Still Breathing

Hi, just wanted to quick let everyone know I'm still alive and hoping to have a longer blog post soon. Just been trying to keep my head above water, dealing with severe anxiety, seeing my psychiatrist and coping with constant med changes and all their fun side effects. I apologize for not visiting my fav blogs or answering comments. I'm hoping to be back at that again soon too. I miss all my friends out there in cyberspace, and I hope that you are all doing well.

Be back soon.

Jane

Following Persephone?

No, I haven't fallen into a bottomless abyss where my screams will echo, unheard, for all of eternity, I just haven't been online hardly at all, which seems to be the norm lately. I find myself withdrawing from the world ever more, even the online world. I'm not sure why. There's a lot evolving within me for which I don't have words, which is saying a lot as I'm never completely without words, though I may struggle to weave them into poetic form. Or maybe it's such a private, special thing that I don't want to vocalize it to the world. It's as if I've partaken of the pomegranate and joined Persephone in the Underworld where all is bleak and dark, yet somehow comforting, a journey which will show its divine purpose in the end. Maybe there's some type of transformation taking place, I don't know. I feel as though things are bubbling beneath the surface that will eventually bear fruit, but for the moment they are to remain hidden, intangible.

Sacred Shadows

It's been a while since I've written anything but today, with the help of the Simply Snickers prompt, I was able to write this poem.The prompt words were:

sacred, sorrow, surrender

Sacred sorrows
surrender to shadows
gliding through her mind
like angel's wings
comforting
yet unsettling.
Past memories
unfocused
blurred by eternity
drifting aimlessly
underneath awareness
unable to grasp
with ghostly fingers
trembling
cannot banish the pain
the shame
those elusive companions
riding the waves
of uncertainty.

'Sacred Shadows' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 3/7/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Paranoid Ramblings

I've been a wreck the last few days, though I'm holding it together fairly well considering, at least on the surface. In addition to the depression that is becoming heavier and more bothersome I've been in a panic with a large dose of paranoia thrown in for extra fun. This poem is a result of that.

eyes, eyes everywhere
angry eyes
hungry eyes
judgmental eyes
straight outta hell eyes
bent upon destruction
watching
scrutinizing
sneaking
creeping
stalking
stripping me bare
naked
vulnerable
alone
paranoid
terrified
horrified
petrified
of what could be
what might be
what may never be
racing heart
sweaty flesh
breath comes
in ragged gasps
running
falling
tripping
stumbling
trying to escape
those eyes
eyes, eyes everywhere

'Paranoid Ramblings' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 2/17/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

More Awards! Yay!

I am so flattered and touched! I just received an email from Kat @ Poetikat's Blasts from the Past and Poetikat's Invisible Keepsakes and she gave me this:


Thanks so much!

I also received this award from Young Women Writers:
At some point I will pass these on, but I have to figure out which blogs will receive it, there are so many that I love!

Thanks again!!

Volatile Emotions

This poem was inspired by the Weekend Wordsmith prompt Boom. It's rather short and possibly seems incomplete to me, but then again maybe not.

Boom!
Emotions explode
twisting and churning inside
a foul brew, tasting bitter and
rancid upon her tongue.
Blindsided by pain,
stricken, paralyzed by
agony, despair and
a ravenous rage
that can never be satiated.
A poison within her
slowly, deliberately devouring her
with an intensity that never subsides.

'Volatile Emotions' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 2/8/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Untangling the Past

Cafe Writing's February project is up and the theme is Love Letters. As usual, I chose Option Six, which is to pick at least three of the words offered. These are the words from which I had to choose:

greeting, hands, imagine, leave, letter, people, train, trespassing, washing

Here is the poem I created using those words. If you are looking for a sentimental, lovey-dovey piece in honor of Valentine's Day that is all flowers and romance, I don't do those so you'd better look elsewhere.

hands wrinkled, gnarled and weak
grasp letters, yellowed with age,
stale and musty smelling,
softly crinkling between her fingers
memories unwanted,
trespassing upon her soul
outside, in the world she abandoned eons ago,
a train whistles its melancholy tune
the heavy drapes that smother the sun
can't suffocate the sound
nor keep it from piercing her
with its desolate loneliness
eyes unseeing imagine the past, untangling
what could have been,
what should have been,
from what never was

'Untangling the Past' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 2/8/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

W.O.O.F Contest Top Picks

Last week I entered some poetry into the W.O.O.F Contest, and I was chosen as one of the top picks, which I am quite happy about. As required by contest rules here are the links to all those that were honored to be chosen as top picks.

Poetry
~willow~ - “Observe! How not to meditate?” - A tongue-in-cheek look at how (not) to meditate.

Patricia Schoenberger - “Event Horizon” - This is a poem that I wrote, loosely inspired by the scientific term, Event Horizon.

~willow~ - “Lost in Lust” - 17 words, 7 lines, 1 hot poem!

khaye cardenas - “The Fiction Writer” - A fiction writer’s life.

Dragon Blogger - “Bedroom Jungle” - Random twitter word poem about passion in the bedroom, great poem made from random words.

Prose
About Writing
Catherine @ Sharp Words - “My love affair with poetry” - The first part of a brief series describing my life with poetry.

Writing Nag - “The Magic of Three” - What is the rule of three in writing? How does the rule of three work in writing? This post gives examples of the rule of three in creative writing and includes the Writing Nag’s rule of three.

Fiction - Charlotte Faulkner - “blood is blood is blood and love is true vision” - Charlotte, a freshman at Bailey University, reflects about the inauguration, her crush, and life at college.

Opinion / Tributes / Philiosphy / Thoughts
JHS, Esq. - “Tuesday’s Tribute: Florence Wendland” - A tribute to my client, the late Florence Wendland, from whom I learned a great deal about unconditional love, commitment, tenacity, and faith.

Hopeful spirit - “The New America: A Call to Disagree Without Being Disagreeable” - At last, Barack Obama has assumed office and the United States has entered a new era. He challenges us to disagree with each other without being disagreeable and, toward that end, included a diverse and eclectic group of people to share in his inauguration ceremony and festivities. Can America rise to his challenge?

Brought to you by PlotDog Press with the Serial Suspense Screenplay “Intevention“

Congrats to all the winners!

Top Droppers and Bipolar Awareness Poem

In honor of Bipolar Awareness Month at Being Bipolar, I have written a poem about my experience with it. But first, I'd like to thank my top EC droppers for January.

The Fearless Blog
Blog Fiction
Richard's Journal
The Way I See It
My Library
kath.A.rine
Venessa Giunta's Writing Journey
Caught In The Stream
Lights Camera Action
Gewgaw Writings

Thanks for dropping!

These are all wonderful blogs and I encourage you to check them out!

And now, onto the poem...

Disco Delirium

moments lost
trying to grasp normality
a twig, a branch
a way out of insanity
slipping, sliding
falling up and down
this way, that way
despondent, ecstatic and
back again
reality hides
ducks and weaves
elusive as the holy grail
rainbow pills
lined up in a row
bring no peace
no sense to lunacy
mania strikes, quick and
brutal, crashing
again, dive into despair
catch your breath
hold on tight,
swings you around
tosses you about
dancing with hysteria
there's no way out

'Disco Delirium' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 1/31/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Stumbling

This poem is a 3WW creation, the words this week being:

caress
jagged
ruthless

I'm not sure if I like the title to this one and I may change it, but for now it's Stumbling.

hopeless despair
ruthlessly caresses
weeping wounds and
jagged scars
with razor edges,
frigid tendrils of ice
that burn through flesh and
soul

'Stumbling' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 1/29/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Phantoms and Shadows

I wrote this poem for the Sunday Scribblings prompt 'Phantoms and Shadows' which is as follows:

This week: things and people, times, places, events and how your memory has treated them. Are there people you try to remember more clearly, phantoms you'd like to reach back into the past and take a firm hold of? What do you remember of your early school years? College years? Your grandparents? First pets, first houses, first friends? Do you have a good or poor memory? If you could go back to any particular time/place to recall more vividly what it was like, what would that be?

I wrote a poem for this prompt and a brief essay about my memories.

Ephemeral Memories

Memories
wispy threads
fleeting thoughts
caught in the wind
blown carelessly
through my mind
shifting, changing
dissipating into
dark recesses
lost to age,
decay or
misuse

I don't have many childhood memories and the ones I do have are vague and unclear, like an old black and white movie with its grainy picture, blurred and out of focus. Those memories are rarely specific, but are of general events that occurred frequently so that they have worn a sort of groove or rut in my mind from repetition so that they are easily called into remembrance, like swimming in my grandparent's pool; the parties my grandparents used to throw with all my aunts, uncles and first, second and third cousins; summer vacations with my family at Bambi Resort and then at our cabin, days spent swimming, nights crowded around the campfire; heading to the mall with my mom, grandma and brother on Sundays for our 'Target Fix;' the chocolates we used to buy at Fanny Farmer on those Sundays, milky and gooey; our trips downtown once a year to see my great uncle Bobby and eat at The Nankin; the smell of my grandmother's bathroom, which was redolent with the scent of Dove soap, cigarette smoke, and powdered make-up. Sometimes, yet not often, a memory comes to me clear and powerful, the force of it impacting my psyche like a brick; those are almost always triggered by something, a scent or a sight that stimulates the synapses of my brain, dredging up from the depths of my mind something long forgotten that is almost immediately lost, to never again resurface.

'Ephemeral Memories' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 1/28/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Much Luv and Thanks

Just wanted to take a moment to thank those who read, and especially those that take time to comment. I always respond to them in the comment section, though it often takes a bit of time for me to do so, so be sure to check back later for my responses.

Have a wonderful day all!

Jane

A Poem, Evolved

This was originally a poem I wrote way back when in 2006. I had planned to post it as a repeat since I hadn't written anything new but when I went to tweak it to see if I could improve it, it evolved into something almost completely different. I guess I can't say that I haven't written anything new then. If you care to compare the original A Poem to this new, evolved version, I'd be curious to see which version you like better. I might change this one a bit more, cuz I can't concentrate right now with my daughter prattling on incessantly, but this is what I have for now.

Sadness ebbs and flows around her
an ocean of pain she cannot contain,
despair in motion, liquid cruelty
that steals her breath
along with all that she is and
can never again hope to be.
The tears that never fall choke her
a lifelong obsession with death;
so many times almost took her
yet hasn't bested her yet.
Not from lack of trying
on her part, she's done enough
to encourage her sweet descent
into darkness so pure and sublime,
yet somehow always denied.

When she dies will the fires consume her?
Will they feast on what's left of her flesh?

Life's promise languidly perishes,
Psychic imprints are all that remain.
Embodiment has wasted away,
leaving behind decisions neglected,
cursory illusions, misconceptions and
mistakes that eternally haunt
this person aching to be consumed
by eager flames awaiting her soul.
A future destined to be, faith
that the end will come, and free
her from the pain that never ends.

'A Poem, Evolved' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 1/25/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

New Prompt and Contest @ Jane's Inspirations!

I posted a new prompt over at Jane's Inspirations. I'm also holding a contest to find a new name for my Saturday prompt, and the winner will receive 200 EC credits and the choice of one book out of several that are yet to be determined. So what are you waiting for? Head over there and check it out!

Jane

An Award!!

I received an award from Poetikat from Poetikat's Blasts From the Past and Poetikat's Invisible Keepsakes! It is the Friendship Award and I am very touched that she chose me as one of the recipients. I've won quite a few awards on my other blog, Insanity Personified, but I believe this is the first award I've received for this blog.

If you haven't been to Poetikat's sites yet, be sure to check them out. She is a wonderful writer and I am always delighted by her pieces.

Now I need to pass this award on to others, but I haven't the time to do it now, so I'll have to come back later.

Thanks Poetikat!