Phantom pains

An extract of italy,
with veins of grapevines,
that pour life into my thoughts.
A scene from ireland,
the paintbrush that licks the page
and pours greenery into my eyes.
I have never touched their soil,
Have never felt their sunshine,
or rain.
so how do i know?
I can feel them across the pond,
across the Mediterranean;
Simply because i want it so bad.
Their grapes are meant for my tongue,
their hills are built under my feet.
I can feel it.

The Importance of a Nest

I haven't been able to sleep lately. Just shutting my eyes for any period of time was beyond me with everything going on in my head. I would just bolt up and decide that I should make a list, just to get all my worries down on paper where I could handle them tomorrow. Even after I threw my thoughts up in ink, I would wake up at the oddest hours and panic that my alarm had gone off for work. Tea seemed to be in order.
Sleepytime tea should really do the trick as well as calm my allergies that were scratching the back of my throat. So I got into bed,  read a little bit of Daughter of the Forest by Juliet Marillier (my favorite author, whose books I have read countless times), and started dozing off to some music. Then out of nowhere, I realized that I only had about two more weeks of this.
For you to understand, I must tell you how I feel about my room. For starters, my bed is awesome. It is so big and comfortable, with a hole I created by sleeping in the exact same spot every night: about a foot wide of space right near the edge on the far side away from the wall. Did I mention it was a queen size bed? I don't use about 3/4 of it. I think just knowing that I can have all that space is what's really nice about it. Even if I wanted to move to the other side near the wall I would not be able to. I have tried and I just end up rolling downhill into my nest.
I would be leaving my nest, my big beautiful room with the 4 big windows. My experience of campus life told me that I was not going to have the quiet either. At home I go to sleep to nothing but the sounds of the woods and my dogs barking. There is very little human noise polluting my dreaming air. Except for the Ghost Train that comes by around 5 every morning. We don't have any trains within hearing distance from our house; not that we can see anyway. This one chugs along the back of our property somewhere and as far as I know, I am the only one that hears it.
I turn off my music. I can listen to those songs anywhere, but I will not be able to hear this again any time soon. I slept well last night.

Thought for the day: What do you need to hear as you go to bed?
Thought for campus students: This kid gets angry without sleep!!

Helmet Spaceship

Have you ever had a motorcycle helmet on your head? It is like having a living room on your face. One minute you are looking out into the world - presumably at the road - and the next you could be a little person looking out a huge spaceship window. It is the strangest perspective I think I have ever tried.
Thankfully, I was sitting on the back of the bike and wasn't driving (note to viewers: I cannot drive a motorcycle, it is my mother's). My eyes peered over the controls to the screen. I am watching life fly by me on the big screen. It feels right, it feels like I am literally in my mind, looking out.

Thought for the day: Find a motorcycle helmet - even if you have to go to the store and be the weirdest looking shoppers there :) try it on and you'll see what I'm talking about!

Paper Airplane

Flitting about the room

Trying to find an escape,

Perhaps at the window with its invisible bars

Whirling in deceptive twists and turns

Repeatedly flapping its wings against the glass

But the scrawling script that spots its tail

Adds weight and drags it to the floor.

If you lose your paper airplane,

People might see the thoughts

That you wanted so much to fly away;

The only part of you that could.

 So it must be kept locked in the room

With painted clouds and a cold, dark sun.

It’s fancy display is

The choreography of your thoughts

Not simply paper and ink.

You did not choose a tree trunk

Because you know that these thoughts

Are not forever.

You did not choose the bathroom wall

Because your pen most certainly

Would run into another’s hands.

No. you chose to write a chain of letters,

Forming thoughts

On a folded piece of paper

That is a fleeting bit of

your soul on a biplane.

If you had told me,

What you wrote,

I would have typed it down here,

For the world to see.

Copyright  "darlyarabian" and affiliates

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Don't Even Ask...

Driving down the road through heavy traffic is a fairly new concept to me. I used to get up at least 2 hours after everyone was already at work. Naturally, I guess I am a late riser; late to bed, late to rise. I mean, what is there to get up for? What kid really wants a job when she can just hang out at home watching tv all day? That is probably what I would be doing right now if I did not actually have to go.
Some parents cannot wait for their child to get a job and are the reason most kids have to go to work. I don't think my mother even mentioned it...But without having a job early on, I wouldn't be able to care for my children.  Do you know when this all started? I think I might. I was about 6 years old and living in the suburbs. We had about 100 feet of backyard and we had recently given away our collie dog who did not quite understand that he couldn't have the whole town to romp around in. He went to live on a farm. I wanted another dog and I guess I mentioned a horse too. I thought that when we moved it was because I wanted a horse and we didn't have enough room. Silly me. But when you put such occurrences so close together, how was my little mind supposed to understand that I was not the cause for moving?
Well, that was the start  I guess. I didn't like my first horse, which I think would come as a surprise to anybody. Every girl wants a horse, just be happy you have one, right? I was 12 and she was...well, too friendly. Thinking back now, I bet she was pretty good, we just didn't hit it off. I didn't want to get up at 7:30am for her. People thought I was lazy and that horses were a phase. I'm telling you now, I just didn't like her.
Then came Jazz and Memory Lane in the same year. I was in love with the orange chestnut mare who wouldn't look at anyone unless they carried food. So I carried a LOT of it. They had been neglected and were underweight. They became my life. Every fiber of my being was dedicated to making them better. I was out there with them everyday; brushing, sitting, feeding, riding them. I got up every school day at 5:30am for them. Memory Lane lived to be 36 years old and I like to think of her as a grandmother figure to me. Jazz I gave away only recently. I miss you baby.
I look back and I even wonder at how amazing clicking with a horse is. Everyone else is just left out when you look at them. Onlookers cannot see it. I know this because of how many people who told me to sell them. Not my Jazzy baby. Anyone who could feel it would never tell me that. Tears stream down my cheeks even thinking it. There is nothing I would rather be doing then just sitting out in the pasture with them grazing around me, dogs lying next to me, cat in my lap.
So folks, you can ask me anything. You can ask me about my future, you can reprimand me about it, but I have no future without my horse, without my dogs, without my cat. They have kept me alive as I have kept them alive. So don't even ask.

Thought for the day: DON'T EVEN ASK. think about what you would be without an animal in your life, and when you're done sobbing hysterically, and becoming outrageously depressed, you can talk to me about it.