Visions Of Love

Lord, I can't believe that it has been six months without me posting. All I can say is that there has been a lot going on in my 'real' life. Trying to retain a thought when there are 3 (or 4) monsters constantly vying for my attention is almost always non-productive. Anyway, I guess I'm in a wistful mood today or at least I'm trying to be. :) Poem: Visions Of Love

Visions of Love

Let’s walk along the water’s edge
Where the willows do their weeping
And listen for the Loons to sing
Their sweet haunting song of loving

We’ll lie upon a bed of grass
To watch the warm summer sunset
While you hold me tight within your arms
Planting visions we’ll never forget

Let’s gaze upon the evening sky
Counting the many stars above
And speak the words we long to say
Proclaiming the depth of our love

A cooling breeze begins to drift
Upon the wind so sweet a scent
Engulfing us with its’ appeal
Believing it must be heaven sent

We can watch the moon run its’ course
Knowing its’ beauty is ours alone
Fore our love is one uncommon
And its’ beauty no other has known

Susan Palmer-Davis

Copyright ©2005
All Rights Reserved

Being Human and The Nature of Man

I never was a social butterfly. I never had a best friend when I was young; I had my sister. My first and only best friend I met in 9th grade and of all places, in history class. I say of all places because the one class I actually hated in school was history; any history, and that included government. As a teen I knew a lot of people and as people will do we called each other friends, but I was never really close to any of them. My best friend and I have had spats and separations throughout the years but I’ve always seen her as my best friend. Growing older and turning into adults she stayed in my hometown and I followed my first husband wherever he wanted to go. Whether it was Kansas for a year, then back home to Oklahoma City, or California for another year, then Texas for two and a half years and finally home (Oklahoma City) again. Actually he had to follow me home cause I refused to go anywhere with him that I couldn’t reach family for help if I needed it; and of course I did need it. Sorry, I’m getting off the subject. Anyway, she stayed in the hometown where we grew up, but I hated that town too much to go back. The only reason I ever went there again was to see her.

I’ve lived a lot of places and met a lot of people but I’ve never felt the kind of friendship I’ve had with her. As an adult I learned how to be a good hostess and always loved having people over. There were a few people that I clicked with more than others, but there never was anyone like her. Now I’m old and I can’t drive everywhere. My medicine makes my reflexes less than perfect and I wouldn’t want to have an accident. Still I think of her all the time, but days are busy and nights are too late to call.

Now the loneliness is so deep and complete it is almost too much to bear. I don’t think the anti-depressants are working. There are too many sleepless nights and days that are much too long. There are too many tears and not enough smiles or laughter.

There are two poems with this posting; because I couldn’t choose one over the other. Poems: Being Human and The Nature of Man

Being Human

When young I was rather quick to decide
Everything that I wanted in my life
Picking and choosing each step of the way
Very little did I choose to deny

I made a vow many years ago
Not to regret the choices I made
But I was young and very naïve
To think it was that easy to age

Regrets? Oh Lord, there have been many
Far too many to try to recall
Each decade brings its own small follies
While I’m left with a mind that sees all

It’s the way life makes us remember
Every memory that’s left behind
Hoping the next step will be better
And in the end we’ll find peace of mind

It’s our spirit that regains its strength
Through the times that we happen to fall
Oh how the heart does ache from hindsight
The curse of being human after all

Susan Palmer-Davis
©2002
All Rights Reserved


The Nature of Man

Is it not the nature of the beast
to strive hardest to survive
when so brought to the brink of death
to find a deeper strength inside

Is it not imbedded in the soul
A need to continue living
A need to breathe without great thought
To simply go on without thinking

Is it not the desire of the heart
To achieve complete understanding
To casually delve into the mind
And retrieve what becomes demanding

Might it be that we fear so greatly
That which to us is still the unknown
Or maybe we harbor secret thoughts
that only allow our fears to grow

So do not fear that which is our fate
Even when the drawing is so strong
And know whatever the day does bring
our essence will forever live on

Susan Palmer-Davis
©2003
All Rights Reserved

Lost Passion

Passion, what a wonderful word. When spoken it evokes many different pictures (thoughts) from everyone. My passion has always been writing; whether it was my poetry or just my thoughts. I couldn’t write enough! Always had a note book somewhere close so that I could jot down whatever came to mind. The problem is, ever since I got sick with Congestive Heart Failure I’ve had to take a blood pressure pill. It didn’t take long before I realized that the passion I have for writing was being affected by the pill. Actually, all the medicine that I take could be contributing to the lack of passion and/or the depression I’ve been feeling for so long.

What can I say that hasn’t been said before? What can I feel that no other has felt? I long for the same things that most people long for. I’ve found some, just as many others have. So what is causing this debilitating sadness? This feeling of loss or of some blackened shadow that seems to be just out of reach or hidden around the next corner.

Passion: an ember that ignites from a spark of imagination. Then begins to grow, burning brighter as it feeds on the dreams that hope allows. Take hope away and the ember lies dormant, waiting to breathe again… it must breathe again! Poem: Lost Passion

Lost Passion

Oh Lover of Life come visit me now
Remind me the way it should be somehow
For I need to feel that passion again
That laughter and joy from somewhere within

The warmth that is felt when you see a child smile
The sound of their laughter never tainted by guile
The glow that you feel when they look up to you
For guidance, acceptance, yes your heart, too

Then there's that first step, first date, and first car
Milestones as they grow to be who they are
Watching the years pass and seeing them change
Nothing prepares you for the years that remain

I'm not just a mother, I know that is true
But now I don't know just what I should do
I've lost that edge, that passion and desire
That ability to break away from the mire

When young your love you give too easily
That's how you wind up as jaded as me
Don't chastise me yet, 'cause I’ve lost my way
It's easy to do just living each day

Susan Palmer-Davis
©2007
All Rights Reserved

Dreams

Sleep has always been the way to healing for me. Usually the worse I feel, the more sleep I seem to need. If I’m able to get that sleep, then I can work through anything that is thrown at me. So when I have those sleepless nights and the longer they plague me the harder it is to get better. Dreams are simply another place I can go to appease my need for fantasy. I seldom have really bad dreams. Fantasy, now that is an interesting word! There are many kinds of fantasy. I seem to favor the ‘life is great and it always works out for the best, for me’ type. Why have fantasy if it isn’t an improvement on the real world? Anyway, the poem for today is: Dreams


Dreams

Some say that dreams are wishful thinking
Surely it must be partially so
Cause when life isn’t what it should be
The heart must have some place it can go

Memories hide within dreams often
Waiting there to come alive again
With each dream the candle is relit
Into our dreams we now can descend

But then there are those lonely nights
When sleep and dreams just will not come
You toss and turn or walk the floor
Waiting for this night to be done

Oh weaver of dreams where are you now
It’s been so long since you came to me
I’ve had the need of your gentle touch
To ease my pain and to set me free

Help me to escape into the bliss
And comfort I find within those dreams
Release me from the pain of this world
Let me feel the comfort that you bring

Sprinkle your magic upon me
Into your world let me collapse
And dream the dreams of innocence
To the future or from the past

Susan Palmer-Davis
©2006
All Rights Reserved

Stranger

Sometimes I feel like I’m going to lose my mind. Frustration, anger…I’ve always been able to handle without the fear that I might not be able. Even now, I know I can survive any fit or damaging reaction; I just can’t handle this fear. I don’t know why it possesses me. When I was young I took a class called ‘Knowledge Replaces Fear.’ I did real well with it and apparently it has lasted these many years. Now for some reason it isn’t working any more. The fears I have now are those that I have little, if any, knowledge of. So what do I do now? How do I trust anyone to know the answers, and to be honest with me about them? How do I deal with something when my resources for that dealing are slowly slipping away? I have allowed this conception to consume me. It invades my every thought. Like a poisonous gas, it seeps into my total being. Reforming, changing and continuing to do its dirty work.

Well after writing this and only having 4 hours sleep I went to the doctor for my 3 month diabetes checkup. While there the doctor and I discussed this situation with my thoughts and I gave in! I am now taking an antidepressant. If it doesn’t help then I’ve only lost a little money and time. If it causes more problems I’m not sure if I will try a different one. I haven’t eaten any extra sugar today so I don’t know why I feel shaky …hope it doesn’t last cause I really don’t like it. New poem: Stranger I’m sure that I will be doing some editing on it, but not sure when it will come to me.

Stranger

A stranger even to my own mind
With no familiar road to follow
Trapped within my own pathetic cell
Stunned while weakness bores my heart hollow

So many dark thoughts invade my mind
Sending me to places unholy
Binding me with too many untruths
And leaving despair to torture me

Filling well every crack and cranny
Of this weakened mind that now betrays
With bile from lies spoken in anger
Strengthened by retelling along the way

I’ve seen the wickedness despair brings
Enveloping all that it touches
Dripping, oozing from a bleeding heart
Slowly destroying all that’s righteous

Lord, please let me find myself again
Asked in a whisper, this pain felt plea
I really don’t know how I got here
This person I’ve become is not me

Susan Palmer-Davis
©8/2010
All Rights Reserved

A December Night

Today I noticed that I have been thinking about winter a lot lately. Maybe that’s not as bazaar as you might think. The weather here in Oklahoma has been in the high 90’s ever since it stopped raining. Being that hot you might as well say it’s been in the 100’s because the heat index generally makes it about 10° higher. I never have enjoyed being out and about when the sun is that hot; I burn too easily. I’ve never been able to have a ‘nice’ tan, it’s either burn or nothing at all. My sister and brother get tan but I’ve always been the totally white one in the bunch.

I took my niece to the Dermatologist once, I was in my middle to late 20’s at the time. The doctor came in the room and at once started painting a fearful picture for me. The way he said what he did I imagined the picture right away: Don’t even open your door while the sun is out, if you must go out, cover yourself with the highest sunscreen you can get, if you can’t wear a hat then use an umbrella. But don’t go out unless you absolutely have to. I asked him why and he told me I had the kind of skin that can get cancer easily. Then he pointed out the old farmers that would get skin cancer and said that I had the same skin type. After a few moments trying to keep myself from panicking I told him it was my niece that was there to see him. I really have a problem with people that feel they can just walk up to me and say anything, no matter how scary or necessary it might be. With my imagination I’m surprised that I’ve not attacked anyone when they do this. My normal reaction to confrontation is to advance, not retreat! I know he was just wanting to help me, but he didn’t know me from Adam and he didn’t know how I would react…he was a very excitable man, I must say.

Anyway, the heat seems to be on everyone’s mind at the moment. So naturally I’m there too. I feel sorry for my grand children because I won’t let them play out when it is this hot. They have to get up early or wait until it starts getting dark, then they can go out. But once you let them go out they wind up coming back in within five minutes. Then it becomes ‘the battle of the flies’ and makes me so pissed that I make them stay in anyway. There are four (I think that I have mentioned that) and the in and outs of a normal day causes the house to be bombarded with flies. I hate flies!!! Plus it sure keeps the house hotter than it need be. I won’t cook when I have to fight for space with flies. I know I’m probably obsessive about it, but that’s just the way the cookies crumble…Anyway the poem for today is: A December Night

A December Night

On a moon lit night in deep December
When the world was covered in icy white
All were abed within peaceful slumber
Save one who was having a restless night

She sits staring out her bedroom window
Looking for what, she really did not know
Searching the grounds for shadows, familiar
But all that was familiar was the snow

A sigh escapes her full, ruby red lips
As she leans her head on the window sill
Not understanding for what she is searching
Yet feeling it’s something beyond her will

Her eyes, the color of dark chocolate
Almond shaped, with lashes of velvet black
Begin to fill with tears of deep longing
A longing for something she knows she lacks

The moon gently lights her long, golden locks
Shinning about her head like a halo
Illuminating her silky night gown
With what appears as an unearthly glow

Soon she turns her attention to the fire
For the sight of memories that it keeps
But even the fire does not reveal
Any of the mysteries buried so deep

White flakes begin to fall softly again
As the night slowly drifts into new scenes
No answers have been found for her this time
Perhaps she will find them within her dreams

Susan Palmer-Davis
©2006
All Rights Reserved

Fantasy Sprite

I've not been on line much the last couple of days. Spent yesterday mostly sleeping, today was much the same. It is the end of the month and it has been a long one for me. Longer yet for Tony, since he is working out in the weather. So many times I find myself just basically going through the motions by the end of the month. We get paid only once a month and sometimes that last week just drags on.

My daughter-in-law has been off work the last three weeks, maybe four-I'm not all that great at remembering one week to the next. Her being home has taken a lot of the stress out of my everyday. The kids (there are 4 of them-6, 4, 2, and 1) still come and bug me about stuff ‘cause they know that I will give them what they want when their mom says no. I'm doing that a little less (I do try to remember that she is calling the shots right now)...lol but they are my grandbabies and I've been taking care of them for quite some time now. It is nicer being just grandma (Nana). I think she will want to go back to work after a while...she likes having the extra money and being around other people her age (or just different people than us). I'm hoping that it is a while before she does, ‘cause each day/week/month they get older and easier for me to handle.

School starts the 21 of Aug. here. Ethan will be 5 the last of Oct. So unless we can get him into pre-k he will not start school until next year. Sean has been teaching Ethan and the girls counting or rather Sean taught Ethan, Ethan then taught the girls. It is funny hearing the 1 year old (ok, close to two) walking around singing the numbers. So the little imp (Isa) running around getting into things reminded me of this poem:


Fantasy Sprite

Oh Squanderer of youth you tickle my fancy
Rushing in for a peek and off again dancing
Around and around ‘fore I can catch my breath
Making me wonder what it is that you’ve left

Whimsically plying your mind freeing song
Touching and teasing taunting me along
Offering your fantasies so pleasing to hear
Tinkling of your moonbeams sounding so clear

Sun risings, sunsets, full moons and even the tides
All bring something different and pleasant to this ride
You force me to stop to see things through your eyes
And bring a Wind Song to blow sweetly through my life

Wind kissing my face and rushing through my hair
Freeing my mind from the stagnation of cares
Here but a brief moment then so quickly you’ve gone
Leaving part of your spirit with this new gentle song

A fantasy sprite my mind says you must be
Riding along on your beautiful light streams
Oh how your laughter invades this jaded mind
Reminding me there was once another place and time

Susan Palmer-Davis
©2001
All Rights Reserved