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

like a river

My words. They are pouring out of me right now. Pouring forth at all hours of the day and night. I need to channel them, like water flowing between the banks of a river, but mostly, I just have to write them.

January 3, 2014
Excerpt from an email I sent earlier this morning. Here is the email time stamp, stating date and time, “On Fri, Jan 3, 2014 at 10:07 AM.”

Time to play, “The Matching Game.” It was my husband who collected Hallmark ornaments. First Star Trek and then later, when they were released, Star Wars. He always said they were worth more if we kept the boxes too. Unpacking boxes and unwrapping from bubble wrap to hang them on the tree. Then, less than a month later, pairing up the ornament with the picture on the box and wrapping them up in plastic bubble protection once more. Love. His for space movies and their universe of collectibles. Mine for him. Our sons share his love of SciFi. I’m boxing them up carefully because someday this collection will be divided between my boys and hang in their respective homes. When that day comes there will be room on my tree for different ornaments. You know, all the non-SciFi ones.

January 1, 2014
2:35pm
I’m still procrastinating by writing, but at least I started AND I’m standing up!

I’m sitting on the living room love seat, dressed half in pajamas, and half in clothes (jeans pulled on top of the long underwear pants I slept in).
Blue dog is wedged against my hip on the left, in his favorite living room love seat spot.
I’ve been playing on my phone.
Writing.
Tweeting.
Just picked A RAINBOW RIBBON up off the ground!
I kid you not!
I even thought of, “Over the Rainbow,” and sung a few bars, as Blue and I stepped on the sidewalk beside Luna’s fence.
Right after that musical moment we turned a corner and spied this bit o’color.
I took a picture.
I picked up the piece of rainbow ribbon.
A rainbow, in an unlikely place.
Found it looking down, not up.
Evidently today is A Writing Day.

January 1, 2014
(Excerpt from a New Year’s afternoon email reply to my sister. She knows the significance of my mentioning, “Over the Rainbow” too.)

Cheers

Last day of 2013 today.
It all happened.
You saw me through.
Faith, and the prayers of many.
Thankful for unconditional love of family and friends who know me best, better than I know myself.
Joy, Peace and Love are ahead.
In abundance!
Hope is the Light that doesn’t extinguish even in the darkest Dark.
Here’s to making art and writing for real in 2014.
I’m walking toward it, in cowgirl boots!
Happy New Year!
LOVE,
*sparkly heart kind*
Janean

December 31, 2013

Western Wisdom

I’m in the midst of typesettin’ two more of my grandfather’s Western Tales. Yesterday I caught myself readin’ instead of movin’ fast, flowin’ type, applyin’ style sheets, and fixin’ up his wonderful words for bein’ self published and bound into yet another family and friends book. Perhaps his last, as at 97, we know his body is wearin’ out.
Certain phrases and plot twist moments, keep jumping off my computer screen as I work, that make me grin and guffaw. Then there are others that make my heart squeeze in empathy.
The line of dialogue speaking to me right now is after the sheriff received a letter from concerned parents, asking after their hastily married off daughter who was sent away, “in trouble.” Instead of replying that she’d had her baby, and a few days later her worthless, no good varmint, rat of a husband was dead – murdered – Sheriff Wells simply said where they could reach their daughter. His mentor, John Wade, replied after readin’ the communique in progress, “Good shot. Let her tell her own story.”
Indeed. Yes. The other bit of advice I keep readin’ is to keep your head up high, no matter what the circumstances in your life. Lots of horse talk too. How I love that!
I’m completely charmed by my grandfather’s writing. Stories. Songs. Poetry. I have been since childhood. It’s more poignant now. Readin’ with a woman’s heart.
He’s a marvel. Still alive and kickin’, atop a bluff overlookin’ the mighty Mississippi River where he’s lived since he was nine months old, other than those years he was needed to serve his country in WWII. He began writing stories while recovering from night patrol injuries in a hospital in England. The Red Cross gave him paper. He mailed the stories home. All because he’d read everything he could get his hands on, and figured he could do as well or better. Once he started writing, he never stopped. That is a lesson for me, and all the aspiring authors I know. Writers write. A lot.
~ Janean Marie Thompson Baird

April 10, 2013
Quote from, “The Invincible Three” by Erwin A. Thompson.