Dnotations by Dsorceress

Dmonstrating Dliteful Dmentia


They say that eyes are the windows of the soul.
But often, when I look into your eyes,
I see only a reflection of myself.
And yet, I cannot be certain that it is really
Me that you see.
I wonder: is this image you hold close;
this wondrous, cherished icon
Only a product of your infatuation?
I cannot seem to recognize this person
that is reflected in your stunning eyes.
I understand you would not lie to me;
At least, not by design.
And yet, I have to caution myself
That when I see myself reflected in your eyes
I am looking at an image enhanced by love
And not the base reality.
And yet again, I wonder:
Dare I to claim, at least in part
the wonder that you see when you look at me?
I know you for what you are.
I see without imagining.
I hear without amplifying.
I feel without embellishing.
And knowing this, I also know
That you are not a fool.
So; it comes to the harder questions.
Am I then, to accept
That in fact I am what you seem to see?
And if so, then how
To reconcile the truths that I know
With the image of beauty I vicariously share?
I have never been as brave as you.
Then again, it is not so hard, I think, to be brave
When the whole of that bravery is based
On simply being who you are
Without dissembling.
Not hard, when the reality
Is such magnificence.
You blaze like the Sun on the first morning of the world.
I turn like a sunflower to track you.
Turning towards the light that spills from you
Defining you sharply
Announcing to the world
That here you are.
And I, who have always stood in the shadows,
I see what you are, and I wonder
That you would even notice me.
I, who for so long have stood
Outside looking in.
I realize that I too am a Firechild;
A Lioness; element of flame.
But I know that my fire has been banked;
the hearth cold
the embers barely glowing.
Your fire calls to mine
And whispers promises of conflagration;
A shared immolation, awakening hidden desire
That I had long since foregone.
And I feel the rekindling of those embers,
Stirred by your passion,
Flame calling to flame,
Each challenging the other to flare even brighter
Setting the night ablaze with our joining.
I cannot ignore the force of your heat.
I cannot refuse to dance in that fire.
I cannot deny that the flame I believed
To be under control
Touched off a firestorm when exposed
To the veriest guarded flicker
In your regard.
And here you are,
Basking in my shy smile of delight
And I have to ask myself:
Can I really be
What I see reflected in your eyes?

Troubled Waters

The world turns,
And the oceans wash her shores.
Like the waves caress the sands,
Ever restless, never staying,
So too does my heart
Endlessly approach and then retreat,
Entreat and then forbear,
Engulf and then withdraw.
Like a playful child at times,
My soul runs laughing in the Sun of your regard,
But then the clouds roll in,
And the shadows loom,
And my spirit falters in the sudden darkness.
Memory, twisted and deformed,
Teems with images of demons never tamed,
Half-hidden but well remembered in the murk.
The scars left by the ravening of Bitterness and Despair
Begin to ache; a sharp reminder,
A tapestry of torment woven of remembered pain;
A burning history of anguish riven into the very
Fibers of my psyche.
And like a child caught meddling
In a room they were told never to enter
So too I blanch, and start,
And try to assume an air of innocence
At variance with the choking sensation
Provided by my heart lodged deep in my throat.
The moment passes;
The shadows retreat,
Chased away by the brilliance of you
As clouds passing before the sun,
And once again I resume the endless ebb and flow
The dance of attraction and suspicion.
And although I emerge into the light unscathed this time,
The joyous abandon in the dance
Is now tempered by doubt.
As the tides are inexoribly drawn by the tugging of celestial forces
Crashing thunderously upon the steady shoreline
Only to turn upon themselves and rush back to the deeper sea;
So too am I driven to approach the splendor of your spirit.
Each time my soul is pulled a little farther up the sands
Before the churning terror in the depths commands a retreat.
My heart rides the crest of this wave
Unable to withdraw completely;
Unable to advance;
Trembling with uncertainty...
You must
You can't....
The tide is in.

I can feel it.
In the distance,
Across the uneasy surf,
A warning, a subtle whisper,
A chilling tendril of fear,
Rising like a night mist,
Obscuring the shoreline,
Shrouding my spirit,
Enveloping my soul.
Uneasy, I test the wind, Searching for the source of my disquiet,
But there is only a sense of mocking laughter
And the skittering of many legs
Vanishing in the gloom.
Thoroughly alarmed now,
Fighting the urge to plunge into the darkness
Seeking a direction,
A haven, a sanctuary.....
I can feel it moving closer.
The breeze picks up,
Stirring the thickening fog;
Images form in the curling eddies,
Fantastic shapes that rear and then dissipate,
Beckoning and entreating,
Looming and dissolving,
Shattering my nerve.
Turning in every direction,
Searching desperately for a way out,
I realize that I am trapped;
I would flee now if I could,
But there is nowhere to go.
The sickening cloud surrounds me,
Suffocating me,
Offering me no familiar landmark,
No sense of up or down,
Left or right,
Near or far;
Brought to bay, I stand panting,
Watching the cool mist encroach.
Powerless to stop the advance,
I shudder at its oily touch
And then succumb to its embrace.
A part of me screams in defiance,
Impotent, shaking with fury and revulsion,
As once again the gray curtain descends,
Insulating me from all sense of self;
Washed clean of all feeling,
I watch dispassionatly as my soul beats frantically,
Desperately at the shimmering barrier that prevents its exposure
To the world.
I am mildly interested
In this display of naked panic
On the part of my spirit;
It is not as if this enclosure were an unfamiliar one.
Bemused, I watch as my image
Flings itself again and yet again at the cool smooth walls,
Pacing like a caged Lioness,
A wild thing trammeled;
Searching ceaselessly for a weakness,
A flaw to be exploited.
It is of no moment.
I know from long experience
That there are no weaknesses in those walls;
They cannot be breached from within,
Only from without.
Still, the spirit coils restlessly in its crystalline cage,
Observing without participating,
Snarling softly
Biding its time.
I pause to reflect for a moment,
Free of the encumbrance of feeling,
I consider the sundered self,
Wondering idly why it should fight so hard
For an existence so fraught with peril?
Much better to lounge
Safely protected,
Sheltered, nurtured,
Insulated from the harsh realities,
Insurmountable defense against the storms of passion,
Buttressed against misfortune and pain.
I shake my head in bemusement;
At a loss to explain such foolishness.
I look upon myself and see
Seeing myself
Looking in from without
Looking out from within,
From within;
I utter a snort of contempt.
A rumble of exasperation that fades to a whimper,
As I once again prowl the limits of my prison,
And regard myself through the distorted surface
As clear as tempered glass
As impenetrable as tempered steel.
I am familiar with this place,
I lived here for many years;
It is familiar, and safe,
And at the moment, utterly insufferable.
I rage at the confines,
Sick with the knowledge
That no one but me can recognise the Other;
I watch, and can only distantly sense
This entity that wears my face
And shares my voice
And tears away the part of me that is real
To replace it with a caricature,
An image of form without substance.
A perfect copy of myself,
Capable of fulfilling all the duties,
Performing all the obligations,
Masquerading flawlessly as myself
Going through the motions,
But unable to go beyond them to the purpose
That gives them meaning.
I watch, unable to reach through to you,
Unable to touch you,
Groaning within as I see your puzzled glance.
I recognize your confusion,
And as I will the Other to tell you there is nothing to fear,
Hoping to alleviate your distress,
I know that you are disquieted;
I can see in your eyes that you do not understand,
That you can feel the distance now between us,
And I see you trying to find your way,
Searching for the kindred spirit
Who seems to be before you
But is just beyond you grasp.
And so again, I channel
All the will that is within me,
Reaching, striving to close the distance,
I call upon the bond between us;
Hoping against hope that you will hear my cries,
And come to my rescue,
Breaching the walls of my prison,
Shattering the barriers between us,
Calling me home to you....
The tide is out.

I can feel you.
No matter where you are,
No matter where I am,
I can feel you.
Much like the vistage of home,
When one has been long upon the road,
Footsore and weary.
The prospect of home,
The promise of hot food, and cold drink;
Bright lights, and pleasant company,
The warmth of a fire,
The comfort of sharing simple pleasures,
All of this, and more
You are to me.
Safe harbor from rough seas;
Warm shelter from driven storms;
Bright playmate for sunny days;
Fires of passion in the moonlit nights;
All of this, and more
You are to me.
I stand bemused;
Wondering how long this may last.
Will it vanish like a soap bubble,
A shimmering, tiny rainbow of delight,
Lofting up in the playful breeze
Only to shiver apart in the stronger winds?
Or will it stand fast,
Like a mighty tree,
Spreading great roots below for stability,
A canopy of leaves above for shelter?
I sometimes think it is more like a river,
As it passes from the breakneck rapids of its youth
To the deeper currents and wider expanses
Farther along its way.
Past the boiling and churning
Where the tributary joined it,
Muddying the waters for a while,
But providing welcome company
To share the vistas that unfold downstream.
Content to take its time now,
Wandering at a sedate and leisurely pace
Enjoying the scenery,
Pausing now and again at a port of call,
Only to continue on again
In its own good time.
I can feel you.
Even as I seek the comfort of your presence,
I am comforted in your absence by this connection.
The warmth of your regard
Is all the balm my soul requires.
I feel as if I have been outcast,
Wandering homeless, forsaken,
Never able to relax my guard,
Never able to be who I am,
Always alert to the potential for treachery.
For such a one to have found sanctuary,
A safe haven,
A place of rest and shelter
Where the burdens can be set down
And the wards can be relaxed
At least for a little while,
Is a greater gift than you can know.
The mountains will always be,
Soaring above the plains in their majesty,
Thrumming a deep chord of satisfaction
At the view they preside over.
The bright fields too are there;
Whispering endlessly of the joys of running,
Of challenging the wind for mastery.
They have a rival now,
Another song that comes to me,
Softly urging me to follow,
Filling me with peace and comfort.
I can feel you.
It is not like coming home.
It is home.
I am here.

Classroom Scramble

It seems I lack the timing,
Or inborn knack for rhyming,
Which generates a glitch:

I have to do this poem;
But rhymes? I just don't know 'em!
And there we find the hitch.

In all the preparation
For this new presentation
It seems I lack the skill

Of finding words and rhythm,
And now, verse! To go with 'em,
The work is all uphill.

And so, I sigh and struggle,
And take the time to juggle
A phrase that seems ill-made.

Despite my good intentions,
And clever word inventions,
This won't be my best grade.

I approach the house with trepidation
      Unsure of who I'll find behind my door:
Will it be Madonna? Or my momma?
      Or will it be the woman I adore?

I tiptoe to the porch, and pause to listen
      Like a timid beast, I test the air:
Oh, no! I think I left a wet bath towel!
      I moan; I know what's coming: Linda Blair!

Our life together has assumed this rhythm,
      A gentle waltz for three weeks out of four,
But then, that tricky tango for the fourth week...
      I stumble in her wake across the floor.

Too late for flowers! I muster my best grin,
      Open the door, and say,
In a falsely jovial timbre:
      "Hello, Dear! How was your day??!"

He advances,
Chuckling and swirling
Like the gentle wavelets that
Riffle the sands
He approaches and retreats,
Entreats and then withdraws,
A ceaseless adagio of
Desire and uncertainty.

She resists,
Unwilling to dabble her toes
Drawing away from his passion
Foaming about her feet.
She jitterbugs away
Only to turn again, reluctant
Yet enchanted, the tide shifting,
As she hesitantly prances, falters, stills.

Encouraged, he popcorns.
A delighted purr escapes him as
He pirouettes his pleasure.
Catching her up in rapturous tumult
They tumble together like churning froth,
Timeless tango in the swells.
She surfs against his shoulder
Back to shore
Fondly admiring her partner as he

However you manage
To try and ignore them,
Your children will bug you
Until you abhor them,

They bicker and quibble
Until you go starkers
Then can't understand
When you stomp on the markers
They spent the last hour
Arguing over;
When you lose your temper
They stare in frank wonder.

And will this impair them?
No, not in the slightest.
A new war erupts
Over who was the rightest
And who caused the destruction
Of their FAVORITE red,
You might as well give up
And send them to bed.

Of course, you must realize
That even this ploy
Will not interrupt
A determined small boy
Who WILL insist that
It wasn't HIS fault,
And it isn't fair
That he share the result.

And so they continue
To argue who's right
As they don their pajamas
And kiss you good night.
As you haggardly stumble
To: What? You forgot;
You can hear them both hiss:
"Did too!" "Did not!"

A Foole's Jaunt
I find myself continually surprised
The more I learn, it seems the less I know;
I am more foole than I at first surmised.

I scorned the choices that my friends advised,
And chose the paths where no one else would go.
I find myself continually surprised.

I thought that freedom was best exercised
By never following the common flow.
I am more foole than I at first surmised.

To keep my journeys safely randomized,
I chose my amblings by the dice’s throw,
I find myself continually surprised.

Strange and exotic pathways tantalized,
Alluding mysteries I could not forego.
I am more foole than I at first surmised.

When all is said and done, and pride excised,
Perverseness yields a fresh but lonely show.
I find myself continually surprised,
I am more foole than I at first surmised.

The Starven
shopping list

a humorous re-creation of 'The Raven' with apologies to Mr. Poe...

Once upon a noon-time busy while I wandered, in a tizzy
Looking through a wealth of paper for my misplaced grocery list,
As I scrambled, curtly mumbling, suddenly there came a rumbling
As my stomach started grumbling, grumbling for the meal I'd missed.
"Tis the same each time," I muttered, "never can get out the door.
Maybe it fell on the floor...."

How distinctly I remembered, 'fore the room became dismembered,
How I'd set the grocery list apart from all the other mess,
Carefully had set it centered, on the blotter: I remembered!
Yet the blotter, sitting list-less, mocked me in my fruitless quest,
Doodles and an unpaid bill, a coupon from the video store,
Only this and nothing more.

And I hear a plaintive moaning, coming from my inner core;
Quoth my stomach: "GRAaowwooorrr!"

Time is short now, growing panic, clock is striking, I am frantic
Knowing of my penchant for forgetting what's not written down
I make one last desperate fumble, watch the stack of papers tumble,
Seeing all my efforts crumble as they slither to the ground.
Mesmerized, I watch them fall, my stomach taking up its roar,
And now the clock is striking four......

I can't wait! They close at six! I must go, the list I fixed
Must remain behind, as I have left so many here before.
Once again, instead of getting all my stuff, I'll be forgetting
Some important item, and I'll have to go back to the store.
How I hate to make two trips! I sigh and stumble to the door,
Fatalistic to the core.

Yet again, I hear imploring, begging me to not ignore;
Quoth my stomach: "GRAowwooorrrr!"

Coming home from Shopper's Heaven, now the clock is striking seven,
Lo! Behold! What else should greet me as I set the groceries down,
Of course! The list I could not find is winking at me from behind
The answering machine, and kind of apprehensively I frown,
As I pick it up to see what else I needed from the store,
Yep! I needed three things more!

So I make the list out blearily, and I take the keys up wearily,
Hoping that the missing items won't be needed for tonight
Knowing that the only option for a store with evening shopping
Is the dreaded Wally-World: but I forgot the Laundry Brite,
And all my shirts are dirty, flowing from the hamper to the floor,
So I trudge back out the door.

Giving up on being fed before I come home from the store,
Quoth my stomach: "GRAowwoorrrr!"

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