A Father is…

A father is a cushion to lay my head,

when things seem dark and dreary;

A father carries me up to bed,

when I’ve grown very weary.

 

A father reads me a bedtime story,

and hugs me when I’m scared;

a father is one who is by my side,

and who always seems to care.

 

He is there to close my window,

and to sing an old Irish tune;

he is there to let me know,

that I am his stars and moon.

 

 

A father lives, a father gives,

me all the love he possibly can;

he is silly, he is my joy

he is my favorite man.

 

A father is there to life me up

each time I inevitably fall;

A father rushes into the room,

each time his name I call.

 

A father is the one I love,

a father is my best friend;

he will always be in my heart,

on that he can depend.

 

So thank you sweet darling Dad,

for all you’ve done for me;

my love for you is greater than,

all the stars in the sky you see.

 

Poetologie ❤

 

 

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Nothing’s Gonna Change Our World…Unless We Do

‘I read the news today…oh boy’ – Manchester looks like its been at war.  ‘A crowd of people stood and stared,’ they’d seen terrorism before. Beatles lyrics are currently racing around my head, music is my comfort today.

Twenty-two people killed, including children as young as eight years old. More than fifty injured. The distressing news just keeps coming. It’s getting so hard to hide my sadness and tears from my children.

How do I protect them from the news? How do I protect them from this increasingly dangerous world?

Images of the Newtown tragedy flash through my brain, as I see a mother cry for her missing daughter. People/children were once again going about their day. People/children were once again murdered.

With no warning. With no reason. With no emotion.

They are now gone. Their families are still trying to find them or find out if they are among the victims. Their families all have our sympathy, our thoughts, and our hearts. We hug our own children safe in the knowledge that they are okay today.

But what about tomorrow?

What new tragedies await all of us?

Today a bridge of pain connects us to Manchester, just like many bridges before. This pain seems unending in recent years. This pain is heartbreaking.

I wish it would stop.

I tell my anxious daughter a few details of the bombing, because I know that she will find out about it at school. I want her to hear my words first. I want her to see my face when I say this is a horrible tragedy, but this is far away, it will not directly affect you.

I never spoke to her about how I was in New York City on 9/11. How I walked for miles among traumatized ashen people. I never told her that her Aunt lost her best friend in the bombing of Pan Am 103, and worked in Tower One of the World Trade Center. I never told her how close to home tragedy has struck. But I have said those words of comfort to her before, about Newtown and a few other tragedies, because I needed to calm her fears.

My words which usually speak passionate truths were carefully edited, carefully cooled down to help her deal with the news. To help her deal with the fact that the safe little world in which she currently exists is shrinking. With each bomb blast, shooting or death from cold hands she will be unwound. Her idea of safety is slowly being liquidated to pay off the debt of her survival. Her artistic brush is forced to paint a picture of a world in frequent mourning, over mornings such as these.

When I was younger I frequently watched the news with my mom. I am not able to do this with my daughter, for it is too often filled with tragic headlines and scary events.

So instead I shield her from as much devastation as I can, surround her with love and comfortable things, and pray she will gain the strength to get through such difficult times.

I let her see me write blogs and poetry often, I tell her that getting out our emotions in a positive way is a blessing and a necessity. She hears the tap tap of the keyboard and the click click of the mouse as I pour out my feelings. I hope she always remembers these sounds. The sounds of subsistence, the sounds that help me get through my toughest times.

I am glad that she has her art to ease her mind. I hope that it always does. I hope that the stroke of her paintbrush can help her survive, thrive and put some color into this often gloomy world.

I often tell her that we should always help others when we are able to. That so many people need assistance, and that there is nothing wrong with asking for it. I tell her that it’s okay to pause her world in order to help someone in need.

After tragedies I feel helpless, sorrowful and weak. I wonder what kind of world we are leaving our children. But watching the kindness of strangers, bystanders and everyday heroes always lifts me up. These people make it possible to see the light in the darkness, the way through the pain.

I want to be one of these people. I am trying to teach my children to be like these people. The light-bringers, the change-makers, the bastions of hope. People who see others as equals and worthy of compassion. People who feel it is our duty as citizens to help lift others up, because they know we will all fall down at some point in our lives.

Manchester needs us now. The world needs us now. We must take a long look in the mirror of truth, and put an end to our apathy. I have been looking in this mirror for years, I am ready to make a difference. I realize that it all starts with me.

And as the tears flow from the sights and sounds of a city that’s an hours train ride from Liverpool, I know that nothing’s gonna change our world – unless we do.

Kathy ❤

Poetologie

 

I Am No One. I Am Someone. My Story of Domestic Violence

Many years ago an ex-boyfriend drove me deep into the woods of a small Connecticut town. It was a beautiful sunny day, and there was a very scenic view. I was enjoying the ride until he said to me “if you ever lie to me or cheat on me, I will bury your body in these woods.”

He then added “and no one will ever find you.”

He spoke these words so clearly and matter-of-factly, as if he had been planning this for months. He was totally serious and made sure I knew it. It was at the point that I knew I would never get out of this relationship alive.

I was dating a man similar to my violent abusive father, the cycle continued. Just like Julia Roberts’ character in “Sleeping With the Enemy,” I had to make a plan and gather the strength and courage to leave him.

We had been dating for a year at the time, and there were many signs of abuse such as yelling at me constantly, pushing, punching, grabbing me so hard that my arms were black and blue, throwing objects at me, threatening me and putting me down often. I slowly recognized these signs of abuse, but was stuck, torn apart, and felt like I had nowhere else to go at the time. Plus, I really felt like I could change him by smothering him with love and kindness. But that never works, people only change if they want to and receive the necessary help that they desperately need.

At the time I was no one. I was just a carpet for others to walk all over. I had no confidence, I had no inner strength, I had no soul. I was just walking down an endless deep dark path, and I never felt so alone.

Due to an abusive childhood, I thought that it was normal to be treated the way my ex treated me for awhile. I thought I deserved it. And like many abuse victims, I thought I could change my boyfriend into a loving man. I believed him each time he said he’d never hit me again, though the look of satisfaction on his face said otherwise.

I would look at other couples who were in love, and wish I was in love with someone kind. Instead I was dating a monster. This monster was very good looking and charming. He fooled many people. He made a fool out of me on many occasions. Nothing I ever did was good enough, nothing I did was ever right. I was constantly walking on eggshells, trying to please him so that I could have some peace.

But, I was fooling myself, for there is never any peace in an abusive relationship, and there never will be. According to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence – “on average, nearly 20 people per minute are physically abused by an intimate partner in the United States. During one year, this equates to more than 10 million women and men.”

I started secretly seeing a psychologist on my lunch breaks in Manhattan. The walks to these appointments were terrifying, but after each one I felt a bit of a release. I was finally able to tell someone, I finally showed my bruises to someone. The look on my psychologists face said it all, and she slowly helped me gain the courage to leave. All of the shame and fear I had been feeling came pouring out, like an endless ball of pain. It was finally unraveling, I could finally breathe again and dream that happiness would someday be within my reach.

Soon after, I left my boyfriend after a heated fight. I ran into some policemen on the walk to my mom’s house, and they escorted me the rest of the way. I did not tell them what had happened.

I had run out of the house, fearing for my life, and left with only the shirt on my back. I had no other possessions, but I had my life and I had my dignity. My family took care of me until I healed, and figured out what to do. I finally told them and my friends what I had been enduring. My ex tried to keep me away from these friends, but once I told them they said to run and never look back.

I was weak and did look back a few times and called my ex out of loneliness and desperation. We even got back together for a few weeks. But the same cycle of violence occurred and we broke up for good soon after. I was lucky that he convinced himself that it was not worth it, and I never saw him again.

I continued counseling for a few years which helped me to figure out a plan. My plan was to be alone for a long time until I learned to really like myself for the first time in my life. I learned to embrace the quiet and treasure my solitude. My hobbies of writing poetry, rollerblading, kayaking, and photography helped save my life. These hobbies filled my time and were my constant companions.

They would never hurt me. They would only enrich my life and help me grow.

These hobbies built up my body and my spirit, and they allowed me to move forward.

Please be aware of all of the signs of verbal and physical abuse. Teach them to your children. Let them know that they cannot treat people this way, and that they should never allow anyone to treat them this way. It is not acceptable to abuse others.

It is true that love and relationships can be hard work. They can have many ups and downs. They require lots of patience and lots of respect. They should, however, be mostly filled with love and happy memories. It should not feel like hard work all the time. You should not change who you are to be with someone.

You should never accept anyone hitting you.

If they do, quietly walk away. Ask others for the support you need and deserve.

You are not a punching bag.

And whether the abuse is physical or verbal, you do not have to stay.

Make a plan, and leave right away or as soon as you can.

It is much better to be alone and alive, than it is to be abused.

Someday, when you are removed from your horrible situation, you will learn from it. You will learn to like yourself again. You will grow and blossom into the amazing human being that you are. You will live again. You will find happiness. Many have walked in these same footsteps. I was one of them. Let us lead the way. You are not alone.

Just keep saying these words over and over until you believe them. Then go ahead and take your life back and learn to live it!

I am someone. I am good. I am compassionate. I am special. I have great worth, and no one can take that away from me. I will unravel this ball of pain that consumes me. I will transform it into a great ball of light. This light will brighten my world. It will lead the way to better things. It will help me move on and be happy. It will help me love again, and share that love with the world. Life is a circle, not a cycle. My cycle of abuse is over. I will not let it overtake me again. I am finally free….

Kathy ❤

Poetologie

If you ever need help you can use the following resources:

  • If you are in immediate danger, call 9-1-1.
  • For anonymous, confidential help, 24/7, please call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-7233 (SAFE) or  1-800-787-3224
  • http://www.ncadv.org/

 

 

A Letter to My Children on Mother’s Day

I will always treasure every moment
I spent with you dear child
you are my baby and will always be
through many moonlight miles

I hope your days are always filled
with more happiness than you can accrue
and when I am no longer here
the moonbeams will send my love to you

Dear Children,

While you were in my belly I thought a lot about being a perfect mother. I dreamed of you under a starry sky and a bright full moon. I felt like I had been waiting my whole life for you, and I wanted to make sure you were happy. I pictured being Martha Stewart in the kitchen, having a house worthy of Better Homes & Garden magazine, and endless days of laughter, fireflies and fun.

When you arrived I knew the true meaning of love, and wanted to fulfill these goals more than anything.

What I didn’t know then was that I would not accomplish many of these objectives due to Chronic Illness, Lyme Disease and Anxiety. These dreams slowly drifted away as the pain increased, my brain got more foggy, and my strength diminished.

Though I knew that there was no such thing as a perfect mother, I wanted to be as close to perfection as possible. I set the bar very high, and I could never come close to that goal.

You are my little moonbeams, and I prayed to the moon for your forgiveness.

I read you books when I could, played games when I could, and took you to the park when I was able. I walked many moonlight miles with you, I would walk anywhere with you. I cooked you nice meals, and baked awesome allergy friendly treats as often as possible. I watched the sprinkles fall from your fingers, just like I watched the rapid passage of time.

I thought that despite my health issues, life sure is very sweet.

I would destroy the bar I set, and set a new one. This one would focus more on love than longevity, and more on feelings than frequency.

I would learn to enjoy whatever time we had together, and make memories that would last us a lifetime.

I knew that no matter what, I had already accomplished my greatest goal, bringing two incredible children into the world.

You are incredible.

Never forget that.

You show compassion when others are in pain, you hold your little umbrellas up to me to shelter me from the rain. You sit at the buddy bench with those who need a friend, you live your lives with joy and kindness that certainly does transcend. You help plant our garden with seeds of hope, you help me get by, you help me cope. You are as peaceful as little doves, have taught me the meaning of unconditional love. You are more special to me than words can say, and I will love you til’ my dying day.

I am so blessed to have you in my life.

I am sorry for my shortcomings, or for anything you have missed due to my illnesses and anxiety.

But I am not sorry that you failed to miss what the meaning of life is.

Being kind and true to yourself. Being able to put others in need before yourself from time to time. Spending as much time as possible with those you love. Never taking them for granted, never forgetting to tell them how much you care.  Love yourself, others and the environment. Never stop growing your mind, your heart, your soul.

I am so proud of you.

I am so happy that I get to spend Mother’s Day with you.

There is no one else I’d rather be with. There is no one else like you.

Thank you for all of the joy you have given me, and continue to bring to my life. I hope all that joy comes back to you two-fold.

I hope you will always remember what I have taught you.

Always live your life to the fullest.

Always remember how much I love you.

Always remember that that light that shines within you is greater than the light of any moon.

 

 

IMG_2409

 

 

 

To the Woman who Has Just Been Diagnosed with Chronic Lyme Disease

I was you once. Two and a half long years ago. I am a mere shadow of myself now, but there is still life and light within that is starting to shine once again.

When you finally receive the diagnosis of Lyme Disease, it may feel like a huge burden has been lifted from your shoulders. You’ve been in pain and struggling for so long with no answers. Now that you have one, you may think life will get easier, and it may for awhile now that your condition has a name. You feel vindicated. You can now tell people you have Lyme, and are not in fact going crazy.

But slowly the sad reality sinks in. You are not getting better despite the diagnosis. You are not being cured despite the medicine you are given. You are walking on quicksand, and feel like no one is ever going to be able to pull you out.

Days go by, and you struggle to find the reason why you are not getting better. You decide to become an expert on Lyme Disease, but your brain fog and memory loss makes that task almost impossible.

So you take what you are given, try to eat better and look for the light at the end of the tunnel. But, all you can see is darkness.

The spirochetes are invading your body like an alien being on an old episode of Star Trek. If only Scotty could beam you up and out of this place, if only Dr. McCoy could find all the answers.

But, there are no concrete answers, there is no cure. Welcome to the Lyme Zone. A dimension where bright sights and loud sounds can drive you insane. Where finding a doctor who can actually reduce your suffering is like finding a needle in a haystack.

Your family and friends become distant as you are always sick and unable to participate in life’s pleasures. Your relationship with your spouse and kids becomes strained. They miss the old you, you wonder if she will ever come back.

I know what you are going through. I am so sorry for all of your pain. I wish I could take it all away.

I am here to tell you though that it is a long, horrible road, you will feel better. You may not be cured, but you will feel better. Try to find a good doctor or LLMD, and do what they suggest. Keep track of how you are feeling and when something makes you feel even the slightest bit better, let them know, it may set you on the right track. Don’t be afraid to try new medicines/treatments, but listen to what your body is telling you.

You will have a million ups and downs, but NEVER give up. Take each tiny victory as a sign that you are on the right path. Though it is long and hard it is totally worth it.

As hard as it is to concentrate and enjoy things, find something that you can tolerate to pass the time. Take up quilting, learn to play an instrument, volunteer, learn a new computer program, play solitaire, start journaling or blogging. I have always written poetry, and now have some Facebook pages, and blogs to pass the time and release my emotions.

Do what makes you happy when you can, and look forward to the next time you are able to do it. Have something to look forward to, even if it is only once a week. Get out of bed and make yourself look fabulous, whenever you have the energy to.

Watch and follow positive stories and role models. People who provide the light and perform good deeds can help us find the good in life once again. They can help us get through the years of torment that Lyme Disease puts us through. They can help lead the way to a brighter day.

I promise you it will come.

Think it. Believe it. Feel it within every inch of your soul.

And it will happen.

You are my hero.

You will get through this.

You are worth it.

I believe in you, so please start believing in yourself.

I’m on your side.

I’m right here fighting beside you.

You are not alone.

You can do this.

Now let’s get started.

Let’s kick some Lyme ass!

 

Kathy ❤

Poetologie

Nuts About My Son

 

quicksand meme

 

 

A Letter to All Those Who Have Ever Been Kind to Me

The passing of David Bowie to cancer, my friend’s young husband to ALS/Lyme, and my father in law to pancreatic cancer, have really been weighing heavily on me. I am 46 years old now, battling Lyme Disease and 5 other chronic conditions, and I feel like it’s the end of an era.

I am no longer in my twenties or thirties, and life is passing by very quickly. It seems the older I get, the faster the time flies.

I constantly read about the untimely death of so many, due to illness, violence, or accidents.

We never know when our time will come.

We shouldn’t spend our days contemplating this, however, we should spend our days being thankful and giving thanks. Planning for the future, but living in the moment. Enjoying and spending time with our loved ones. Helping others.

In case I have fewer moments left than expected, I wanted to write this letter. Please feel free to share it if you like it, or if you can relate to it.

To All Those Who Have Ever Been Kind to Me:

I have lived many years. I have seen many things. But, what I remember the most are the encounters with those who have been kind to me.

Some were friends, some were family, many were complete strangers.

You gave me a sweet smile, a pat on the back, you opened many doors for me.

You helped me grow, you helped me relocate, you helped me move on.

When I was down, you helped pick me up. When I was happy, you shared my joy.

You served me many meals, you sold me many items that I needed to survive, you drove me where I needed to go.

You helped me when I dropped my groceries, you helped me when I dropped the ball, you carried my luggage to the airport.

You provided my medicine, you provided me with shelter on a cold night, you provided me with companionship.

You taught me literature, you taught me how to sew, you taught me how to live.

You paid the bill when I was low on cash, you held my hand through the hardest times, you never let go.

You walk by me everyday, you see me at family gatherings, you are a pleasant memory.

I am thankful for every single one of you who were kind to me, and who showed me how to be kind. I am glad that I met you.

I am forever grateful, and I will never forget you in this life or the next.

I will take you with me wherever I go.

For you are in my heart, my soul and my mind.

I hope that you have a blessed life. I hope that you live a life filled with love and happiness.

For you brought happiness into my life, you deserve my eternal gratitude and the best that life has to offer.

You are my poetry.

Thank you for showing me how beautiful life is, and for providing me with the subject for all of my poems.

 

Love Kathy

Poetologie ❤

 

 

 

 

Countrysongnia and the New Year (from Dec. 2014)

guitar song meme

I have been experiencing some trouble sleeping the past few weeks. A few days ago I experienced a certain type, in which I inexplicably am able to write country songs while suffering from insomnia.

This has happened to me once before and I wrote a song called “Memory Lane.”

The funny thing about this is that I grew up in NYC and have no ties to the country. I have mostly listened to Classic Rock my whole life & rarely listen to country music, though I do like it.

I am more much more hippie than country. Maybe moving to VA is having a tiny effect on me?

I am not excited about getting insomnia again, but I am excited about my weird, unexpected new hidden talent.

I will enjoy it, and I will enjoy expressing my emotions in a new way.

I hope all of you enjoy the year’s end & the upcoming year. I hope you discover great hidden talents, and wonderful treasures.

But, I hope most of all, that you find lots of love, happiness, health & peace in 2015.

Here is my new “countrysongnia” song entitled “The Guitar”

The Guitar

I walked along the streets of the Village
cold, hungry, and feeling alone
I spent my last dollar on you
I wanted to become a rolling stone

I bought my precious guitar
some extra strings and some picks
I carried you on my back
hoping my life you’d manage to fix

you were the first step toward freedom
and mending what life had torn apart
you gave me strength and love
and helped heal a broken heart

………………………………………………

Refrain:

thank you for being a symbol of
what it means to be free
I don’t know what I’d do
without my guitar, kayak and poetry
…………………………………………

I spent many years carrying you,
while I travelled around,
tried many jobs and men,
til’ I put my feet back on the ground

and though I never learned
to play your acoustic strings
I’m grateful I have you
and the message that you bring

Repeat Refrain

I have written many poems
and kayaked many waters
and one day I’ll pass you down
to my dear, loving daughter

and I will tell her this tale
of broken hearts and broken strings
and of how she must believe in herself
and how kindness trumps fancy things

Repeat Refrain

But for now I see
that you are gathering some dust
I will try to live once more
and not be in such a rush

I will learn to play my guitar
as life doles out the chords
I will love and live life well
and at the end hear the applause….

Kathy ❤

Poetologie

Nuts About My Son

Twenty Six Seeds of Love for Newtown

© KS 2014

The Song Without a Name

guitar-girl-grass-Favim.com-462659

I must have lived a past life as a country songwriter.

This is the 3rd country song I’ve written.

It is so funny, because I’m mostly a classic rock fan & part-time poet, but these songs keep coming to me out of nowhere & I can totally picture the song & tune.

I believe this one came to me because of all the Tim McGraw pics I’m seeing from the Concert for Sandy Hook Promise, and the love I’m feeling through them………….♥♥♥

The Song Without a Name

I can’t be a writer,
until I do a little living;
I can’t be a saint,
until I’ve done a little sinning.

I can’t be a giver,
until I’ve felt what it’s like to need;
I can’t be generous,
until I learn to control my greed.

I can’t help those who suffer,
until I see we are all the same;
I can’t learn to love you,
until I learn to be humane.

I can’t truly be happy,
until I learn to love myself;
I can’t spread this happiness,
until I love someone else.

I can’t get stronger,
until I continue to walk my path;
I can’t learn to really live,
until I learn that it won’t last.

I can’t accept my fate,
until I care about yours;
I can’t be part of humanity,
until I stop shutting the door.

I can’t be part of the world,
until I care about who’s in it;
I can’t learn to love war,
because no one really wins it.

I can’t try to change my world,
until I try to change myself;
I can’t live in harmony,
until I stop blaming someone else.

I can’t truly end this song,
until I say to you;
just do your best, and love each other,
and in the end we’ll all pull through.

I can’t really find a title,
so this is the song without a name;
I can’t be ready to leave this Earth,
until I leave it better than when I came….

Kathy
Poetologie
Nuts About My Son
Twenty Six Seeds of Love for Newtown

copyright 2015

The Voice in the Breeze

newtown rams pasture 2 geese green

You walked through a nightmare,
you have troubled sleep;
you tread very slowly,
and have many secrets to keep.

But you keep on walking,
each step is so brave;
you’ve cried so much, that your pillowcase,
is now torn and frayed.

Each tear is a memory,
each tear falls with hope;
that you will overcome this,
that you will learn how to cope.

With a pain and understanding,
that you shouldn’t have to bear;
but please hear my voice,
and know that I care.

I am the good in the world,
I am the voice in the breeze;
I will follow you, and love you,
and answer your pleas.

If you listen very closely,
you will see this is true;
that kindness surrounds you,
and helps you pull through.

You will learn to hear it,
this voice in the breeze;
you will follow it, and eventually,
answer another’s plea.

But, you will still feel the darkness,
try to draw you in close;
so reach out to others,
and the ones you love most.

For life is a journey,
of a hundred million steps;
some are easy, some take courage,
but just try to do your best.

And realize how special,
and how beautiful you are;
you can do anything,
and you will travel far.

And, as the miles,
start to cover what once was;
you will look back,
and remember all the love.

For love does not fade,
just like the voice in the breeze;
believe in yourself,
and you will learn to be free.

Now try to rest your head,
and please listen to me;
I promise you will be okay,
Love the voice in the breeze….

This poem is written for/dedicated to all of the children of Sandy Hook, CT.  It can also apply to many others facing trauma or adversity.

Kathy ❤

Poetologie

Hate Showed Up Late – The Charleston Unity Walk

Charleston unity walk sc bridge hate won't win post and courier

I have been very sad since the events that occurred in Charleston, SC.

Sad for the victims and their families, sad for the Charleston community, and sad for our nation.

I’ve been wondering what kind of person could do such a thing.

What kind of world are my children growing up in?

I haven’t been watching the news much since, or reading my news feeds, I couldn’t handle all the pain and sadness.

But something told me to take a look last night.

And, boy I’m glad I did.

I felt hopeful and uplifted for the first time since the tragedy. Glorious images of the Unity Walk across the Ravenel Bridge, which spans from Mt. Pleasant (where I used to live,) to downtown Charleston, were everywhere.

Images of people unified in hope, peace and love.

People who came together to pay respects to the victims with a 9 minute moment of silence, and to join hands in peace.

These people will not be defeated.

These people will rise above the hate.

We should all follow these people toward a brighter future for all Americans.

And let love change the current.

And let hate show up late.

Hate Showed Up Late Meme

Kathy ❤

Poetologie