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| Topic: tell the stories | |
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but for the stories of women....
we keep the memories and the records we sing our mother's songs to our granchildren we wail our sorrows in ancient harmonies we sob,and weep with anguish when we lose a child all of us, no matter where, even if we believe his spirit flies home we are shattered, our human heart is broken my heart is not my heart!! i gave it away to a little girl that finally ate the food from my hand, grabbed my finger and lived and the hundreds of women that prepared food with me in the camps as their villages burned and the smoke was still in our eyes weeping with onions and the dust of our loved ones in our mouths our tears salted the aubergine roasting to the courage and tenacity of my people my people that live in every face i treat every hand i take in mine to every need i was able to meet i gave my heart and felt the pulse fusion who's heart do i feel? if my heart is your heart then i will feel you you are mine as breath as it disolves i shatter again when your children run into my arms when we cover their faces when i am called away when i long to be near i will never forget why we find each other here to know the depth and power of love like this then shatter me again and spill my blood with yours that we will be mothers against violence and tell our stories and write our herstory and feed our children life rather than greed kindness rather than cruelty respect rather than discrimination forgiveness rather than revenge inspiration rather than dogma knowledge rather than marketed propaganda social consciousness rather than racism human rights rather than capitalism& politics [as we know them] the joy of generosity when our smiles greet eyes remember i am yours 
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Very Nice!
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thanks guys
abra...i have been reading you for years your compliment is greatly appreciated |
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and the force of spring rendering the ground
THROWS all the crumbled earth to the wind and we stand trrrrrrembling and fresh but older than all the juju that was ever spoken!!!!! i lingered in the world, seduced by the beauty by the annunciation of wonderful events, i go thru life with idealistic and fated eyes carrying within me the music of a lovely and tragic mythology. my mouth utters an obscure prophesy my mind invaded by the future i am a strange one with half of me always in the spirit world i cross bridges and touch tears i enter secret longings and sooth an unsettled sleep i hear you breathing everywhere and i am there warming your feet, in the steam of your coffee the sweat on your brow the dirt in your fingernails the blood on your skirt how many times will i go thru this gateway? i chose again to stay to come home to the smell of your scent on my pillow i want to taste this world to feel it to know it to suffer it to love it to make a valuable contribution to it to have that sublime mood of eternity in me as i live the life that comes but i sometimes think it was your face that made me want to stay..... i wanted to make happy the bruised spirit of the women that would become my dearest friends oya |
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A very wide canvas of imagery and emotions catapulted by your words.Keep writing.
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these words are like tears
i cannot shed because they would insult the dignity of the life we are so fortunate to have... but i am broken and the human weeps while the spirit flies what a contradiction to wear ! i feel like a world class tennis match is going on inside and my soul is the court that is being played... i wonder if this tournament is fair lol |
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You are humanity meeting humanity. God bless you
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troubled?
then stay with me for i am not lonely? a thousand naked beauties, wanting dwell in the ancient caves beneath my eyelids... riches? here's a pick my wholebody is an emerald that begs ... "take me" write all that worries you on a piece of paper offer it to the flames even from the distance of a millennium i can lean the flame of my heart into your life and turn all that frightens you into holy insense ash |
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I'm enjoying this.
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your fragrance was carried on the winds and the roses blushed and wilted i felt you hand outstretched the soft and firm grasp that held me stable as i walked your touch calms my grief and allows me to sit and breathe it is SO much easier to let go than to hold on
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A woman with life's experience, a woman in love or philosopher in the making ? I think all of the above
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thanks guys abra...i have been reading you for years your compliment is greatly appreciated I didn't know who you were when I first read this, but my first thought was,... "This woman is just like Alex!" I thought she was too much like you to be a coincidence cuz you are truly unique. But then I thought,... hmmm?,... This world's a pretty crazy place, so maybe there are other Alexes out there,... But nope,... It's you!
Actually, in a way, I was kind of hoping there were more of you around. 
We could use a world filled with you!
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Welcome!
Good write!!! |
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This is very Anne Sexton'ish! I like it! Good writes oya9!
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Ver nice...welcome
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uh o
quickly googles ann sexton...sheesh 
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ok .... wow
she was rather prolific , and i quickly accessed a small collection of her prose....( thanks for the gift )
i could feel a relationship more with her rhythm and cadence , than her topic, but i only read 3 i just ramble... "as much as a pen knows what it is writing or a ball can guess where it is going next??" rumi |
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Very Nice!
cockroaches...heh heh
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This is very Anne Sexton'ish! I like it! Good writes oya9! I too had to Google Anne Sexton,… I don’t really see a resemblance in the cerebral content of her writings. Possibly there may be some resemblance in the lyrical writing style, and possibly a similar stance on some issues,... But when it comes down to the actual thoughts behind the words I think there’s a major difference. Anne Sexton appears to be writing from the inside out. Like she locked inside her body and trying to get out (which she eventually did by committing suicide). I think her poems reflect her internal war. Alex (Oya9) is just the opposite. She’s writing from the outside in. Alex has given so much of herself. She has given herself over to humanity to the extreme (I guess you’d have to know her to fully understand this). Alex is outside of herself. She’s knocking on her body to let her back in. She’s locked herself out and can’t get back in. She’s gone overboard with her selflessness and seriously needs someone to toss her a life preserver but no one knows how because they are all locked up deep within the hull of their own existence. Someone needs to open the door of her tortured soul and invite her to come back into herself. Until then she’ll forever be knocking from the outside in. She’s given herself away completely to the point where she’s lost the key to her own existence. And now I’ve given away the key to unlocking all her poetry.,… Just read what she’s saying,… “my heart is not my heart!! i gave it away” “to the courage and tenacity of my people my people that live in every face i treat” “who's heart do i feel? if my heart is your heart then i will feel you” “then shatter me again and spill my blood with yours” “when our smiles greet eyes remember i am yours” Alex is a doctor. She’s given herself away to humanity. She’s kept nothing for herself. She’s lost in the torrent ocean of human suffering and pain,… and recovery and joy! (just thought I’d share this for those of you who do not know her) |
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