Being Mommy

I have spent time reflecting on the wonders of motherhood lately, I love being mom to my sons. I know that I have talked about my children on several occasions here, but I cannot help myself. They are an enormous part of who I am and who I will become. As they grow and change I also grow and change.
By no means do I mean to say that I am comprised of mostly my "mommy" characteristics, I only mean to say that being mom to two boys has made up a great deal of who I have become.
I was initially a bit wary of raising a boy, since I had spent most of my life until my son's birth around girls. I am the oldest of three girls and of eight grandchildren on my mother's side, there were only two boys. So, when my bouncing baby boy came into my life I was, understandably, slightly overwhelmed by the task before me.
That being said, I have settled into this role I have been placed into and I love my boys like nothing else in this world. I cannot imagine my life without them in it.
A while back I wrote this poem for my youngest son, whom I have found the most challenging in temperament, and whom I often find myself most frustrated with, but I love him no less than his older brother. Honestly, his ability to challenge me is good for me and forces me to find new ways to approach parenting and exercise patience.
So now that I have rambled on about being a mom and my fabulous sons I will move on to the end and give you the poem. Please, enjoy and have a blessed day!

For My Son

He chases dandelion fluff,
He dances with bubbles in the air.
He chases his hero, his knight so tough,
with sunlight shinning in his hair.
With dimples dancing upon his cheeks,
sparkles glinting within his eyes,
and a mouth from which laughter leaks
he plays as if he owns the skies.
So, keeping my little love from harm,
I watch all around,
for danger coming from up afar
to that which may strike from the ground.
All the while he plucks flowers of yellow
and plays with every bug,
thinking them funny fellows.
Oh, my child, my child, my precious dear,
how I love you so!
I'll revel in your smiles so dear
and watch you as you grow.
-Constance

New Phases

I have begun a new phase in my life recently. A lot has changed and many changes are coming still. I will not be going into those at the moment, but I will say that as I have evaluated my life I have found much about my life that I wish to change, and I have begun making them.
In celebration of these changes I'm posting a newer piece of mine here and will do my level best to post more often (I promise!)
So, without further ado my new post and my new poem!

Killing Kindness

I'm gonna hit you
Like a bullet between the eyes,
With kindness.
I'm gonna slay you
With my eyes,
Filled with joy and light.
I'm gonna kill you with my kindness.

I'm gonna hurt you and you're gonna like it.
I'm gonna kill you with kindness, darling.
You're gonna like it.

I'm gonna melt you with warmth,
With my arms around you.
I'm gonna love your flaws
With all of my flaws.
We're gonna be amazing
After I break you down.
I'm gonna kill you with kindness.

I'll put you back together
While I rebuild me.
My kindness is growing
Please don't flee.
-Constance

There it is! I hope you enjoyed reading it and getting to know this small piece of me.

Negligence

I am a supremely negligent blogger. I honestly am. I am not, however, negligent of my creativity. I have written a great deal over the time that I have been absent from my blog.
My negligence has been 90% laziness and 10% lack of any real desire to post. If you are reading this blog I would joyfully welcome some feedback to help with that motivation please. Even if it is only to say you are unimpressed I would appreciate the honest opinion.
Either way.I am determined, once again, begin posting my work. That being said, I have selected a piece I wrote about myself and the fear involved in sharing my work.
It is an honestly terrifying and daunting prospect each and every time I post a poem I have written. I am literally putting a piece of my innermost self out for the world to see. It's an intimidating undertaking each and every time and it never ceases to rattle my nerves a bit.
So with an apology for my extended absence and without further delay I give you a new poem!

Of Me

I think in color and light.
I imagine in musical sound.
Chaos is my inspiration.
My soul writes it down.

Ingrained in my being
Is an artwork so rare
To show it to you
I must lay myself bare.

One small line at a time.
One lofty note after another.
Until you've seen me as I am.
Sister, daughter, mother, lover.

It is a naked portrait.
Can I still hide?

-Constance

There you have it! Love it? Hate it? Let me know!

I didn't disappear. Honest!

I didn't disappear. Honest! I've just been truly lazy about this blog. I've not even slacked off of writing. I have written quite a number of poems of late. It seems the laziness only extends to posting on here. Oh well, here I am, ready to post away. That is, if this ice storm doesn't deprive me of power.
This particular piece I am rather proud of. I know that the human soul is a much pondered upon subject throughout the history of man. Philosophers, musicians, writers, and scientist through the ages have tried to describe, define, classify, understand that intangible force within us all. The very spirit of a person.
I, myself, have spent a great deal of time pondering upon the human soul, the spirit within us. This is merely one of many compositions I have written on the subject. I hope you enjoy it and it doesn't come across too cliche.

Glorious! Terrible!
The soul within
Light with emotion.
Imbued with sentiment.
Glorious!
Terrible!

Love, hope, joy, affection.
Hate, despair, sadness, disdain.
A delicate paradox.
Glorious!
Terrible!

Coruscant, intangible thing
Within us all
How blessed a gift.
How simultaneous a curse.
-Constance

There you have it! Enjoy! Or not... that is up to you! Have a lovely day!

First post of 2014, FINALLY!

So, this is much later than I had anticipated posting. My new year so far has been, trying. My eldest son finally got to go back to school today though. I was beginning to think that between the abysmal weather and on again off again water issues throughout the county he would never return. He was beginning to believe it too, and was none too pleased about it. Hopefully there will be no more arctic weather invading and things can return to some modicum of normalcy.
Last weekend I spent Saturday evening with my lovely sister-in-law, April, celebrating her birthday and watching Sherlock, again. (We have watched it too much I think.) I also asked her to choose for me between two poems I wrote a couple of months ago. The following is the one she chose.
It is a perfectly self explanatory piece, so I won't waste time going on about the foibles of man and blindness of the powerful. I hope you enjoy it!

It, I believe,
Is the nature
Of man
To destroy,
To create,
To govern,
To revolt,
To love,
To hate.

However, I see,
Not conflict,
But creative chaos.
A connected purpose.
Merely working
In opposing cycles.
Impeding the other
In their perceived goals,
Convinced of their own sainthood.
Never listening to
The quiet hurt
Of the ones they claim
To champion.

Look, listen,
Then-
Speak.

-Constance

There you go! Happy belated New Year! May it be blessed and joyful.

Christmas Magic

I have spent the past few days baking and making candy in preparation for next week's festivities. I love baking and making sweets, but this is the only time of year I truly allow myself to indulge in doing so. I am joined in the kitchen sporadically by my eldest son, who seems to believe that every step of making these things is endlessly fascinating.
This awe and curiosity reminds me of being a child and watching my mother bake cookies and getting in her way in an attempt to understand how she was doing it. I was convinced my mother worked magic at one point. She was a sorceress of the kitchen, magically taking things like flour and butter and sugar and making beautiful, scrumptious things! It was amazing!
Of course, now I know what is going on in the theater of my childhood magic show. I am the sorceress, transforming and entrancing. I had forgotten how fantastic it all is until I watched Caleb learn to mix dough, decorate a cookie, melt butterscotch, and sample the product of his work and diligence. This is my Christmas magic moment.
So, here is a brief poem that I composed to attempt to convey that feeling, the warmth and affection, involved in cooking in the kitchen in preparation for Christmas fun.


Magic

Sugar and vanilla.
Peppermint and chocolate.
Flour and butter.
Childhood memories,
Kitchen magic.
Warmth and laughter.

Messy hands.
Ruffled aprons.
Christmas carols.
Baking smells.
Smiling eyes.
Laughing smiles.
Kitchen magic.
Christmas magic.
Love's magic.
-Constance

The Humble

I know, it has been ages!!! Shame upon me! I've been without motivation and stuck in a funk of angst, creatively that is. I'm generally put out with the world and general idiocy of societal sheep and have suffered for it. I don't want to be the angry poet lady who rages at the world from her quiet corner of the blogger universe all of the time. I know that there are good things going on, merely overlooked by most or simply not given the praise it deserves.
In honor of the humble humans out there who give to others, lend a helping hand, or go beyond the call of duty in the name of kindness with no expectations of praise or acknowledgement in any form, this is for you. I wrote this several weeks ago, and now seems an apt time to drag it out of my journal and onto my blog.
I pray you enjoy it and that it inspires you to say thank you to the quiet humanitarian in your life and maybe commit an act of altruism yourself. It wouldn't hurt the world if we all did a little something for someone else anonymously here and there.

The Humble
The grandest humans
Are seldom the greatest.
The loudest champions
Are seldom true heroes.
The most generous
Are often without.
The unfailingly kind
Are often sorely used.

No parades thrown
Honoring their glory.
Few songs sung
Telling their story.
The rewards unseen,
A spiritual glory.
In other's shadows
Moving mighty mountains.
True gifts to humanity,
These ceaseless fountains.

-Constance

There you have it. God bless you all and may you all give a little to others in this season of giving.