name is Suzi Lightning and I will show all the power I have to disperse
Stand in my way, try to stop me, you will regret and it's me you will curse
For many I am a truly powerful force, I am only but the disapproving look of God
Ashes to ashes dust to dust, beware humans, to me, you are just an upright lightning rod | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 10/8/2005 11:38:49 AM | This poem was written about an abusive relationship. The paths that have brought me here today have been very rocky. But I learned somewhere down the line that if the stone can not be rolled away, it is best to walk around and leave it behind.
Broken Bones
Crushed and crumpled
Tossed and tumbled
Unforgiving zones
Yielding broken bones
Stares hard as steel
Skin starts to peel
Knocked back blistered in your eyes
Ears calloused to sorrowful cries
I know its not me that you see
Just as I know it never will be
I try
I cry
But I know that Im alone
With these broken bones | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 10/8/2005 11:39:31 AM | Choices
Memories of warmth and sun spring from dark and deep
These are the cherished memories of our lives we keep
To breathe in scents filled from a long ago past
To live in the present of light and shadow cast
To look back to see all things that bring a smile
To know it was all worth the journey mile by mile
I am lost between memories and what the future brings
Knowing I am not alone and this song I hear others sing
Rejoice in our triumphs and lend a hand to those who are falling
Remember we are all born of one earth, hear her children calling
I am in stillness now all these self made memories stolen from life's pages
I dwell in peace now, finally free from all limiting and unwarranrted rages
For last I looked I found a new place to dwell
With choices made between my heaven or hell | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 10/8/2005 11:40:46 AM | This is a poem that I like to read when I'm feeling a little down, funny though, when I wrote this poem I felt very strong and so full of myself, but now it helps me in my weakest times.
New Seasons Ahead
Often when depression manages our lives we must look to new seasons ahead
Change is the healer in life like yeast is to flour to bread
Become nourished by life whether jagged hearts or soft smiles it leaves behind
Open doors are to the heart, what freedom is to the mind
Dont live life in degrees and inches only measuring the life, life takes from you
Time is the judge and will decide what is true or not true
We cannot challenge time we can not force his ever moving infinite hand
For new seasons ahead is to the future as love is to understand
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 10/8/2005 11:41:20 AM | Life lease is strong from the pages I write
Looking back causes for pause a second sight
Im set in the difference, trying to belong here to you
But you turn away tell me its no good, what am I to do
Life moves in cycles there are always changes to be seen
My moves are stagnant as though Im caught in between
You left me for another who was more deserving of the truth
The lies you formulated against me, that was my solid proof
Our vows to the other, all the promises that were made
One eye caught by another, how quickly it all fades
Your moves are deliberate and calculating I must turn a blind eye
Burned beyond recognition, force fed on grief, all I can do is try
What you left ingrained in me will all turn around someday
Youll look to me with what you have left, I will walk away | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 10/8/2005 11:44:31 AM | Hues of Compassion
The sun is slipping under the horizon
The day is negotiating it's silent end
All is still in my tranquil repose quiet within
The sun is telling his secrets to the stars
The distracted moon she is just a sliver
I recount my acts of the day and softly smile
Actions of kindness today no need of denial
Today I could only react in deep compassion
No thought to what's all the rage or fashion
Today i just wandered through the day my heart my guide
Today love and generousity were both there at my side
Now the colors are set the ink it has dried
Compassion paints my world true and tried | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 10/8/2005 11:44:57 AM | Broken Bits
Broken bits are everywhere, I see them all around
Theyre in the stairwells, on the sidewalks and on the ground
Living our lives in broken bits we are always creating more
Adding, always adding, then sweeping them from the floor
I see the broken bits of the homeless in their delapidated cardboard signs
I see broken bits of lives not fitting into their carefully planned out designs
I see broken bits of hearts scattered to the winds
What kind of broken bits life do you find you are in | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 10/8/2005 11:45:24 AM | Looking at the Past
Looking at life in retrospection
Gives me pause for some direction
Some say dont look back move on ahead
But sometimes rest is found in historys bed
Ill live my life in light forms and in shadows cast
Ill live my life seeing my future not reliving the past
In these times of uncertaintiy theres no perfect way of living
So for now Ill live in this blend this balance of taking and giving
For looking at the past can be so positive too
For looking towards the future so fresh and new | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 10/8/2005 11:46:14 AM | What are the motivations that move us down the street
What are the reflections that you see in the eyes that you meet
Where are the inspirations where do they all come from
Where is the dedication that we crave where has it begun
Walking the path of life we need to stop, look and see
All these begin with the one called the one and only me
To look past the problems the need to understand
Must come within every child, woman and man
We are what we project
We become what we suspect
To edit our lives by numbers and loves lost
Lays waste and not worth the cost
Use your life to pave a better road
Rejoice in your story of you being told
Take pride in all that you do
Learn to love the one who is you | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 10/8/2005 11:46:32 AM | I have felt limited so crushed
Ive been paralyzed by this virus
Who is left to inspire us
Put the fire in us
Who is the leader with answers complete
Who do we look to in the eye of defeat
This earth is spinning beneath my feet
Who lights the way down the dark street
I am always under the movement of motivation
Where are the higher ideals the innovations
Where is love and compassion in human creation
We sing we raise our voices in steady incantation
To be set apart to fly on this spiritual plane
Instead we'll second guess our choices in the rain
With our cries for love and our emotional stain
Tears are shed and heads are hung in shame
We are all prone to blame
Blame the shame
Shame the blame
It's not the same | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 10/8/2005 11:47:15 AM | The Tree House
Growing up in Iowa, has held some wonderful memories for me, and some of those memories have become as magical, as they were in my childhood, in my adulthood. I recently took a trip back to Iowa last summer, to see people that I havent seen in 35 years is strange to say the least.
There was this wonderful, magical place for me to go in younger days that I was always drawn to. Our house sat at the end of a long gravel drive, nestled between a modest urban sprawl and a farmers field. Behind the field was a tree line, that is a common sight in the midwest, offering the fields protection from the wind and snow. In this tree line was a very strong tall tree, that supported in it's branches, a much loved and weather worn tree house.
I used to climb high up into those welcoming wooden arms to the treehouse where I, a child of 8 could rise above, sit in judgement, and look down at the world. This was especially important to me as I have always been short in stature my whole life and always had to look up to everyone from my piers to tall dogs. I remember so many things in that tree house that seemed as though no one but myself ever heard or ever saw.
I remember laying on the rough weathered boards, and hearing the rustle of the leaves being convinced it was a gentle applause meant only for a childs ears. I remember laying on the rough hewn pine boards and breathing in deep their heated, sun baked, earthy aroma filling both my mind and my nostrils with these memories that are not likely to be forgotten even after 42 years. I did not know why that place held so much magic for me, I only knew that it did.
After returning to my home after 35 years I was amazed to find all the changes that had taken place in my home town. I also was surprised to learn that my beloved tree line had become a sanctuary for a pair swans that had started nesting there. I always knew it was special, I always knew it was magical, and I guess the swans knew that too. After talking to my brother I learned that no swans had been known to nest in the whole state of Iowa for over 150 years. That of all the places they couldve chose for their nesting site, they chose my magical place, it was childhood confirmation.
Although I dont have the answers as to why that place meant so much to me or why I felt such a strong connection, what I do know is, Im glad the tree grew, Im glad that I climbed it, and im glad that the swans sensed the magic of it all. | |
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