I can’t make you

turquoisetangle:

I can’t make you

I wish I could

you’re bigger than me

I can’t stop you

you won’t listen

I won’t beg

do what you have to do

the door closes

I cry then

my eyes are dry now

no longer tired

I wonder

when you will come home

knowing that you will

I won’t call

you know the way

when you’re ready

come home

even though

I can’t make you

© 2011 Turquoise Tangles

That feeling when someone suddenly “Tumblr loves” something you wrote a few years ago. You reread it. Sigh deeply and cuss (just in your head). Somehow you nearly forgot. Does anyone else tag real life personal drama as, “creative writing” and hope the outer facade of reality doesn’t crack? No, me either. After tagging that way a few times my husband “called me on it” so I stopped. Stopped writing quite so honestly. Stopped tagging anything “creative writing.” Started talking about the dog, Blue, then just a puppy. A lot. Time flies. Speed varies. I’ve logged nearly 1,000 posts here at Tumblr since joining in November 2011. Poems. Photographs. Stories. Quotes. Reblogs. All tweeted too, if you’re counting. The best, most interesting, jaw dropping, heart aching, twisting, tugging, wrenching, soaring writing from the past several years has all been done behind the scenes. Just in case you’re wondering, this poem, written on a long ago night, was foreshadowing. I’m glad I was brave enough to write it and say it at the time. I still remember the fight. Faded. Fading. Letting go. We were fire and fire, fire and ice, hot and cold. Yet, we ended “just right.” We came through the fire, all pride set aside, and we loved with our walls down for the very first time.

January 6, 2014

I LOVE ART

I enjoyed being a Career Day guest speaker. The fourth graders were great listeners! One class even clapped after I read my poem, “sing your song.” Others ooo’ed and ahh’ed at my artwork as it appeared on the smart board. I have a new skill now too: Smart Board Operator. I’ve already been invited back for next year!

May 10, 2013

two words

My husband wrote a poem with, “damn it” in it.
Reading those two little words made me grin.
For in the midst of his poem about hurt, tumult, brokenness and pain it was after I read the, “damn it”, that I knew we’d be OK.
Love is stronger than all the rest.
Love heals, soothes, mends and forms a safe haven.
Love is our shelter in the midst of the most awful of storms.
Besides all that, I love him too…
damn it.

a quiet house

I hear birdsong from the front yard

and rain sounds from the back

the quiet whir of the ceiling fan above

with a napping dog on the floor

the silver keys are tapping

beneath my flying fingertips

I’m still in pajamas 

even though it’s well past lunch

ah, yes, my favorite kind of day

breathe in

breathe out

just drinking in

the sounds of a quiet house

for the children

are with their Papa

he bought me daisies last night
the colorful kind
minus the crazy
such a surprise to see them
in the flower spot
by the kitchen sink
when the children and I
came home last night
my smile widened
at the vase he chose
for it was the easiest
to reach
my margarita pitcher
a college graduation gift
from my aunt in New Mexico
my margarita days are past
what a lovely vase
I didn’t know I had
until he bought me daisies
last night