Poetry
We Are Not Our Labels
by Lisa A Kramer
I have been thinking a lot lately about language, labels, patriarchy, religion, and where we humans have gone wrong. This is my attempt to make meaning.
Today I Choose
by Lisa A Kramer
Sometimes, when I need to work through things as I find my next steps, I write poetry.
The Art of Failing
by Lisa A Kramer
When you know what it feels like to failferociouslyand have gained thecapacityto rise and rise and rise again. Jeannette Encinias "Beneath the Sweater And the Skin"
What is failure, if not opportunity? I believe that the art of failing frees you to succeed in new ways. Perhaps ways that feed your spirit so that you truly live a life worth living.
We learn from an early age that failure is something bad, somehow. But I don’t believe that. At least not anymore.
How does one define failure anyway? In a world ruled by money, or views success as a limited resource, then failure means that one is not able to grab your piece of the success pie.
Is that how you think...
What is failure, if not opportunity? I believe that the art of failing frees you to succeed in new ways. Perhaps ways that feed your spirit so that you truly live a life worth living.
We learn from an early age that failure is something bad, somehow. But I don’t believe that. At least not anymore.
How does one define failure anyway? In a world ruled by money, or views success as a limited resource, then failure means that one is not able to grab your piece of the success pie.
Is that how you think...
An Open Letter to American Cowards (aka supporters of the NRA)
by Lisa A Kramer
I cannot change your mind with words,
but words are all I have
pouring from
my bleeding heart
like drops of life
from a gunshot wound.
I choose these words with care. In your mind I am that bleeding heart "Libtard" "Feminazi" bitch who should remain silent.
But let me tell you who you are . . .
You are cowards.
You value guns over life, because a BIG gun makes you feel powerful, or perhaps, more manly. You value control of women's bodies because you are afraid of women's power. Yet you argue that you are protecting life, See above. You value money over life because money gives you a sense of power and control. But you can't eat money. You can't breath money. You can't drink money. You can't love money, and you...
I choose these words with care. In your mind I am that bleeding heart "Libtard" "Feminazi" bitch who should remain silent.
But let me tell you who you are . . .
You are cowards.
You value guns over life, because a BIG gun makes you feel powerful, or perhaps, more manly. You value control of women's bodies because you are afraid of women's power. Yet you argue that you are protecting life, See above. You value money over life because money gives you a sense of power and control. But you can't eat money. You can't breath money. You can't drink money. You can't love money, and you...
I Yearn for Music
by Lisa A Kramer
Now for something different. Inspired partly by Lizzi Roger's journey into Spoken Word over at Hasty Words a while back, partly by the fact that April is National Poetry Month, partly by the fact that I have been struggling with prose lately, and partly by the desire to challenge myself, I've created this for your listening/reading pleasure experience.
[audio mp3="https://www.lisaakramer.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/04/I-Yearn-for-the-Music-edit1.mp3"][/audio]
I yearn for music
I wish I could reach inside my soul
and let the sound escape
fingers flicking over strings
or dancing over piano keys.
Black and white steps to
the secret inside of me.
My heart-song.
But I do not have the power.
I yearn to raise my voice in melody
perfect pitch climbing the skies
so that the heavens open up to joy,
or perhaps sultry, husky crooning
in the deep dark depths
of a...
Going for the Goals
by Lisa A Kramer
In an attempt to stick to my promises to myself, today I started working on a submission for a children's poetry contest. (If you haven't figured it out yet, I am an eclectic writer who just loves words and writes anything that I feel like writing.) As I was working on it, however, I remembered that I had submitted to a similar contest by the same people in the past, and obviously didn't win. So, I thought I'd share that little collection of poems here for all my "adoring" fans. I think the theme of that contest was "night poems" or something like that.
DEAR MONSTER
Please,
Monster
hiding there
under my bed,
do not growl, snort or
“Screech!” Do not try to eat
me as I fall...
In Search of Inspiration
by Lisa A Kramer
I have another confession to make . . .
I often envy the people like artists and musicians who go out and make their art without letting life get in their way. I'm not talking about the big names or the movies stars, but the people who create their work and sell it at crafts fairs, or the musicians who do mall gigs in local pubs or busk in the streets--the joy of making music pouring out of them. I mean the brave souls who may never make millions of dollars or big names, but have chosen to live life following their bliss and living their dreams.
Of course, I am sure they too struggle with everyday concerns, but I love watching...
Thoughts from the Roof, the Road, and Points in Between
by Lisa A Kramer
I've often written about life as a journey. In many ways, that is the guiding metaphor for my life recently.
Because of that, interesting things happen when you commit to taking an actual journey. A compact version of the journey of life, with the only difference being you know your destination (home), your traveling companions (Nathan, Sarah and the Dogs), and your general route (East).
Other than that, the past several days have been a physical as well as an emotional voyage filled with sights, sounds, thoughts, doubts, fears, inspiration, frustration and hope.
First, of course, I bonded with a gorilla, a reminder to me that we are not the only creatures that think and feel in the universe.
[caption id="attachment_6978" align="aligncenter" width="640"] Different...
Because of that, interesting things happen when you commit to taking an actual journey. A compact version of the journey of life, with the only difference being you know your destination (home), your traveling companions (Nathan, Sarah and the Dogs), and your general route (East).
Other than that, the past several days have been a physical as well as an emotional voyage filled with sights, sounds, thoughts, doubts, fears, inspiration, frustration and hope.
First, of course, I bonded with a gorilla, a reminder to me that we are not the only creatures that think and feel in the universe.
[caption id="attachment_6978" align="aligncenter" width="640"] Different...
Conscious Creativity (100 WCGU)
by Lisa A Kramer
It's been a while since I've entered Julia's 100 Word Challenge for Grown-ups, but this one seemed fun and. . . challenging . . . so here goes. The challenge is:
The roman numeral for 100 is C so let’s make it the ‘Big C’. It can be any topic, any genre but to add a twist, each line must begin with a word beginning with the letter ‘C‘!
It has led me to a bit of poetic silliness. Be sure to visit Julia's blog and the other people who take up the challenge. Or better yet, join in the fun.
Conscious Creativity Creativity rules in my world of words care to join me and have your voice be heard? Cautious creation is not welcome here 'cuz I no longer want...
Conscious Creativity Creativity rules in my world of words care to join me and have your voice be heard? Cautious creation is not welcome here 'cuz I no longer want...
Writing as a Group
by Lisa A Kramer
I have a friend who meets with me for a mini-writing group of sorts. We talk, share our writing dreams, sometimes share things we've been working on, and then give each other a quick writing challenge.
Yesterday, I dragged my brother along, as he is with me, since he is here playing "Uncle Dad" to help out in this week of insanity. As we talked, he wrote a stream-of-consciousness blog post that reflected some of our conversation. When it was time to write, he suggested we do one of those group poem experiments, where one person writes a line, only allowing the next person to see the last word. The next person writes a line with that word as inspiration and...
Yesterday, I dragged my brother along, as he is with me, since he is here playing "Uncle Dad" to help out in this week of insanity. As we talked, he wrote a stream-of-consciousness blog post that reflected some of our conversation. When it was time to write, he suggested we do one of those group poem experiments, where one person writes a line, only allowing the next person to see the last word. The next person writes a line with that word as inspiration and...
Today He Would Have Been 80
by Lisa A Kramer
Dad and Sarah when she was around 3
We should celebrate you today, with cake and ice cream, laughter and smiles. But you left us much to soon.
I miss you Dad!
Perhaps it wouldn't hurt so much if the ravages of a cruel disease hadn't taken you before your time as you faded into your own memories and we watched you go . . . leaving behind a box full of images and a heart full of sadness.
The Memory Box I gave my parents for their 50th anniversary last year.
Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much if Alzheimer's hadn't removed the wit and humor (and bad jokes) before we wanted to let them go.
Perhaps it wouldn't hurt so much if I had said goodbye.
But I know it would still hurt!
Because we should celebrate...
We should celebrate you today, with cake and ice cream, laughter and smiles. But you left us much to soon.
I miss you Dad!
Perhaps it wouldn't hurt so much if the ravages of a cruel disease hadn't taken you before your time as you faded into your own memories and we watched you go . . . leaving behind a box full of images and a heart full of sadness.
The Memory Box I gave my parents for their 50th anniversary last year.
Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much if Alzheimer's hadn't removed the wit and humor (and bad jokes) before we wanted to let them go.
Perhaps it wouldn't hurt so much if I had said goodbye.
But I know it would still hurt!
Because we should celebrate...
The Unheard Voice
by Lisa A Kramer
She speaks in words
loud and clear
and yet remains unheard;
as minds and voices
with determined ears
overturn her words.
A Zentangle made as I searched for words.
It matters not what this woman thinks or what she has to say their minds are set their goals are clear they will have their way.
The woman screams a silent scream and reaches deep inside to find the voice that they will hear to speak her words with pride.
"My thoughts are mine my choices too of that you have no say so listen now hear my words they will not go away."
A Zentangle made as I searched for words.
It matters not what this woman thinks or what she has to say their minds are set their goals are clear they will have their way.
The woman screams a silent scream and reaches deep inside to find the voice that they will hear to speak her words with pride.
"My thoughts are mine my choices too of that you have no say so listen now hear my words they will not go away."
A Spot of Silliness in Celebration of Words
by Lisa A Kramer
Banner created by a long time friend of mine (too long to count) Geoff Casavant)
Today I’d like to celebrate the words I love to say; words that scintillate words that titillate and words that have their way every time you write them down or speak them to a crowd, these words have ways of standing out and proclaiming that they’re proud of being words so eloquent that your mouth delights in form words like “amorphous,” a shapeless word that conveys a sense of mystery, or “crepuscular”, a twilit word we never use enough-- instead we write of failing light and the growing dimness of dusk. “S”-sounds slip into my mouth with mellifluous ease, seducing me with their insouciance, a susurrating tease. However, it’s not just beautiful words that seduce me with their song but words that hit me viscerally --a cacophony gone wrong. Words that punch...
The Journey as Sestina
by Lisa A Kramer
I felt like writing poetry today, and decided to challenge myself by writing in a form called Sestina. I've only used this form once before, in a poem I wrote years ago for my sister called "A Sestina from the Heart".
MOVING INTO THE UNKNOWN
Box by box, item by item, I pack for our move
to a place both familiar and yet unknown
pursuing a life or perhaps a dream
of days filled with fulfilling work and challenges
met with a smile, a laugh, and joy
and evenings filled with stars, friends, and peace.
What will it take to find that peace?
Does the solution lie with this next move?
Or does the truth lie with inner joy
and acceptance that life is a journey into the unknown
with every day...
The Journey in Etheree
by Lisa A Kramer
For the poem, I attempted another etheree, as I thought it would create the image of words moving into the distance down the road. It reads as follows: Now Begins The Journey Moving onward into the unknown. In the distance, a choice as yet unseen, a tunnel a fork in the road to somewhere beyond the knowledge and the dreams and plans of the woman who moves forward bravely. ____________________ Today's Quote:
"It is better to travel well than to arrive. " Buddha
Cosmic Dance
by Lisa A Kramer
This post comes from the inspiration of three different women, which just shows the power and complexity of this magnificent world I call the "Blogosphere". Today, Darla at She's a Maineiac wrote the lovely poem called "Radiance at Last" in response to a challenge made by Val Erde who provided inspiration in the form of this magnificent painting by her
A few days ago, Priya at Partial View wrote "Dismissed too Soon"a magnificent post that incorporates photography and poetry to explore issues of life and death. She used the form of etheree, which she also explains: An etheree comprises of 10 lines. It begins with a one syllable line, increasing one...
A few days ago, Priya at Partial View wrote "Dismissed too Soon"a magnificent post that incorporates photography and poetry to explore issues of life and death. She used the form of etheree, which she also explains: An etheree comprises of 10 lines. It begins with a one syllable line, increasing one...
I'm Not Old Enough
by Lisa A Kramer
This is my response to the fabulous Tori Nelson's post called "old enough."
I'm Not Old Enough . . .
. . . to give up my dreams in the face of other people's sense of
what is appropriate;
. . . to sit in a corner gathering dust
while younger generations act like my time has passed;
. . . to fade quietly into an existence defined by other's
and yet society wants to make that so.
I'm not old enough . . .
. . . to live without the joys of childhood
like ice cream on a sunny day
or conversations with stuffed animals.
. . . to live without singing and dancing
for the pure joy of song and movement
. . . to be afraid of getting dirty
with paint...
The Balance of the Detail
by Lisa A Kramer
When I created my little award the other day, I sparked an interesting discussion on the role of detail in writing.
So, for the sense of clarity, I'm going to go a little more into detail about what I meant. ;)
I'm not arguing for long, drawn out passages of purple prose that try to paint a picture for the reader that would be better done through a visual. Nor am I arguing for sentences that wrap words around each other in a complex convolution that ultimately has no meaning or does not move the story forward. I'm the first person to skim through those verbose passages as my inner vision never matches the description anyway. I will put down a book...
So, for the sense of clarity, I'm going to go a little more into detail about what I meant. ;)
I'm not arguing for long, drawn out passages of purple prose that try to paint a picture for the reader that would be better done through a visual. Nor am I arguing for sentences that wrap words around each other in a complex convolution that ultimately has no meaning or does not move the story forward. I'm the first person to skim through those verbose passages as my inner vision never matches the description anyway. I will put down a book...
Long Distance Loss
by Lisa A Kramer
Newspaper headlines capture my eye "Alzheimer's deaths soar, research funding lags" "Camp gives teens respite from Alzheimer's" I cry. I ache. I wish. Links to my family severed by time by distance by disease. Part of me yearns for proximity to help to connect to understand. But closeness will not stop a disease that shows not mercy. Money will not stop a disease of creeping time. Love will not stop the slow decay of inevitability. Guilt will not heal the broken connections of a family fragmented long before the invasive disintegration of memory, of hope, of dreams, of soul.
I Give You Permission . . .
by Lisa A Kramer
I give you permission . . .
to paint the sky green and the clouds purple and the ground blue.
to create something out of mud, water, pen and ink.
"The Long Walk Home" by Heather Henry
to write about love, or hate, life, or work.
to dance to your own inner rhythm or to the music blasting out of your stereo.
to pursue knowledge because you love to learn, and then throw that knowledge in the air to pursue something else.
to leave your house messy as you follow other projects.
to live in the present with only positive thoughts about the future.
to celebrate your family and your life in every way possible.
to cry, yell, scream, and moan, as long as you don't...
to paint the sky green and the clouds purple and the ground blue.
to create something out of mud, water, pen and ink.
"The Long Walk Home" by Heather Henry
to write about love, or hate, life, or work.
to dance to your own inner rhythm or to the music blasting out of your stereo.
to pursue knowledge because you love to learn, and then throw that knowledge in the air to pursue something else.
to leave your house messy as you follow other projects.
to live in the present with only positive thoughts about the future.
to celebrate your family and your life in every way possible.
to cry, yell, scream, and moan, as long as you don't...
