Jane's Insane Writings

Savage Death-A Repeat

2011-07-23T01:00:00.000-05:00

Yes, it's another repeat, but I've been so creatively barren that you must forgive me...

Savage luminosity glimmering in yellow eyes
rapacious wanderings, tearing hunger ripping our insides.
Beasts with pointed advantage
preternatural strength, wicked teeth tear through flesh
with the slightest provocation, no protection
from the evil that lurks in the shadows.
Bewildering misfortune falls upon you this night
no reprieve from the pain and agony
fated to befall you; incoherent ramblings, piercing screams
puncture the darkness, shattering the silence
of the slumbering world; have you fallen into disfavor
with the gods? Have they abandoned you to
death and dishonor? It matters not to us,
the predators seeking their prey,
ruthless victors in a game so cruel,
we devour you without pity or remorse.

'Savage Death' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 2008, all rights reserved worldwide

Beautiful-A Repeat

2011-07-21T03:47:00.000-05:00

I wrote this poem a long time ago. I found this picture online and was stricken by the exquisite beauty of this woman's soul.

Beauty is not a fad

nor dictated by runway models

in desperate need of a cheeseburger.

Beauty is in these eyes

that have seen both hope and misery.

Each wrinkle weaves

its own tale. Beauty is in

this soul that radiates

wisdom and peace.

Beauty is in the moment

she finds to pause in her chores

and have a smoke.

Beauty is not a fad,

nor dictated by shiny

fashion magazines with their

anorexic waifs staring at the camera

with empty eyes.

Beauty is this woman

dark skin, sparse white hair

blemishes and all.

Can you read between the lines

see the glorious splendor etched

into every crease of her face?

Can you see the wonder of her soul?

Wasted Life

2011-05-27T01:04:00.001-05:00

empty hours stretch on in silence
but for the hollow tick, tick, ticking
of time, endless. lifetimes falling
into an abyss of loneliness
devoured by regret and apathy.
fear infects the soul, consumes it
until cowardice is all that remains.
failure torments unceasing
those undeserving of mercy.
aching hearts find no clemency
in the phantasms of the past
that cling mercilessly to memories
tainted by loss.

'Wasted Life' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 5/27/11, all rights reserved worldwide.

Primal Longings

2011-05-23T08:27:00.001-05:00

This poem was inspired by a Toasted Cheese prompt from October 2010. Yeah, I'm a bit late with this one.

"She sat on the patio watching moonlight and shadow dance."

She sat on the patio
watching moonlight and
shadow dance
twirling ecstatically
as they frolicked
under the velvet ebony sky.

Stars sparkled with applause
in awe of the glorious
spectacle. Silently she watched as
peace and joy rose within her heart.
The crickets and frogs serenaded her
songs of love and devotion
that refreshed her weary soul.

Meadow grasses whispered
to the leaves rustling among the trees
murmured conversations
eliciting primordial yearnings. .
In the distance wolves howled and yipped
echoing the longing in her heart
a desire to flee the world with its chaos
to run free and unencumbered
under endless moonlit skies.

'Primal Longings' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 5/22/11, all rights reserved worldwide.

The Rite of Her Sacred Fires

2011-05-22T01:11:00.000-05:00

This poem was written after performing The Rite of Her Sacred Fires on May 16, 2011 in honor of the Goddess Hekate. It was a beautiful, uplifting ritual that moved me to tears and this poem in no way comes close to capturing that. It was beyond wonderful to commune with the Goddess.

A hush

stillness

silence
descends.

Black candle set
upon simple altar

shrouded by shadows.

Chants prepared
in honor of Hekate

Light-Bearer
Goddess of Magic
Witchcraft and
the Moon.

I invoke Thee

Queen of Witches and
the Underworld.

I light the Sacred Fire
stare into the flame
dancing
immerse myself in Your Mysteries.

Guide me upon Your Path
Grant me Your Wisdom
Your blessing upon me.

Energy roars through me
tingling
my spirit soars
my heart sings.

I cry tears of joy
unashamed.

I am complete.

Fulfilled.

At peace.

I extinguish the fire
but carry Your Light
within my soul

always.

Blessed be.

'The Rite of Her Sacred Fires' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 5/19/11, all rights reserved worldwide.

Darkness Devours Reality

2011-05-15T21:23:00.000-05:00

I'm way late with this poem inspired by words from Three Word Wednesday. But I've been floundering amid multiple health problems, a gazillion doctor's appointments and troubles with a cantankerous teen. I've been so exhausted from it all that I've had no creativity. None. But, I've been working on this poem for a couple of weeks and I think I finally finished it. I think. At least this is how it is for now.

I picked words from two separate weeks, they were:

evident, illusions, tragic

adamant, fabricate, peculiar

Peculiar fabrications
mimic reality
adamant in their insistence
that they are truth and

reality is a rabid lie.

Tragic illusions
scar a mind already marred
by confusion and catastrophe.

Cataclysmic nightmares
evident in the screams and shrieks
ripping through the veil of darkness
shrouding sanity.

Livid light bleeds into the morning
not even the sun can illuminate
this darkness, oppressive and fathomless.

Corpulent, bloated, sinking deeper
into a great sucking void
tentacles of terror gripping
leaving huge, gaping wounds
that fester and weep.

'Darkness Devours Reality' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 5/5/11, all rights reserved worldwide.

Specters of Agony

2011-03-24T20:00:00.002-05:00

Torn, flesh ripped open
bleeding
emotions raw
throbbing
heart aches

gaping wound
festering
rotting
the stench of it
nauseating.

Bleeding
oozing despair
desperately
trying to survive
the agony of this existence.

Silent scream
echoes
through this empty house
spiders spinning and
the ghosts of the past
haunting are
my only companions.

Fall into sleep
eternal rest
soothing oblivion
dreamless sanctuary
where the specters of agony
screeching their scornful shrieks
are silenced forever.

'Specters of Agony' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 3/6/11, all rights reserved worldwide.

Resting in Nature's Splendor

2011-03-16T16:17:00.000-05:00

Before I get to my post, I must apologize for not answering comments yet from my last post and returning the visits of all who stopped by my humble little blog. Hopefully I'll be able to get to that today or tomorrow. Life, in all its craziness, has taken its toll on me.

This poem was inspired by this week's Three Word Wednesday. The words were:

breeze, mellow, tickle

Soft breeze gently kisses my cheeks
grass tickles between bare toes.

Vibrantly blooming flowers
a riot of color in the garden.

Mellow clouds meander across
stunning azure sky.

Eager sun smiles upon me
brightens my weary soul.

Turmoil within slows
its tumultuous tumbling.

The world with its stresses
trials, tribulations and suffering
fades softly away

as the birds serenade the bees
while the trees rustle their leaves and
my heart bursts with new-found joy.

Resting in Nature's Splendor' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 3/16/11, all rights reserved worldwide.

Seductive Beauty

2011-03-10T19:00:00.000-06:00

This very short piece was inspired by Three Word Wednesday, the words being:

dainty, haunting, tantalize

I was totally enchanted by these words and within 5 minutes this poem was born. I like them so much I might also write a different, longer poem using them.

Haunting beauty
mesmerizes, tantalizes
lures me into a web of seduction
from which I may never escape and
gratefully will I indulge in
her dainty, delectable delights
until the day I draw my final breath.

'Seductive Beauty' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 3/10/11, all rights reserved worldwide.

Good Morning Sunshine!

2011-02-26T16:17:00.000-06:00

It took me a few days to finish this poem, but I finally did it. It was inspired by Three Word Wednesday:

figure, juicy, stress

She is a stunning figure
standing boldly in the predawn gloom
as the sun lazily peeks
one eye over the horizon
not quite ready
for the cock's crow.

Arms raised to the sky
legs spread, bare feet
planted in the juicy, dew-kissed grass
she eagerly awaits
the dawning of a new day.

All cares set aside
stresses and woes
disdained, all attention focused
on this miracle in motion.

With gradual grandeur
pink, red and purple
streak across the morning sky.
Lightening, brightening

the sun slowly emerges
reluctantly rising from his cozy bed
finally bursting forth
in all his glorious splendor
caressing her with his radiant rays.

'Good Morning Sunshine!' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 2/24/11, all rights reserved worldwide.

An Incident on Route 36

2011-02-23T16:13:00.001-06:00

I don't have anything new to post, so I'm posting another repeat. This, very violent (I was once told that it's reminiscent of Quentin Tarantino), short story was inspired by 3WW a while ago, the words being:

inappropriate, order, and shortcut

The men made inappropriate remarks as she brought them their order, three Big Boy Breakfasts. As a waitress in a dusty truck stop in the middle of the Arizona desert, along a major shortcut on the highway, she was all too used to being groped and harassed. The men were heavyset, donning dirty overalls and wife beaters, their long greasy hair loosely tied into ponytails. A dime a dozen, these truckers were, and after a time the faces all melted together until she couldn’t tell one from another.

“Hey honey, I gotta Big Boy for ya!” One of the men cried, grabbing his crotch.

Melissa rolled her green eyes, threw her long blond hair over her shoulder, and shot back, “Oh please Larry, the only thing big on you is that gut. I’m surprised you can find your penis to piss.”

Larry glowered and hung his head, sufficiently subdued, at least for the moment. The other waitresses and customers scattered through the diner chuckled as he stormed out back to the bathroom. They did not feel sorry for Larry; he was always harassing the waitresses, as though they were paid to be his personal toys.

Besides, he should have known better than to take on Melissa, she did not accept the harassment meekly and without comment like the other waitresses. Mack, one of the truckers, had remarked one day after she burned him with a particularly wicked retort, “She’s sure gotta set of brass one’s on her!”

“Good one Mel!” Theresa, the diner’s aging, overly tanned and leathery manager, said appreciatively as Melissa stalked past her to the back for her smoke break.

She settled in at the picnic table, lighting a menthol with trembling fingers. She knew she shouldn't let guys like Larry bother her so much, but sometimes she just couldn’t help it. She’d been working this diner for three years, ever since her father had kicked her out of their trailer on her 17th birthday, and she was fed up with their abuse.

“Well, looky what we got here!” Larry commented as he emerged from the bathroom to find Melissa alone. He was still fuming over her insult and a thirst for retribution flared brightly in his eyes.

"Get lost Larry. I'm in no mood for you today." She said, flicking cigarette ashes in his general direction.

"You just think you're shit don't stink, now don't ya girl? I think somebody should put you down a few notches, and I'm of a mind to do it." He smiled lewdly at her; a malevolent, predatory grin that bared his yellowed and crooked teeth.

Fear, slick and slippery, slithered into her stomach. Larry had always seemed harmless, a jackass, but a harmless jack ass. Yet now she could feel the hostility rolling from him in great waves of bitter hatred; malice smoldered in his eyes.

Suddenly feeling like a trapped animal her breath came in quick gasps as her eyes darted around, looking for an escape. As he closed the distance between them in long, purposeful strides she jumped up from the picnic table. He blocked her path to the back door so she flanked him and broke into a run, intending to flee to the front of the building but he was surprisingly fast considering his immense girth. Within the span of a breath he was at her side, grabbing her by the hair and forcing her to the ground.

He pinned her down, grunting and tearing at her skirt. He would show her the consequences for fucking with him in as painful a manner as possible. Desperately she tried to shove him away, her fingernails digging deep into his sweaty flesh. He stank of rotten onions and dirty laundry, the smell nauseated her. He hit her in the eye; stars swirled through her mind and she struggled to maintain consciousness.

Her purse lay in the sand, having fallen to the ground when he attacked her. She reached for it, her fingers brushing against it, but she could not grasp it. Larry forced himself inside of her, his hands around her throat, strangling the life out of her as he raped her. She knew she did not have much time left.

He shifted position slightly, enabling her to reach inside her purse, pulling out a lipstick container. She opened it to reveal not a flattering shade of Pretty in Pink, but a small yet wickedly pointed knife that was hidden inside. He did not see it until it was too late. She stabbed him in the neck, piercing his jugular.

He grasped his throat and gurgled, blood spilling through his fingers, raining upon Melissa’s face and pink uniform in a scarlet river. He feebly tried to stand but only made it to his knees before he gave a final gasp and went limp, falling onto Melissa. Relived that she had survived the struggle, she grunted and pushed Larry’s body off of hers. She stood slowly, her legs trembling. As she swayed unsteadily on her feet Larry’s buddies, Al and Jake, wandered out the back door.

At first they seemed confused by the scene, not sure what to make of Larry’s corpse and the blood staining Melissa. It did not take them long to recover their wits. Al sprang into action and rushed Melissa, hitting her square in the stomach with his shoulder, thrusting her to her ground. He would kill the bitch for what she had done.

Melissa tried to catch her breath, she had taken the blow hard and he had knocked the wind out of her. Before she could recover Al punched her in the nose and she tasted blood. He grabbed a handful of hair and yanked viciously. She squealed in pain.

Jake watched Al as he beat Melissa mercilessly, cheering him on. He did not notice Melissa’s knife lying in the sand, inches from her hand. She wiggled and tried to work her way out from under Al. Tears streamed down her face and her breath came in wheezing gasps as she desperately tried to escape his fists. Finally she succeeded in reaching the knife once again. With a wicked slice she cut his upper arm, this time slashing through the brachial artery.

“You fucking bitch!” He shouted. He rose up on his knees and raised his arm to hit her again but was already weakening as the blood gushed from his damaged artery. Jake watched, frozen in horror as his friend quickly bled to death.

When Al’s lifeless body fell to the ground Jake recovered from his shock and reached into the back of his jeans, pulling out a gun. He cocked it and pointed it at Melissa, who had scrambled to her feet, knife at the ready to defend herself yet again.

Fuck. She thought, terror boiling deep in her belly.

“Drop the knife, bitch.”

She let the knife fall to the ground before putting her hands in the air. She thought about trying to reason with him, but knew that reason would have no effect upon his misogynistic mind. Her only other hope was to beg for her life, which she would not do. She refused to beg this filthy, hairy piece of shit for anything.

Out of options, she resigned herself to death and braced herself for the bullet. She prayed it would be quick.

A shot rang out, deafening her. She flinched, waiting for the pain of the bullet entering her flesh, tearing apart her organs. Instead she heard a soft thud. She opened her eyes to find Theresa standing over Jake’s twitching body, her sawed-off shotgun still smoking.

“You okay hun?” She asked.

Melissa nodded uncertainly.

“You got a spare uniform here?” Theresa surveyed the carnage as she lit up a Marlboro Red.

“Yeah. I think so.” Melissa answered.

“All right then. Clean up this mess out here. The hose is in the shed. Bury the bodies with the rest. I’ll send one of the busboys out to help you. When you’re all changed and cleaned up, you’ve got tables waiting.”

'An Incident on Route 36' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 2008, all rights reserved worldwide.

Ain't No Shakespeare

2011-02-19T19:10:00.002-06:00

This tongue-in-cheek piece was written for Carry on Tuesday's prompt

'parting is such sweet sorrow'

and Weekend Wordsmith's prompt

'Maul'

I thought about writing something all sweet and flowery for Carry on Tuesday, but then I vomited a little and decided I'd toss the 'Maul' prompt into the mix and head in a totally different direction.

Oh, and if you haven't read my previous post and want to exchange links, let me know!

Enjoy!

Parting is such sweet sorrow. Unless you've dated the assholes I've had the pleasure of knowing. Then you just want them to roll over and get the hell out. To say that my love life thus far has been utterly dismal is to say that Hiroshima was a big explosion. Talk about an understatement. Love ain't all roses and romance, honey, sometimes it's about having your heart mauled and mangled until there's nothing but bloody strips of severed flesh left to show for it.

Cynical? Maybe. But the truth is, fairy tales aren't real, or they wouldn't be called tales. They'd be documentaries. Try as you like, no matter how much you kiss that frog, in the morning he'll still be a frog. And he'll most likely leave his underwear lying on the floor.

It's enough to make a gal bitter, but don't let it. Not only is it not worth the pain, but if you do, that bitterness will fester within you, bubbling and broiling and eating away at you until there's nothing left but a brittle shell of resentment and loathing. That never looks pretty in a bridesmaid dress. And there will be plenty of those. It will seem like everyone around you is getting hitched; everyone but you. But, just remember two things: a frog doesn't look all that good in a tux, and being a single woman isn't the vacuous pit of vicious desperation that society would make it out to be. Alone and lonely don't have to be synonymous.

Does all this mean that you are 'doomed' to a life of solitary singleness? No. Not if you don't want to be. Personally, I enjoy being single most of the time. I can do what I want, when I want, with whomever I want and there's nobody texting me wondering when the hell I'll be home, and can I pick up some beer on the way? But, if you still long to be shackled in the chains of matrimonial bliss remember this: not all men are assholes. It's shocking, I know, but it's true. That guy you met in Caribou yesterday might always be a frog, but he's cute, funny, and interesting, so what are you waiting for?

Of course, if it doesn't work out I hear frogs legs make a great delicacy.

'Ain't No Shakespeare' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 2/19/11, all rights reserved worldwide.

Care to Trade?

2011-02-18T22:22:00.002-06:00

I'm starting a new blogroll, if you are interested in swapping links, leave a comment with the address to your site.

downward spiral

2011-02-15T12:29:00.005-06:00

*FYI: I've changed this piece since I first posted it, and will likely come back to do it again later.

despair surges in
as weeks of mania shatter
leaving the euphoric shards of
gold-tinged reverie to
cut me to my core

bleeding

heart aches with a heaviness
that drags me deeper
into desperation

tears sting my eyes
reluctant to fall
for once they start
they may never cease

sorrow strangles me
leaves me breathless and
longing for comfort

the wailing wind outside
laments my misery and
my soul echos its
mournful cries

'downward spiral' copyright patricia schoenberger 2/13/11, all rights reserved worldwide.

A Lazy Day in July

2011-02-13T12:29:00.001-06:00

I linked to this poem at Poets United: The Poetry Pantry. There's a lot of other great writing there so check it out and post your own link!

The lake was utterly still,
a sheet of glass
spread before him.
No breeze stirred
even the tiniest of waves.
The only movement upon
the water were the rings
that fanned out
from his bobber
wobbling gently and
the occasional plop
of a fish as it jumped
at the dragonflies
darting across the lake.
The rays of the sun,
inviting and warm,
caressed his skin softly,
sparkled brilliantly on the lake.
The sounds of insects
buzzing and croaking frogs
serenaded him,
punctuated by the occasional
call of a loon,
Nature's stunning symphony.
Occasionally he dozed
briefly, lulled by the slight
rocking of the boat
and the warmth of the sun.
The fish weren't biting
but he was not disappointed.
He was content
to lounge in his boat, enjoying
the beauty of perfection.

'A Lazy Day in July' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 2/13/11, all rights reserved worldwide.

Subliminal Fantasy

2011-02-12T11:18:00.001-06:00

Since I haven't written anything new lately, I'm posting another repeat. This poem just kinda fell outta my head one day.

Aberrant colors pierce my mind,

blinding me with brilliance,

sharp and savage, like razors of ice.

Pleasure and pain, two sides

of the same coin,

one intensifying the other

until they cannot be distinguished.

Lights pulsating to the beat of

music thundering through my head,

a symphony of my own twisted creation,

a perplexing cacophony of radiance and

sound, it resonates deep within,

piercing into the depths of my soul.

A subliminal hallucination

erupting before my eyes, I'm

losing control, losing my grip
everything is spinning wildly,
careening madly out of time and space

a crescendo of color and sound

exploding in my mind.

Psychotic Breakdown

2011-02-09T19:38:00.001-06:00

Descent into madness
time and space melt into surreal
images that drip, drip, drop,
delusions that flare into reality
as reality fades into liquid illusion
ever mutating in an eternal cycle
of madness and clarity.

The killing fields are ripe and waiting,
do you have the balls to heed their call,
hurtling headlong into sanguine rivers of
cannibalistic hallucinations?

Endless eons spent languishing in this prison cell
trapped within the confines of my own
lunatic mind; the world fades, my sanity evades
me, I have nothing left of substance
nothing to keep me tethered to this existence.

The killing fields are ripe and waiting
do you have the balls to heed their call,
hurtling headlong into sanguine rivers of
cannibalistic hallucinations ?

The pressure builds, the tension throttles me
time has no hold upon the moment that stretches
taut until the SNAP reverberates inside
screaming to me with each staccato beat
like boot steps marching to apocalyptic doom.

The killing fields are ripe and waiting
do you have the balls to heed their call,
hurtling headlong into sanguine rivers of
cannibalistic hallucinations?

'Psychotic Breakdown' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 1/22/11, all rights reserved worldwide.

I Want to Believe

2011-02-07T13:22:00.001-06:00

This poem was written for the Sunday Scribblings prompt: Story

Weave me a story
of candy and roses and
utter devotion, of
kisses and caresses
and wicked passions
that warm a frigid heart
curing the loneliness
that bludgeons me
within the darkest night.

Let it begin with
'Once upon a time'
all the best ones do.
Tell me of the princess
alone in her dark tower
abandoned and deserted
her heart aching
longing for liberation.

But never need she worry
for her dashing prince awaits
upon his handsome steed
ready to free her from her prison
sweep her off her feet and
awaken her affections
with that lustful kiss.

Tell me a story of
love's enchantment
of burgeoning desire
bursting with ecstasy.
Maybe it will heal
this mutilated heart
entice it to believe
in candy and roses
in kisses and caresses and
star-crossed lovers
locked in heated embraces.

'Once upon a time...'

'I Want to Believe' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 2/6/11, all rights reserved worldwide.

Goddess of Desire

2011-02-06T13:04:00.002-06:00

This poem is for the Writer's Island Prompt-Beguile

Beguile me with your eyes
gaze deeply within and
contemplate my soul
probe my inner depths and
behold me raw and exposed.

Seduce me with your charm
adorn me with your flattery
lure me into your heart
compose your words into
a sonnet worthy of this
epic love.

Bewitch me with your touch
ignite searing flames of carnality
upon my frenzied flesh
let your fingers linger
in my favorite places as

our bodies converge
feverishly fondling
shuddering in the rapture of
passions sublime.

I am ambrosia

the sweetest treat
a delicious delicacy
teasing and taunting
your tastebuds
leaving you longing for more
always more.

Fulfill my every desire and I
will unlease my ecstacy upon you
lavishing transcendent satisfaction
rapture beyond compare
as you weep in unabashed awe
beholding me in all my glory and
aching for my devotion.

'Goddes of Desire' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 2/5/11, all rights reserved worldwide.

Scratching the Surface

2011-02-02T17:41:00.000-06:00

This poem is for this week's Three Word Wednesday. I'm really not happy with this poem, but then, am I ever happy with anything I write? No, I keep picking and poking at it until it probably gets infected. But still, I'm listing this one under the label, 'Mule Puke' until I have played with it a little more.

abrasive, handful, loss

Her personality was abrasive
like having a handful of sand
ground into your eyes.
No stranger to loss, it
seemed better to her to inflict pain
before becoming the victim
to leave before she was left.

Hardened and jaded
not much could penetrate
her armadillo flesh
the caustic words and scathing
retorts a meager defense against
the storms raging inside.

Most people took her at face value
allowed themselves to be repelled
by a gruff exterior and unkind words
I suppose you could hardly blame them.

Yet, had anyone cared enough
to dig just a little deeper
they would have found scars and
wounds in need of patient healing
and a heartbroken little girl
who just needed to be...well, needed.

'Scratching the Surface' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 2/1/11, all rights reserved worldwide.

Evening Strolls In

2011-01-31T08:31:00.003-06:00

This poem is far from finished, but I figured I didn't want to spend the next week tweaking it and then have it be too late to post at the prompt sites. So, without further ado: This poem was written for two prompts this week:

One Single Impression: Evening

and

Sunday Scribblings: Safe

Shadows cavort and frolic
at the edge of evening's reign.
A lone lamp lights the living room
with a soft glow that doesn't entirely chase
all the shadows away.
I sit, curled up
on the overstuffed black couch
engrossed in a story, sublime in the telling.
The sun has settled wearily upon the horizon
a bump of red in the dusky sky
nothing more.
I pause in my book to breathe in
the evening air, clear and crisp
admiring the last light of day
before it is extinguished by
the soothing evening gloom.
Cuddling up under my red blanket
as the cool night air wanders in through
the yawning window
I revel in the quiet solitude
safely nestled among evening's shadows.

'Evening Strolls In' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 1/30/10, all rights reserved worldwide.

Conquest

2011-01-18T11:47:00.000-06:00

Finally, I was able to write something. Let's hope it's not a fluke and I can continue writing. This poem was inspired by last week's 3WW. The words were:

harmless, moist, yelp

Harmless. It's what
you claimed to be.
Relentless is more like it
pursuing me with a single-minded
ferocity that snatched my breath away.

You hold me so tightly I yelp
nervously running my tongue
over moist lips
as my heart flip-flops in my chest
unsure if you are what I need.

Wanting with every fiber of my being, yes
but needing, now that's another story.
Letting go of sanity, giving in to wild abandon
has brought nothing but misery
in the past.

Yet the ache, the longing, the incessant craving
throb within me; delicious and sweet
you are a luscious treat
tempting me with the glorious pleasure
awaiting me if only I succumb to your advances.

Strength eludes me, I cannot resist
your warm lips upon my flesh; your hands caressing
my curves sets my body aflame.
I press myself against you and despite the warnings
screaming in the back of my mind,

I surrender, scorning what is needed and
release the rapture raging within me
ravenous passion rushing through me as I
allow myself to at last indulge
in the desperate wanting of desire unbridled.

'Conquest' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 1/17/11, all rights reserved worldwide.

Killing Me Slowly

2011-01-16T12:00:00.011-06:00

Here is another repeat. It's been twiddled and tweaked since first written, but other than that I haven't even bothered to try to write lately. I hesitate to say that I've given up completely, but for now I'm still feeling achingly barren. This poem was written with that barren feeling in mind.

Errant words
elude me, flitter
and flutter
through my mind
teasing, always evading
me. Desperately I

covet inspiration
longing for the words
to arrange themselves
properly
line by line
upon the paper
instead of this mess
screaming in my brain
words flying about
here and there
but never landing
anywhere.

Emptiness breeds agony
the pain is extraordinary
violent in its determination
to destroy me
by withholding
the one thing
that brings life
to my shattered soul.

Murky thoughts
adrift in delusion
shrouded by fear
and frustration
without the words
to complete me
will I just fade away?

'Killing Me Slowly' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 11/23/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

P.S Link to your poem at Poets United, I did!.

Days Roll By

2010-12-27T19:41:00.000-06:00

This is something I wrote back in February. It's dark, yes, but my life has been dark and dreary, with the exception of the bright spots of Yule and Christmas, so sue me.

Days roll by
a dreary compilation
of sadness and fear
trapped within this nothingness
can't shake the feeling
that I've left something behind.

Nagging whispers haunt
my days; ever mocking
they know my secrets
the ones long forgotton
or repressed.
They curl in my mind
like smoke, twisting and twirling
elusive; I can't catch them
with fingers grasping.

Silence, once a treasured thing
now crashes against my mind
with its endless deathly quiet
that I cannot escape
shut in with the dust and spiders
spinning diaphanous webs
that would glimmer in the sun
if only I could open the shades.

Days roll by
crushing me with the weight
of responsibilities
I cannot fulfill, these damn diseases
crippling me, mind and body
leaving me helpless
before an onslaught of misery.
All has dwindled to a ceaseless
whirlwind of agonizing pain
spiraling around me
never ceasing its assault on my sanity.

It's tearing me apart
ripping flesh from bone
there is no release
there is no liberation
there is no hope
there is no clemency
just this awful emptiness
that devours me endlessly
as the days roll by.

'Days Roll By' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 2/5/10, all rights reserved worldwide.

An Apology, Holiday Wishes, and a Rerun

2010-12-25T10:44:00.000-06:00

Hello all! No, I don't have any new creative writing to share. Bummer, I know. I've been scraping my skull trying to come up with something but there's just nothing there. But as soon as I write something new, you'll be the first to know.

I wanted to apologize for taking so long to responding to the comments on my last post. It's been crazy around here, my daughter and I have so many appointments for health issues and other such things, not to mention the holidays sneaking up on me. But I'm going to respond to the comments as soon as I finish this post. I also plan to catch up on my blog reading. I'm woefully behind on that too.

Merry Christmas to everyone! Can't forget that. And Happy New Year. I hope everyone has a delightful holiday. We celebrated last night at my parent's house and it was wonderful.

And last but not least, since I don't have anything new to post, I'm going to post a rerun. This is something I wrote a year ago, back when I was suffeirng from insomnia.

Nightime Ecstasy

Darkness permeates me
caresses my fevered flesh
fondly; night has fallen
devoured the day.
I exult in the ecstasy
of the late night gloom
penetrating me.
Full Moon shines
brilliant in Her luminescence
She infuses me with light and
shudders of elation
pervade me to my core.
Snow falls outside the window
burying the death and decay
with shimmering flakes
of the purest sparkling white
that muffle all sound.
Sitting alone in the silence
looking out upon the world
shrouded in it's frigid mantle
it's as if I'm the only person in the world
to witness the beauty of this night.

'Nighttime Ecstasy' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 11/28/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Desolate Storm

2010-12-11T17:16:00.001-06:00

This is the first piece I've written in far too long. It's not my best work, but sitting here tonight in the storm, thinking of the day when both my girls will be gone, I can't help but wonder what the future holds, and this just popped out.

Snow whips through the frosty air
the blizzard rages
trapping me inside
this house, inside this mind
where empty thoughts swirl
in a furious whirlwind that
leaves me spinning
and twirling madly
the hysteria consuming
what little is left of my sanity.

The wind howls and screams
this storm confining me
to a barren house
cold and longing for what once was.
Yet where else would I be found
were the sun to shine
and the birds to sing?

Another meal eaten
in silence and solitude
no one to ask, 'Pass the salt, please.'
The silence swallows me
consumes me with teeth gnashing
as bitter tears fall, wondering
what will happen
when I am old and broken.

I fear that time will dessicate me
leaving nothing more than
an aching husk of a once vibrant life
abandoning me to my own insanity
until I am not even a whisper left in the memory
of those I once loved.

The frigid air snakes in through the cracks
leeches into my bones
leaving me cold and afraid.
The storm rages on as it has for days now
slowly burying the world
I once knew
in a blanket of bleak desolation.

'Desolate Storm' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 12/11/10, all rights reserved worldwide.

Frustration

2010-10-20T09:38:00.001-05:00

For those of you that still pop in occasionally, I'm still around. Sorry for the lack of posts, but I just haven't been able to write anything lately. It's so frustrating. I have all these words locked in my head but I don't have the key to free them. So, here is a repeat of something I wrote a long, long time ago.

I desperately need to write, I long for the peace that it brings to my frantic soul. I sit at the computer, staring into the blank document that mocks me for my inadequacy. No brilliant ideas, no eloquent words flow from the keys as I type and I am frustrated. My soul is blocked, overcome by negative energy and fears I can not contain. My spirit is tired and weary of the fight, of the daily struggle to survive. There is so much I need to put onto this page but my mind is a barren wasteland numbed by the tediousness of daily strife. Each day has ceased to be its own entity and now all flow together into a tapestry of despair that can not seem to be overcome. My soul is drowning in angst, slowly suffocating under the weight of responsibilities I am powerless to fulfill. The days grow ever bleaker and the road in front of me is shrouded in perpetual blackness. If I only had one hint, one hope to cling to as I battle the darkness, but nothing seems certain anymore. Each attempt to claw my way out of this desolate pit, every accomplishment seems pointless for with each hard won victory there are a thousand devastating losses. I feel lost, alone, and in my despair I wish I could find the words to describe it.

'Writer's Block' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 2005, all rights reserved worldwide.

Mabon Ritual

2010-09-19T07:22:00.001-05:00

This poem was inspired by a Toasted Cheese prompt for September (9/16/10). The words were:

breathe, candle, bottle

This poem needs a little explanation, I think. It depicts a solitary ritual celebrating Mabon, which falls on the Autumn Equinox and is the second of the three Pagan harvest festivals (the other two being Lammas on August 1 and Samhain on October 31). It is not a precise adaptation, but it is close.

Oh, and just so you know, any comments denouncing my religion (Wicca is a federally recognized religion) or trying to proselytize to me will be immediately deleted. I respect everyone else's religion, viewing them all as different paths to the same Source, and I expect the same respect in return.

Candle flame flickers and frolics
upon the walls as I anoint myself
with the bottle of essential oil of rosemary.
Breathe in the sage burning
fragrant; a scent that transports me
to another place and time.
Smoke rises from the censer
twisting and turning,
ascending to the heavens,
cleansing sacred space and
pleasing before the gods.

Incense for Air,
candle for Fire,
chalice for Water,
salt for Earth,
all the Elements are represented.
Russet and yellow candles,
illuminate my altar gaily;
harvest fruits and vegetables
are arranged there as well,
wine and cakes waiting to be blessed.

I call the upon quarters
East, South, West, North,
then walk the circle round,
I am now between the worlds
of the gods and humanity;
blessed is my temple.

Invoke the Goddess and the God
invite them to witness my rite
celebrating Mabon and magick
to be performed here tonight.
My heart flutters, my spirit soars,
I am bursting with Their bounteous love.
Speak my litany, dance the vine dance
partake of the Mother's harvest
with joy and gratitude for Nature's gifts.

Time for magick, there are spells to be cast
for prosperity, protection and harmony;
candles, runes, athame, and wand,
herbs, charms, potions and chants
are all the tools of my Craft.
Speak my will, it shall be done
as I will so mote it be.

Ritual winds down, ground myself
with cakes and wine,
release the Quarters, thank the gods
the circle is open but never broken
merry we meet, merry we part
and merry we meet again.

Blessed be!

'Mabon Ritual' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 9/17/10, all rights reserved worldwide.

Waltzing with the Fog

2010-09-15T10:57:00.002-05:00

This poem was inspired by Carry on Tuesday. I'm a day late in posting it but I've been busy the last few days and this is the first chance I've had. I might add to this piece, it seems too short to me, or incomplete somehow, but it's what I have for now.

The prompt is:

"One misty, moisty morning."

Arising with the dawn
one misty, moisty morning
I looked out upon the display
outside my bedroom window
to see the fog waltzing through
the trees and dampening the grass.
The meadow flowers bowed before
the hazy clouds of mist;
I could not resist the urge
to dance amid the gloom.
Kicking off my slippers
I raced right out the door and
burst into the hazy morning
laughing, twirling and whirling.
The damp grasses tickled
between my eager toes,
we danced to the blissful melody
of nature's glorious splendor.
Tendrils of fog tenderly
wove into my hair, grasped
my hands with fingers gossamer
as we waltzed together gaily
through the misty morn.

'Waltzing with the Fog' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger, 9/14/10 all rights reserved worldwide.

Screaming Silence

2010-09-12T09:15:00.002-05:00

This poem was inspired by a Toasted Cheese writing prompt from August: "She wanted to talk with someone. Anyone."

and

by a Magpie Tales prompt:

She wanted to talk with someone.

Anyone.

The emptiness was overwhelming.

Her only companions were the ghosts of the past

that drifted around her

in the dust-speckled sunlight

grasping at her with diaphanous fingers

plucking, plucking, plucking

at her soul.

Silence steeped into her bones,

settled into her ears, so thick

sometimes she thought

she must be deaf.

Solitude permeated her existence,

she never ventured out,

and no one ever visited

except the grocer's boy

who delivered her groceries each week

but had no inclination

to spend time with a crazy old recluse

like her.

She stood before the window

her back turned away

for she could not bear to see

the streets teeming with the life

she was too afraid to share.

Instead of opening up her world

the window shrunk it

with glass impossibly thick,

the barrier an ever present reminder

of her isolation; a tangible representation of

the barricades she had erected

to keep everybody out.

It was as though she could look out

but no one could look in.

Indeed, no one bothered to look in

or spared a glance or

a moment to tend to an aching soul

in such desperate need.

Life was too crazy, the rat race

too harsh, the day too short

to offer a patient ear.

Averting her eyes from the view

she drew the velvet drapes closed,

settled into her chair, threadbare

from years of sitting,
and whispered to her ghosts,

the scream of empty silence
reverberating in her ears.

'Screaming Silence' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 9/11/10, all rights reserved worldwide.

Struggling to Create

2010-09-11T11:30:00.001-05:00

Even though I've been writing again it's been exceedingly difficult to do so. I have to work so hard to extract the words I want from my psyche. It's like dental surgery. It's maddening. But, at least I'm writing.

It didn't used to be this hard.

I didn't have to work so diligently

to weave the words together

into a tapestry vibrant and rich.

I'd sit down at the computer,

blank page inviting and enticing,

a shiver of eager anticipation

tingling in the back of my mind.

A deluge of words upon paper

without much effort at all.

Now it's exceedingly painful

to paint the paper with words,

digging deeper and deeper within,

hoping to find something sublime.
Anxiety grips me each day,
as I settle in to write,
a serpent coiled to strike,
paralyzing me with its poison,
leaving me barren and hollow inside.

Sensuous Rhapsody

2010-09-09T11:25:00.004-05:00

Oh, you have no idea how good it feels to be writing again! The quality of writing still isn't what I want, or what I've been capable of in the past, but I'm writing!!! You have no idea how much that thrills me after a year or so of being unable to write anything other than a few mule puke poems here and there. I wouldn't categorize this poem as mule puke, it's slightly better than that, so that's progress.

This poem is a Three Word Wednesday creation. The words this week are:

charm, feast, robust

Feasting upon your charm

robust desire quickens
flutters of longing in my heart.
Tender kisses upon fevered flesh
reveal lustful intentions;
skin to skin our bodies intertwine.
Rapture sublime shivers through me
passion swells, wave upon wave
crashes over me with an intensity
that steals my breath away.
Gentle caresses turn frenzied
desperate yearning must be quenched;
ecstasy inflames my craving
permeates down into my soul.
Sensuous rhapsody of love,
my body sings with every tremor;

need and fulfillment collide.

Hungry for all that you are

you satiate my every desire

yet always leave me wanting more.

Silence Lies Broken

2010-09-07T10:27:00.010-05:00

This poem was inspired by The Tenth Daughter of Memory Prompt: 'Silence Lies Broken'

I'm debating whether I just want to end with the first stanza or if I should keep the second stanza. I'm not sure I like how it ends, and the first stanza may be complete enough on it's own. I haven't decided yet.

Silence lies broken and
shattered at my feet.
I uttered the words
that were never meant
to be spoken; some subjects
are supposed to be taboo.
Tell that to my tongue
who so carelessly threw
such words about
without regard for the carnage
that was sure to ensue.
Feelings were hurt, tempers flared
more words were bandied about
hearts lay open and bleeding
egos bruised, broken and twisted
the damage could not be undone.
A battlefield it was, though none of us
stood triumphant, in bandages
bloody and torn.

Silence lies broken
its shards litter the floor
if only the pieces could be put
back together, none of us
would hurt anymore.
But words are like toothpaste
that you can't stuff back in the tube
and you're left with a sticky mess
so many amends to make
egos to soothe and
apologies to profess.
It's really a delicate matter
that could altogether be avoided
by simply biting your tongue.

'Silence Lies Broken' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 9/7/10, all rights reserved worldwide.

Emerging into Sunlight

2010-09-07T09:58:00.006-05:00

Ok folks. I haven't written anything in a very, very long time, but I decided to just sit my butt down and stare at the blank page that mocks me until I came up with something. To help me with inspiration, I've been sifting through all the writing prompt sites I can find. I combined three prompts to come up with this piece: Choices (One Single Impression), Wait (Sunday Scribblings), Breakthrough (Writer's Island). It's not my best work, but it's something.

Waiting for a breakthrough,
for a little light to shine
upon the shadows of my existence.
Darkness endured these long years,
no sunshine penetrated the armor
that encased me so completely.
Fear colored all of my choices,
everything faded to black;
no way in, no way out,
surrendered to the misery
of total isolation.

Yet morning has arisen
upon this eternal night,
cracks and chinks in my armor
emerge; sunlight peeks inside
illuminating the shadows
that I now know are a figment
of frenetic and fevered delusions.

Waiting for a breakthrough
though I know it won't be long,
each day the sun penetrates
a little more into the haze
of confusion that clouds my mind.
I'm not ready to discard the armor yet;
nor face the world in all its madness,
but bit by bit the sunlit brilliance
warms my frozen soul, scatters
the shadows into obscurity
and soon enough I will be flying free.

'Emerging into Sunlight' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 9/7/10, all rights reserved worldwide.

Still Alive

2010-08-13T11:58:00.002-05:00

No I haven't fallen off the edge of the Earth. It is round, remember. No, I haven't fallen into an abyss of nothingness. Nor have I slipped into the 7th Circle of Hell on account of the fact that I already live there. No, I just haven't been writing ~~much~~ at all. It's been making me crazy. I've been uber stressed and uber busy though with all kinds of personal crap I won't get into here. I have other blogs for that. But, needless to say my life has been filled with even more insanity than usual, which is partly why I haven't been posting any writing here. The other part is I'm still crippled by writer's block. Arrgh. That's making me crazier too.

But, just wanted to drop a note to let the few readers I still have left that I'm alive and kicking.

Strawberry Dreams

2010-07-14T19:24:00.002-05:00

Strawberry dreams sunder reality,
adrift in a cerulean sky,
lazily creeping across the horizon
only wisps of certainty, nothing more
sun shines brightly on hopeless wanting
leaving me empty and hollow inside.

Pretty delusions all a flutter
so many butterflies imagine
Technicolor thoughts longing for substance
in the midst of black and white reveries,
there's no hope for listless wanting.

Waterfalls whisper pretty melodies
lost upon the annals of time
there's no wishes where hearts tremble
yearning for something more
yet always left aching, waiting
for the fulfillment of fantasy.

Wistful for wanting but I find
no release, no love to be found
in the depths of ignominy
so many tears left to be shed
yet pride eliminates every one
leaving me with nothing but
a vacant shell and
words tarnished with lost hopes and despair.

'Strawberry Dreams' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 7/14/10, all rights reserved worldwide.

Fair Weather Friend

2010-06-25T12:40:00.002-05:00

This poem is inspired by the Carry on Tuesday prompt, "Well, nobody's perfect"

Well, nobody's perfect
yet perfection is what you expect
maybe because you envision
yourself to be better
than everyone else.
Fair weather friend
flits in and then out
when times get rough
you only want to call me 'friend'
when the sun is shining bright.
You cannot understand
the searing pain that rips
apart my soul
every time you turn away
the tears that fall
in the sleepless nights
wondering what went wrong
this time
wondering why you left me
yet again.
If only you thought about it
for a moment
maybe you wouldn't be writing me
now, wanting to flit back in
maybe, you'd understand why
this time
the door remains closed.

'Fair Weather Friend' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 6/22/10, all rights reserved worldwide.

Crippled and Empty

2010-06-22T10:30:00.003-05:00

I'm longing to create but the words won't come. I'm dry. Brittle. A vacuous pit of gaping nothingness. And the people upstairs are playing their music really loud which is making all my shit on my bookshelves and tables rattle, which is pissing me off, but really that's the least of my worries.

It's this writer's block that is making me crazy(er). I'm not myself if I'm not creating. Oh sure, I've written a couple poems, but they are mule puke. There's no satisfaction, no sense of accomplishment when you read what you've written and think, "That's mule puke, that is."

I love to write, it's my bliss, my reason for living, the words come together and complete me. Without them I am nothing. Less than nothing. I remember the days when the insomnia would strike and I'd be up in the middle of the night, darkness caressing me, the words flowing from the keyboard as I typed and I'd write 3 poems each night. I miss those days. Long for the words as though they were sweet heroin. I need my fix.

So yeah, that's what's been consuming me lately. Eating away at my soul. Eroding my essence.

My Goddess Guide Me! oracle says there is a purpose in this passive time but I'll be damned if I can see it.

Nature's Melody

2010-06-14T08:13:00.004-05:00

Since everything I write lately turns out to be Mule Puke, I'm posting a repeat.

Melodious whispers
leaves rustle on the trees in the night
fire pops and crackles
the scent of wood smoke dances
on the breeze; permeates the air.
Dark waters of the lake
lap lazily against the shore
stars shine down, bating us
in their stunning, sparkling light.
Harvest moon shimmers on the water
lonely loon calls for a lost mate
crickets chirp, frogs croak their watery tunes
a fish jumps, plops in the water
mosquitoes buzz, slap them away.
Darkness has fallen, vanquished the day
night's creatures have awoken
a cacophony of sound
a melody as ancient as time itself.

'Nature's Melody' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 6/28/08, all rights reserved worldwide.

Unforgettable

2010-06-11T10:00:00.002-05:00

I was thrilled to learn that Writer's Island is once again up and running and offering weekly prompts. The prompt for this past Saturday was 'Unforgettable.'

Unforgettable are the tears
shed in joy or pain
indelible marks left upon a soul
like a gentle summer's rain
or a raging storm, leaving
nothing but destruction behind.

Unforgettable are the scars
etched deeply upon a tender heart
wounds that rip open time after
time, for to harden yourself
to the pain is to never live again.

Unforgettable are the memories
that make us who we are
moments lived as we walk upon
the path that is our destiny.

Unforgettable is the knowledge
of the lessons we are taught, for
it is only in the learning that we grow.

Unforgettable is the love
that has nurtured all our lives.

Unforgettable is the love.

'Unforgettable' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 6/6/10, all rights reserved worldwide.

Surviving

2010-06-10T09:28:00.005-05:00

Here is another poem inspired by ThomG at Three Word Wednesday. Thanks for the inspiration!

hidden, noble, roam

Hidden thoughts roam
through an empty mind
noble desires dissipate
in the monotony of
tedious days never ending.

Demands fall upon deaf ears
distant recollections of words spoken
yet unheeded, their meaning
lost somewhere along the way.

Opaque promises leave
something to be desired
a craving for so much more
a yearning to let go and live life

with reckless abandon
deliciously devouring every
precious drop of pleasure
to be found.

But responsibilities weigh heavily
on stooped shoulders
that have known only the burdens
of misery and fear.

Blues and grays paint the canvas
of a life lost to drudgery until
abandoning hope is the only way
to stay sane in a world
of frustrated longing.

'Surviving' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 6/10/10, all rights reserved worldwide.

Blind

2010-06-06T10:49:00.005-05:00

Update: I've figured out comment moderation and am about to read and respond to all comments. Thanks for your patience.

Before I start, I wanted to let you know that I'm having trouble with my comment moderation so I'm unable to receive the comments that have been left since I turned on comment moderation. I've since turned it off until I can figure out the problem. So my apologies to those who have left comments that have not yet been read.

I'm way late in posting my poem for this week's Three Word Wednesday. But, as they say, better late than never, right? So, without further ado, here is my poem.

budge, nimble, theory

You refuse to budge
from opinions half-formed
in ignorance
bursting with theories
that support
ludicrous conclusions
anything to continue
lounging in complacency.

Nimbly avoiding facts
in order to justify
your blindness
you fall into an oblivion
of half-truths and
falsehoods carefully
nurtured, constructed to
conceal irrational fears and
insecurities with no thought
to those harmed by
your unreasonable assumptions.

'Blind' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 6/2/10, all rights reserved worldwide.

Succumb to Madness

2010-05-27T09:58:00.004-05:00

This is another Three Word Wednesday creation, the words this week being,

abandon, gradual, precise

Abandoning reason
it's only a gradual slide
slipping into the insanity
raging inside.

Precise hallucinations
whirl and twirl
a cyclone of riotous color
burning in the mind
a fevered dream
of the nightmarish kind.

Spinning and spiraling
elated by hysteria
lost to illusion
reality collapses forever
slippery, elusive
madness will gladly sever

that last thread of sanity
dropping you into lunacy.
Left to its mercy you're
helpless to fight
the demons hidden within
that devour you with delight.

'Succumb to Madness' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 5/27/10, all rights reserved worldwide.

Casualty of Love

2010-05-19T16:14:00.003-05:00

It's time for Three Word Wednesday once again. The words this week were:

dread, grasp, pacify

Pacify delicious desire
with libidinous liaisons
flings bursting with passion
that fizzle out
before they can blossom.
No sense grasping love
with fingers faltering, you
can't hang on
when you hold too tight.
Dread the pain of loss
the eternal ache
of a bruised and broken heart;
it's the elusive soul
that heeds the warning
of so many shattered dreams.

'Casualty of Love' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 5/19/10, all rights reserved worldwide.

Reign Over Me

2010-05-14T15:12:00.004-05:00

This poem was inspired by the May 9th One Single Impression Prompt, Reign. Hopefully it's better than the last one I posted, cuz that one really sucked.

Your love reigned over me
yet not quite love but
an obsession I could not deny
or escape. I fell into you
so completely that I lost
myself in our passion, a casualty of
devotion, lost in emotion
raw and intense, the addiction to
you was too irresistible to resist
one sweet taste and I was
irrevocably hooked; I could not refuse
my aching need for you, for your touch
for your affection. Like liquor I imbibed you
and you swallowed me whole
intoxicating me with your wanton ways and
enticing me with flames of rapture
that warmed my frozen heart.

Your love reigned over me
and I let it; let it devour me with flames
of desire that scorched me to my soul
leaving weeping wounds that will never heal.
I surrendered myself to you, allowed you
to determine my path, my thoughts, my emotions
I let you consume me so completely that
I disappeared inside your cruel, calculating love
a love fouled by conditions and expectations.
Forgetting myself I floundered in the waves of
uncertainty, seeking any remains of me
desperately trying to find a way back to normality
but it was too late, all traces of myself
had been washed away.

'Reign Over Me' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 5/12/10, all rights reserved worldwide.

The Shield

2010-05-13T12:50:00.006-05:00

This poem was inspired by Three Word Wednesday this week. The words being,

fear, ignore, weightless

As usual, this piece needs a lot of work, but I wanted to post it today so it will just have to be a rough draft.

Her fear was tangible
floated around her weightlessly
yet violently, an apparition
only she could see and feel
haunting her every moment.
She could not ignore it,
though oh, how she had tried;
no, this fear would not be ignored
or neglected. So she carefully tended to it
as though it were a beautiful rose,
though she despised it
for the thorns that continually
stuck in her tender flesh.
Yet still she placed this flower
blossoming near to her heart,
embracing the pain digging
so deeply into flesh already bruised.
She clutched the rose,
formed of fear, bringing pain,
so very tightly to her breast,
grasping it with fingers that trembled and bled,
and it formed a shield around her,
a hard shell protecting the frightened little girl
who slowly began to wither inside.

'The Shield' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 5/13/10, all rights reserved worldwide.

The Punishment

2010-05-03T09:40:00.004-05:00

This poem was inspired by an old prompt at Read Write Poem (which is now no longer running). The prompt was to use the following words in a poem.
Her shrill voice reverberated through the air.
He flinched, knowing he was in for it but good.
She had been in a fierce mood when he left and
it didn't sound like things had much improved.
He ran from the emporium up the street
as fast as his little legs could carry him, clutching
the sack of pepper in one hand, gasping for air and
panting; he became dizzy but still he ran on.
He didn't know what he had done but
it must be a whopper cuz her anger was like
the squall of the storm come to tear him away;
he could feel it up the block. Hurdling the rusty bike
by the swing set he disturbed a crow hopping through the yard,
it took to flight with an angry 'Caw!' and a baleful glance
in his direction. Was everybody mad at him today?
He came to a quick stop at the kitchen door
just as she flung it open to yell for him again.
She stood in the doorway in her dress that needed mending
tendrils of saffron hair gyrating wildly in the wind.
Her red-rimmed eyes glared at him, the pint of Jim Beam
stuck out of her greasy apron pocket and he thought,
This is still gonna hurt tomorrow.

'The Punishment' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 5/3/10, all rights reserved worldwide.

Why I Don't Want to Get Out of Bed

2010-04-29T11:15:00.003-05:00

This is a writing exercise from Everyday Creative Writing: Panning for Gold in the Kitchen Sink. I'd explain the exercise, but it's kinda complicated. But this is the resulting poem. I'm still not happy with it, but I've been playing around with it for days now and decided it's time to post it. All my poetry seems off to me lately, I guess that comes from having such a long period of writer's block.

I could say I don't want
to get out of bed cuz
it's raining small animals
that it's too dark or too bright
or because the laundry awaits
with vicious jaws to devour me
I could say the coffee's all gone
the milk's turned sour, there's
too many bills to be paid, there's
bees outside and I'm allergic. I could
even say a plane might crash on me-well,
I do live by an airport. But
if I said all that, even though
every one is true, I'd be lying to
me and to you. Cuz the truth is
it isn't any of those things
keepin' me here in bed, but in fact
it's the heaviness and the dread
the fear closing in and the despair
that's bringing me to my knees.
I've searched for a cure
for all those things
only to find there isn't one around
so excuse me please
as I take my leave and hunker down
inside the blankets so warm and
safe and shut out the noise and sound.
You can leave your card if you like
and I'll call you when I emerge
but I wouldn't hold my breath
waitin' for me to come out
cuz it's raining small animals and
it's too dark or too bright and
the laundry awaits and
the coffee's all gone and the milk's turned sour...

'Why I Don't Want to Get Out of Bed' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 4/25/10.

Hope Restored

2010-04-28T12:05:00.003-05:00

It is Wednesday again, which means it's time for Three Word Wednesday. The words this week are:

depart, ignite, rotten

I'm really not happy with this piece yet and will probably change it, but here is how it stands for now.

The sun drowsily departs
behind the empty horizon
purple, red, and pink
ignite the evening sky with
zealous joy and ecstasy.
As shadows gently fall animals
turn towards their cozy nests
a few lingering behind
softly chattering and
making plans for tomorrow's sunrise.

Watching the stunning colors
streak across the horizon
peace settles upon me
erasing all that is rotten and
foul in this world.
All the pain and agony
disappears, the celestial canvas
of vibrant color soothes me
as the sun sinks out of sight and
I am left with the hope of
an exquisite sunrise.

'Hope Restored' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 4/28/10, all rights reserved worldwide.

Shadows Over Madness

2010-04-24T10:01:00.003-05:00

This poem was inspired by a Writing Forward Poetry Prompt. The words were:

slippery
fantasy
casting
chameleon
lives

Rain falls
pounding ceaselessly
on the window
of my mind
the clouds casting
shadows over my madness.

Sanity is slippery
evades me at times
fantasy seems so much more real
than this chameleon existence
endured through too many lives.

Losing myself to the lunatic within
is easier than fighting
to remain a prisoner
in reality's harsh grip.

What is reality anyway?
A cruel mistress
merciless and brutal
in her dealings
impatient and unkind.

Instead I let myself fall
into the comforting grip
of delirious delusion
falling deeper and deeper
until there is no light
only clouded darkness
and never-ending rain
casting shadows over my madness.

'Shadows Over Madness' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 4/24/10, all rights reserved worldwide.

Love Lost

2010-04-16T12:56:00.003-05:00

Yes, it's a repeat, but hopefully it's an oldie but a goodie.

Splintered thoughts
left to molder in her mind
memories creeping and crawling
infesting her brain like
millions of tiny bugs
distractions unwelcome.

Votive offerings
punctuated by infidelity and
betrayal renders them useless
insincere; nothing more than empty words
and broken promises
tarnished with lies.

'Love Lost' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 2/25/08, all rights reserved worldwide.

Longing for Freedom

2010-04-09T08:50:00.003-05:00

'Ello all. Though it is Friday, I'm posting my contribution to 3 Word Wednesday today. The words this week are:

deviate
identify
saturate

Longing for Freedom

Deviate from conformity
every chance there is
identify with your true self
regardless of propriety's rule
permeating society with its
harsh judgments and
the cold steel shackles of
prosaic conventions.
Saturate yourself with
a flamboyant flair
give into your most
untamed desires
follow your bliss
wherever it may lead you
live your life
without apology and
you will know
true freedom.

'Longing for Freedom' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 4/7/10, all rights reserved worldwide.

Duplicity

2010-04-03T15:59:00.003-05:00

It's not my best work, but at least I'm writing again. This is for 3WW, the words being

caustic
hunch
sacrifice

Her caustic words
seared his soul
forced him to hunch over
the pain was real
inflicted righteously and
without care
to torment or torture.
It was no noble sacrifice
that caused him to lose it all
no distinguished deed
it was merely his hunger
for what he should not have
that led him down
his chosen path
into a world of
duplicity and betrayal.
The resulting aftermath was one
he never could have imagined.

'Duplicity' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 4/3/10, all rights reserved worldwide.

Mortality

2010-03-28T09:25:00.000-05:00

Life passes by
in a blink of time
memories rise and
fade, decaying.

Decades unfold
wither and die
like exotic flowers
parched by summer's
cruel and
unrelenting sun.

Dismembered voices
of remembrances long forgotten
haunt endless nights
alone in an empty house.

Watching life pass
on fast forward
time's flowing skirts
enveloping me
wrinkling me with age, now

a dry husk of
the girl I once was
yet no one is immune
to the kiss of
mortality.

Sunshine

2010-01-12T13:21:00.002-06:00

I'm still alive. Life has been dark and foul with some sunshine thrown in here and there. Won't bore you with the details. Here's a repeat of something I wrote long ago.

Committed to her own destruction
she is hazardous to her health.
Mutilated dandelions litter the grass
around her, she had attacked them
with much furor and glee, rubbing their color out
to stain her skin yellow so she could be sunshine.
Insanity mirrored in her eyes, green with flecks of brown,
eternal famine of the soul, a place of darkness
where the sun never shines; a barren wasteland of lost hope
where she lives out her days, rubbing dandelions on her flesh
and pretending to be sunshine.

'Sunshine' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 4/30/08, all rights reserved worldwide.

Nightime Ecstacy

2009-12-23T09:04:00.002-06:00

Once again it's been ages since I've posted anything. Still not writing much. I've only written a couple poems in as many months. Here is one of them.

Darkness permeates me
caresses my fevered flesh
fondly; night has fallen
devoured the day
I exult in the ecstasy
of the late night gloom
penetrating me.
Full Moon shines
brilliant in Her luminescence
She infuses me with light and
shudders of elation
pervade me to my core.
Snow falls outside the window
burying the death and decay
with shimmering flakes
of purest sparkling white
that muffle all sound.
It's as if I'm the only person in the world
to witness the beauty of this night.

'Nighttime Ecstasy' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 11/28/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

An Award! Yay!

2009-11-28T10:00:00.004-06:00

I don't have any new poems to post today, but I do have an award that I was given by Herrad. Thanks!! I have to pass it along to a few people but haven't decided which bloggers will receive it yet. I have a few in mind, but nothing definite. I'll be back to pass it out another day.

Thanks again Herrad!

Killing Me Slowly

2009-11-26T10:57:00.003-06:00

Errant words
evade me, flitter
through my mind
teasing, always evading
my reaching
fingers.
Hankering for
inspiration
longing for the words
to arrange themselves
properly
line by line
on the paper
instead of this mess
in my brain
words flying about
here and there
but never landing
anywhere.
Murky thoughts
lost in a dream
shrouded by fear
and frustration
without words
to complete me
will I just fade away?
Emptiness breeds agony
the pain is extraordinary
violent in its determination
to destroy me
by withholding
the one thing
that brings life
to my shattered soul.

'Killing Me Slowly' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 11/23/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Winter Landscape

2009-11-24T10:34:00.004-06:00

Well, I conquered the block enough to write this poem. I'm not happy with it and may revise it, but it's what I have for now. I wrote it using the prompt from Carry on Tuesday. The lines were a poem from John Keats' 'Ode to a Nightingale:'

'My heart aches, and a drousy numbness pains my senses.'

Winter Landscape

My heart aches and
a drousy numbness
pains my senses
I am listless and worn
despairing in the dark.
Outside a winter storm rages
snow falling fiercely
wind whipping fat flakes
into a frenzy of violence.
Bloated clouds obscure the starry sky
blending with the landscape
a monochrome monotony
melancholy in its conformity.
Frigid cold slithers in
the draft causes a shiver
pulling my blankets tighter around me
I settle into the rocking chair
creaking back and forth
another sleepless night spent
alone with Nature's cold fury.

'Winter Landscape' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 11/24/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Longing for the Words to Come

2009-11-22T04:18:00.002-06:00

Other than an occasional lame poem I've had writer's block for a very long time now, what seems like forever. It's killing me very slowly and painfully.

I wrote this way back in 2004 and since it describes perfectly what I'm feeling I'm posting it again.

I desperately need to write, I long for the peace that it brings to my frantic soul. I sit at the computer, staring into the blank document that mocks me for my inadequacy. No brilliant ideas, no eloquent words flow from the keys as I type and I am frustrated. My soul is blocked, overcome by negative energy and fears I can not contain. My spirit is tired and weary of the fight, of the daily struggle to survive. There is so much I need to put onto this page but my mind is a barren wasteland numbed by the tediousness of daily strife. Each day has ceased to be its own entity and now all flow together into a tapestry of despair that can not seem to be overcome. My soul is drowning in angst, slowly suffocating under the weight of responsibilities I am powerless to fulfill. The days grow ever bleaker and the road in front of me is shrouded in perpetual blackness. If I only had one hint, one hope to cling to as I battle the darkness, but nothing seems certain anymore. Each attempt to claw my way out of this desolate pit, every accomplishment seems pointless for with each hard won victory there are a thousand devastating losses. I feel lost, alone, and in my despair I wish I could find the words to describe it.

'Writer's Block,' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 2004, all rights reserved worldwide.

I Need

2009-11-21T10:35:00.003-06:00

Oh the writer's block has been crippling, plunging me into despair. I finally managed to write this poem today using my prompt at Jane's Inspirations and it felt so good to write again. I really hate writer's block!

Sorry I haven't been very good about answering comments and reading other blogs lately. I've had so much happening and I can only do so much before I get all frazzled and crazy. I've also neglected Jane's Inspirations but there is a new prompt up today, which, as I said, I used to write this poem.

The words for the prompt were:

plague
constructed
wasteland
lightning

I Need

Longing
yearning
for something
undefined
a touch
perhaps
silken caresses
to shoot lightning
through this body
that has grown
so cold.

Or perhaps
compassion
an affirmation
of the pain and misery
that plagues
each and every
day.

Maybe I long for
a stirring
in this heart
that has hardened
over time
until nothing
penetrates
this fortress
I've constructed
around it.

I need something
to ease this misery
this wretched
emptiness
something to warm
this frozen
wasteland
that has become
me.

'I Need' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 11/21/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Nightmares of Insanity

2009-11-01T18:33:00.003-06:00

I wrote this pom for 3WW, the words for that being:

incubate
nightmare
vanity

and also for my Jane's Inspirations Sublime Saturday prompt, the words for that being:

thrilling
chilling
lurking
horrors

Incubating fears, thrilling
permeating surreal dreams
vivid, terrifying
haunting her each night
as soon as lids close
over blue eyes pinched
with horror in expectation
of nightmares lurking in the dark
fighting them is surely vanity
as pointless and futile
as trying to capture smoke
between grasping fingers.

Tortured each night in slumber
sleep no longer blessed escape
but now a twisted caricature
of what should never be beheld
images of fury, running red
with blood; wicked acts
committed sadistically
with cruelty unheard-of
screams penetrate the night
aching shrieks of agonizing pain
chilling in its ferocity
pleading whispers begging
for mercy; she hears them so clearly
cannot escape the horrors
awakens to find
the blood-stained hands
are her own.

'Nightmares of Insanity' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 11/1/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Autumn Frenzy

2009-10-25T12:01:00.004-05:00

This is my poem for my prompt site Jane's Inspirations. The prompt for Sublime Saturday this week are these words:

Petulant
Chilling
Tenacity
Inexorable

Petulant wind howls
chilling in its tenacity
thrashing through trees
whipping leaves
into violent whirlwinds
that swirl and twirl
gleefully dancing
in the ferocity of the night.
Thunder rumbles and explodes
inexorably reverberating
through my bones.
CRACK! Lightning strikes
callously, no regard
for the flames that erupt.
The storm rages on
as all cower in its wake
in awe of the ferocity
of Nature's magnificent fury.

'Autumn Frenzy' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 10/25/08, all rights reserved worldwide.

Delicious Solitude

2009-10-18T09:01:00.002-05:00

This poem was written for my prompt @ Jane's Inspirations, which is Solitude. If you want to participate, head on over there after you've written your post and leave your link in the comments section.

Delicious Solitude

Lingering moments of quiescence
envelope me lovingly
soothe my soul
shattered and raw.
Peace and silence caress me
rapturously
with a lover's touch
wistful in its ardent longing.
The house is hushed and
still, even the dust has settled
contentedly languishing
in the tranquility.
Sleeping cats lie
complacent and satisfied
tails swishing every so often
in the midst of a dream.
Settled comfortably on the couch
swaddled in a blanket
book in hand, to venture into fabled lands
I sip apple cinnamon tea and
savor the delicious solitude
of precious moments spent alone.

'Delicious Solitude' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger, 10/17/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

New Prompt Up

2009-10-16T14:32:00.001-05:00

Just wanted to let you know that I have a new prompt up over @ Jane's Inspirations. If you're looking for some inspiration, go check it out!

Hiding Away

2009-10-14T10:05:00.005-05:00

This poem was written for 3WW. I'm not sure what's going on with me lately but I've barely been writing and when I do write it just feels off. But, I keep at it hoping that the inspiration will return.

Anyway the words this week were:

frustrate
indecent
understand

Hiding Away

Frustrated
I retreat
into myself
withdraw into my shell-
a turtle's natural survival
tactic-I curl in upon myself
not wishing for death
which brings rebirth
but instead hoping
to disappear
forever.

Can you understand
the indecent treatment
inflicted upon one
already ravaged and raw
from pain and
despair?

Can you comprehend
the judgments and
condemnations
flying through the air
like spears that pierce
straight through
to my deepest core
leaving me bloody and
defeated?

I think not.

Unreasonable expectations
outrageous denials
justifications and
ignorant demands
erode me and consume me
until there is so little left
just bits and pieces
here and there
that flutter away
on the breeze
leaving nothing
but the shell
in which I used
to hide.

'Hiding Away' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 10/14/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Paper Tears

2009-10-05T07:07:00.003-05:00

Picture reflected
in my mind
portrait of agony
that never subsides.
A future abandoned
parchment portrayal
trapped in its frame
crying paper tears
that never stop falling
as time and distance
decay its likeness.

Dreams once shared
fantasies intertwined
with memories
of all that once was
elusive and unreal
fading away, dissipating
into the mists of time.
All that is left
of what we once had
is this withering portrayal
perpetually crying
its paper tears.

'Paper Tears' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 4/24/08, all rights reserved worldwide.

Wolves at Midnight

2009-09-28T08:27:00.008-05:00

I'm posting this poem for the Monday Poetry Train Revisited and for my own prompt site, Jane's Inspirations. The prompt this week is Soul Stirring. Listening to the sound of wolves howl stirs my soul. I love wolves. The wolf is my spirit animal and I wrote this poem in honor of those beautiful animals and my own longing to be free and run with the wolves.

Cacophony of howls
yips and barks
pierce the cool dark.
A chorus to
mysterious moon
full and bright as
shadows skulk and
stalk the night.
Something primal
awakens within
the wind stirs, teasing
the scent of earth
pungent and rich.
Primordial yearning
overtakes me
a longing for freedom
a need for
blessed release
an urgent desire
to let loose my soul
and howl
at the moon.

Untitled

2009-09-24T12:59:00.002-05:00

This very short, untitled piece was written for 3WW.

eclipse
languish
velocity

Eclipsed by your beauty
I languish in your shadow
content to be propelled
by the velocity of your love.

'Untitled' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 9/24/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Hungry

2009-09-21T10:09:00.002-05:00

This poem was written for the Sunday Scribblings prompt, Hungry.

Empty, devoid of creativity
my Muses have abandoned me
leaving a great sucking void
that robs me of vitality.
Frantically digging around inside
searching for something
anything poetic, a flair of brilliance
or even something mundane.

Yearning for the words to flow
like water, fluid and graceful
releasing the pain and
agitation inside. But they are fixed
frozen somewhere in my mind.

Hungry for inspiration
embittered by its lack
longing to create, to weave
the words together
vivid strokes upon parchment
cleansing my soul and
releasing the demons inside.

'Hungry' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 9/20/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Licorice Legs

2009-09-20T06:50:00.004-05:00

Just to let you know, the new prompt for Sublime Saturday is up over at Jane's Inspirations. It's a day late, sorry about that. I'm still getting into the swing of things over there. So, if you need some inspiration, check it out!

This is a poem that I wrote a long time ago. It started out as a prose poem and I revised it so that it's an actual poem now. I'm posting it for the Monday Poetry Train Revisited. Yes, I'm a day early, but that balances out my being late with the prompt at Jane's Inspirations, don't you think?

Licorice Legs

Frustrated
the woes and cares of life
slowly eroding my soul
like the ocean washes away
the sands of the beach.

So far to walk
but my legs are licorice whips
that bend and sway.
I fall into nothing and never stop.
Falling, falling, always falling
the hand of god
or is it the devil
choking, strangling
those chill fingers mostly bone.

Running, running, still running
but I can't get away
those legs of licorice again.
Useless.
Don't support nothin'
especially not this tired woman
back bent from years of life
chipping, chipping, chipping away at her spirit.

Flat, empty, one dimensional
a portrait on the wall
a future that will never be
trapped in its frame
as time decays the paper flesh.

Tried, tried
gone and tried I did
but no one's home
the sound of my knuckles rapping
echoes through a house long abandoned
even the ghosts gave up and went away.

Away, away, so far away
from everyone I once loved
just more ghosts rattling their chains
in the past I can't outrun.

Trying, trying, trying to run
but these licorice legs
just won't support me
no more.

'Licorice Legs' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 2004, all rights reserved worldwide.

Apathetic

2009-09-16T09:01:00.004-05:00

I have a bad case of the blues, blahs and blechs today. So, this is the poem I wrote to reflect that. I hope it's not as flat as I feel. But then, maybe that's the point.

Apathetic
flat, flavorless
insipid, indifferent
to reality
to fantasy
to life and
even death.

Pointless
prosaic existence
lackluster lifetime
unending.

Numb
dazed, detached
listless, lethargic
eternal wearisome
wretchedness.

Retreat
into a hole
under a rock
darkness embraces
soothes my
shattered soul.

'Apathetic' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 9/16/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Thirst

2009-09-13T07:51:00.005-05:00

This poem was written for One Single Impression's prompt Thirst and

for Weekend Wordsmith's prompt Pallid.

Before I post the poem, I want to remind people to head over to my other blog, Jane's Inspirations to participate in the prompt I posted on Friday for Sublime Saturday!

Thirst

Pallid shadows drift
through dusty days
dry and arid, parched
devoid of moisture
and sustenance.

Thirsting for...something
a touch, a taste of life
a swallow from cool
nourishing springs
something to fill the void
raging within, devouring
from the inside.

Self-induced
solitary confinement
safe yet constricting
is cruel in its merciless
tyranny.

'Thirst' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 9/13/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Jane's Inspirations Up and Running Again

2009-09-11T08:04:00.002-05:00

Just wanted to let you know I've started weekly prompts at Jane's Inspirations again. I will be posting them on Fridays or early Saturday morning and they will be called Sublime Saturdays.

Come on over and check out this week's Sublime Saturdays!

Happy Writing!

Jane

Head Over Heels

2009-09-09T14:25:00.002-05:00

This silly little poem is for today's 3WW, the words being:

disarm
engage
mayhem

I feel like I've been in a great hurry for the last few days, and as such, this poem was written very quickly so it might not be much of a poem. But, I'm ok with that. Everyone has an off day every now and again.

He disarmed me
with his boyish charms.
A wink of an eye and he
knocked me out of my socks
brought madness and mayhem
to my soul
stirred the butterflies
in my heart.

Engage in shameless flirting
as I melt into a puddle
of hopeless lust.
I cannot resist
I'm a sucker for
tattoos, long black hair
penetrating eyes so blue
he has an artist's fingers
woo boy I'm in love!!

'Head Over Heels' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 9/9/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Harvest Moon

2009-09-07T08:52:00.003-05:00

Friday night was a Full Moon, the September Harvest Moon. Though I usually try to head outside once the moon has risen and see the Full Moon, I was too tired on Friday and went to bed early. However, on Saturday I was out and about around the time it got dark and saw the Harvest Moon glowing orange in all her splendor and glory. It was breathtaking. This poem is a result of that.

This poem rhymes in some places but that was accidental, it just came out that way. I might try to edit it to see if I can make the rhyming more consistent but haven't decided yet.

Also, I'm posting this for the Monday Poetry Train Revisited. Head on over there if you want to add your poem or read some great poetry!

Harvest Moon

Darkness has conquered the day
night has enveloped the land
sweeping through the world
with a swift and graceful hand.

Rising Moon emerges in all Her glory
a reverent silence falls
among adoring creatures of the night
even the crickets cease their song.

Full and bright, no silvery light
not this night, Mother Moon
is glowing orange tonight.
A deep and vibrant hue
warm and beauteous to behold
my heart leaps with joyful inspiration.

The Harvest Moon elegantly hovers
just above the horizon and
I fall to my knees in wonder
in awe of her joyful splendor.
As I gaze upon her, grateful tears
fill my eyes and I bow my head
bursting with earnest prayer.

'Harvest Moon' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 9/5/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Untangling the Past

2009-09-05T12:54:00.004-05:00

This is a repeat as I haven't written anything new this week. My mind has been racing way too fast to settle down and focus on anything and we've been busy with the last minute flurry of preparing for the girls to start school on Tuesday. So, I'm posting this.

Hands wrinkled, gnarled and weak
grasp letters, yellowed with age
stale and musty smelling
softly crinkling between her fingers.
Memories coveted yet unwanted
trespass 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.

The Shadow Strikes

2009-08-31T16:11:00.006-05:00

Finally I feel like I'm fully emerging from my depression. I feel elated, euphoric and utterly invincible... which leads me to believe that I'm not just coming out of depression but heading for a manic episode. I'm sleeping well enough but I'm way, way too euphoric and my molecules feel like they are all vibrating at 50 times their normal speed, like I'm going to explode into a bright light of pure energy (too bad I'm in too much pain to do anything with that energy), which is never a good sign. So, I got to thinking about the cycles of Bipolar Disorder, especially the depression, which is what I was dealing with for the last 6 months (I like the mania so much better-at least till I crash). This poem is a result of that.

It was also written using the One Single Impression prompt: Blue

A shadow lurking
a serpent coiled
waiting to strike.
Poison flowing
through blue veins
of ice, frozen
hardened
by pain, strife
betrayal and
eternal loss.

Gripping
the edges of lucidity
fingers shaking
desperately aching
to hold on to
something, to
anything that will
ease this desolation.

What happened
to the sun and
the vibrant resplendence
that caressed me and
energized me
once upon a time?
Why have the shadows
returned? Punishment
for wrongs committed?
Wounds that never healed
just ignored or
buried deep within? Or
is it this stinking disease
that clutches me
in its wretched claws?

Heart racing
breath coming
in ragged gasps
falling, falling
falling into
darkness and agony
yet again. Spiraling
into despair and
hopeless destitution.
Lost in myriad
nightmares
haunting tales
of woe and misery
taunting me endlessly.

Horrors I can't fight
or escape
lost in this disease
lost in this anguish
lost in myself
until the sun
shines again and
the cycle begins
anew.

'The Shadow Strikes' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 8/31/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Nature's Blessing

2009-08-29T12:23:00.007-05:00

If you're looking for the awards, go here. Thanks!

I can't remember the last time I posted writing 2 days in a row, but here I am again. I wanted to get this up today before they post a new prompt over at One Single Impression. Their prompt for this past week was Allow.

I combined that with the Blog Your Blessings Sunday (which I'm posting a day early), the prompt for tomorrow being Weather. Update: Oops, I'm not early, I'm late. The prompt for today is 'Those who took a stand.' Just kidding. I'm just off this weekend!

This poem is also written for Sunday Scribblings, the prompt there being Poetry.

This is my first time participating in BYB Sunday and I was delighted to find that the prompt was weather. I find rain to be an incredible blessing, it nourishes all life physically and spiritually if we allow it to. I love stormy days (not severe storms though, those scare the crap out of me) when I can listen to the rain fall and the thunder rumble, it soothes my soul like nothing else. I also love to be outside in the rain. The last time it rained here my daughter and I ran outside and we just let it fall on us. It was exhilarating. So, this is a poem I wrote in gratitude for the rain.

Standing in the night
bare feet on sodden grass
under somber clouds
no Moon in sight.
Arms joyously lifted
to ebony sky
periodically brightened
by incandescent
flashes of light.
I allow the rain
to pour over my body
in torrents of ecstasy.
Cold, dripping and wet
in my nightgown, I am
exhilarated, purified, gratified.
Thunder cracks and rumbles,
the wind whips wet hair,
it sticks to my face,
upturned, eyes closed
lost in elated rapture,
Nature and I are intertwined.

'Nature's Blessing' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 8/29/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Award Time & Friday 5!

2009-08-28T11:56:00.006-05:00

Update: I removed the right click copyright protection so you should be able to click and copy on the pic now. I hated that thing anyway. I'll just have to hunt down and kill anyone who steals my work. Though, they could have copied it down with pen and paper or typed it up anyway if they were really determined to steal my writing.

It is Friday! And I have no kids all weekend! Again! Woo-hoo!! Well, almost no kids. I have like 1/4 a kid right now. One is off at the cabin, the other is working all weekend and when she's not working she'll be sleeping or off with friends so she won't be around much. She's 17, they don't like hanging out at home at that age. I know I never did. So, it's pretty much the same as being home alone.

I have a poem for the Poefusion Friday 5, but first an award to hand out.

I received an award from Patricia @ Communication Exchange (and Subjective Soup) as well as from Janet @ Dolly's Daily Diary (and Stigma No More-A great mental health blog, btw). The award is the Loyal Friend and Visitor Award! Thanks Janet and Patricia!

Here are the rules:

1. Copy the loyal picture above
2. Pass it to you think who is/are deserving.
3. Leave a message to them
4. Pass as many as you want.
5. Message back or leave a comment to the owner.

In handing out this award I drew from a couple sources, readers who leave comments and those who drop on Entrecard. I tried to choose both newer and long time readers. Keep in mind that I had so very many choices and I only had time to pick so many, so if I miss you this time, I'll try to catch you another time. Also, if you don't do awards, don't feel like you have to pass it on, just accept it in the spirit it is offered.

Kat @ Poetikat's Invisible Keepsakes and Poetikat's Blasts from the Past
Paisley @ Just Paisley and Why Paisley???
Robin @ Robin's Nest
Kelly C. @ The Novelist's Notebook
ThomG @ Surface Tension
Joanne @ Poetic Shutterbug

Thank you all who visit my blog, not only those I've given this award to, but everyone who reads. If it weren't for you I'd just be talkin' to myself here and my Leo ego might then compel me to do something drastic. Just kidding.

Anyhoo...

So, today is the Friday 5. I love this prompt and it's the first time I've participated in a while due to the crazy insaneness of life. The words this week are:

mete
ladybug
felicitate
swizzle stick
bubbles

I also posted it for the Monday Poetry Train Revisited.

And here is my poem, which I almost forgot to name, oops....

Ok, here it is, title and all:

Wedding Night Blues

Wedding bells still
clanged in her ears,
an abrasive sound,
tarnished and caustic.
No rice though cuz the birds
will explode.
Bubbles instead,
they floated lazily; corpulent
spheres of luminous color
bloated with happiness, felicitations
and merriment.
She sat at the bar
in her mother's ivory dress
viciously stirring
her rum and coke
with a purple swizzle stick.

More bubbles,
effervescent, they fizzle
then sputter, once again
silent amid the noise
of drunken laughter and
the band screeching and
catterwauling onstage.
A ladybug had flown in
when someone stepped outside
for a smoke. It landed
on the bar.

SLAP!
She slammed her hand
on the bar and
smashed it in her rage,
wiping the blood and gore
on a napkin.

She'd just found out
the lies, the vows shattered
before they were uttered.
The secretary, how trite,
couldn't have someone told her
before today?
If one more person commented
on how happy she must be
she'd squash them
like that damn ladybug.
Head hanging, her tear-filled eyes
fell upon the napkin, smeared
with body parts and
bright red death, the same color
as her bridesmaid's dresses.

In that moment a plan
erupted in her mind
with the force of a Tsunami.
Mind swirling she saw the scene
clearly, as though it
had already happened.
Blood and gore
punishment meted out
merciless and cruel,
torment and torture
slow and deliberate,
suffering unrivaled
yet deserved. It will be
the happiest night of her life.

'Wedding Night Blues' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 8/28/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Poisoned Arrows

2009-08-26T07:09:00.003-05:00

Yes, it is time for 3WW again. After you finish this post, please scroll down to the previous post and read that too, it's very important. Or click here, whichever. And I'll hopefully be back tomorrow to pass on my award.

The words for 3WW this week were

fracture
noise
vanish

I actually wrote this poem in like 5 minutes, so it might end up just being a first draft. But, this is what I have for now.

Poisoned Arrows

Fractured feelings
broken and bloody,
a mangled pulp,
the weeping remnants
of my self esteem.

Thoughts noisy
blaring, booming and
racing, piercing my skull
with fragments
of frozen metal,
melting me into
a puddle
of shame and disgrace.

Vanishing pride,
confidence shattered
by careless, calculating,
cruel words tossed
casually into the air
like wicked arrows
tipped with poison.

'Poisoned Arrows' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 8/26/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

IMPORTANT: Please Read

2009-08-26T05:58:00.003-05:00

I was planning to pass on awards today, but need to post about something else. Something very tragic. A woman I know in the blogosphere named Jesz Jaydnn has had her daughter kidnapped by her ex husband and is desperately searching for her. If you have any info or can spread the word, please do. This poor woman is very understandably distraught and could use help. Here is a picture of the girl and excerpt from her site:
"Her name is Chyenne. We call her Chy, Chiny, Chine Chine, SunChiny. She is 9 years old, 3 and a half feet tall, weighs 50 lbs. She has 2 sisters and a brother waiting for her at home. And a mother and step-father half out of their minds with worry. We’ve had no contact with her since Saturday, August 22nd, have no idea how she is or what’s going on."

Her last known location was Florence, CO but they have no idea where she is now. If you have any info or advice that you think could help Jesz, Chy and her family please leave a comment on Chy's site.

I cannot imagine the pain and terror they are feeling right now. Please keep them in your thoughts and prayers.

Thank you,

Jane

A New Award!

2009-08-25T12:31:00.006-05:00

I received an award from Patricia @ Communication Exchange (and Subjective Soup) and Janet @ Dolly's Daily Diary! It's the Loyal Friend and Visitor Award. If you haven't checked out their blogs yet, why don't you stop on by? They are fantastic!

Now I need to pass it on to some people, but I have to think about that for a minute cuz there are so many people I'd love to give it to. Tune in sometime within the next few days (sorry, can't be more specific than that, the kids will be hogging the computer until they start school in 2 weeks) to see whom (who?) I choose!

Thanks again Patricia and Janet!

Hugs,

Jane

Wicked Phantasms

2009-08-23T09:17:00.002-05:00

I originally started this earlier this month with words from 3WW's July 29 prompt. When I went to finish it today I decided to add this weeks words to it as well.

July 29 words:

darkness, patronize, weaken

August 19 words:

decay, graceful, riot

I had a hard time fitting patronize in this piece, and I'm not sure if I like how I used it, but there it is.

Wicked Phantasms

Darkness within and without
gnaws at decaying flesh,
delights in feasting
on warm, viscous blood,
ravaging my life-force.

Fear, shrill and forceful
patronizes me, weakens me,
thrusts me into riotous turmoil;
nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

Lost in myriad nightmares, demented
hallucinations of terror and destruction.
Voracious phantasms sucking my soul.
opaque, vacant eyes that pull me within,

diaphanous forms with no substance.
Mirror images of horror and fright
pursue me mercilessly
haunting me, devouring me
with wicked teeth and serrated claws
ripping and tearing flesh and bone.

Drifting alone, transparent and forsaken
a wisp of a ghost wafting gracefully
on the frigid, biting wind
one with the darkness within and without.

'Wicked Phantasms' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 8/18/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Evening Approaches

2009-08-13T09:58:00.002-05:00

Hello all, I hope that everyone in cyberspace is doing well. It has been another busy couple of weeks and I'm feeling rather frazzled, to say the least. I've had no time to write or post lately, but today I have a few moments so I wanted to post this poem I wrote in July. It was inspired by a Read Write Poem prompt offered around July 10. I didn't use all the words offered, but I did use these:

loiter, lost, flaming, sanguine, sky

Flaming arrows of pink and purple
streak across sanguine sky.
Gossamer clouds loiter aimlessly
lost in their amorphous musings.
Crows glide upon the breezy drafts
of the balmy south wind,
circling, searching for a feast.
Caw, caw, caws echo
into the dusky evening
as I sit, my chair perched
upon soft sand
at the edge of a lake of glass.

'Evening Approaches' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 7/10/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Dawn Awakening

2009-07-30T21:04:00.002-05:00

I've been busy, busy, busy this last couple weeks with appointments and family in town so I haven't been at the computer much. Not only have I not posted much but I haven't been reading blogs much either, but things should calm down next week so I should be back to reading more then. Oh, and my daughter has a blog where she posts her writing and thoughts, so she would like me to shamelessly plug Lil Miss Lulu.

So, I have been writing some and I have 4 or 5 new poems to post, mostly inspired by writing prompt sites from the month of July. This poem is not one of those though. I'll be posting those later.

Night's sleepy shadows frolic
their wistful finale before dawn
awakens. Drops of dew caress my feet,
refreshing and cool between my toes.
Stars are off to slumber,
eastern sky awakens, a thin strip of hope
streaking the breathless horizon.
Cacophony of music erupts,
feathered friends greeting the sun,
joyous in their eager song.

'Dawn Awakening' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 7/12/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

A Southern Gentleman

2009-07-24T10:39:00.002-05:00

This is a poem about a specific Southern Gentleman that I dated for 4 years. It was a disastrous, addictive relationship (like most of mine were, is it any wonder I don't date anymore?) and I was devastated when he left, promising to come back someday. I never saw him again. It took me a long time to get over him but I am happy to say that not only am I totally over him, I am soooooo very glad it ended cuz he was toxic to me and had we stayed together it would have been nothing but years and years of misery. Looking back on it from this perspective I was able to write this piece about just how dark and poisonous his love was.

I fell into you and
you devoured me whole,
cannibalized my soul,
left me torn apart, forsaken,
mutilated by your savage love.
I lost myself in your darkness
the black hole of your bitter heart
I allowed you to define me
until you justified my existence; you
recreated me as though
you were my god,
built me according to
your selfish specifications
then you destroyed me,
raped my soul and
abandoned me, reducing me
to a mere casualty of your love.

'A Southern Gentleman' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 7/12/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Darkness Sublime

2009-07-18T21:03:00.005-05:00

This is my 3WW creation this week. I'm also posting it for Totally Optional Prompts. I'm not using their prompt ideas, but then, as they say, it is Totally Optional! I'm a bit late with posting this, I wrote it earlier this week but haven't had a chance to post it as we've had a busy week with my new nephew being born and all. He's such a cutie!! Anyway, the words this week are:

drip, hypnotic, sulk

Sulking shadows solemnly
saunter across cracked plaster,
ruthless in their scrutiny.
The fickle flutter of candlelight
consoles me, teasing the shadows
as the golden light capers
across bleached walls.
Thoughts drip into my mind
hypnotic and mocking
plaguing me with remembrances past.
Silence permeates the stagnant air
strangely welcoming in its solitude.

Your Blog is F-ing Fabulous!!

2009-07-17T11:05:00.006-05:00

Kat, over at Poetikat's Invisible Keepsakes and Poetikat's Blasts from the Past has gifted me with an award! I am so very flattered to have received it. Thanks for thinking of me Kat! It is the Your Blog is F-ing Fabulous award. I have to list 5 obsessions and then hand it out to other people. So, here we go…

My 5 obsessions….

Reading~ I love books, so much so that I belong to not one but 2 book sharing web sites, Shelfari and Goodreads. Ever since I was very young I've had a love affair with books, it's like savoring a fine wine. I love to read a lot of different kinds of books from fiction (horror, fantasy, feminist, poetry, international writers) to nonfiction (spirituality, mythology, Buddhism, Pagan, science-especially Quantum Physics, psychology, feminist, Native American mythology, books on writing). Then there's all the magazines I read, Scientific American, Tricyle: The Buddhist Review, Shambala Sun, SageWoman, Discover, Writer's Digest, The Writer etc. No wonder I always feel like there aren't enough hours in a day, I need 18 of them just to get through my books and magazines! Whenever I have a few extra bucks the first place I head to is the used bookstore. It's like heaven. It's also an addiction!

Music~ I adore music. There's something about the pulse of the beat and the energy that it creates that speaks to me on like a molecular level. Though I enjoy all kinds of music (alternative, rock, classical, international, etc.) my two favorites are heavy metal and opera. That may sound strange (and it probably is) but both these types of music have an urgent intensity that draws me to them. When I'm listening to my iPod I utterly lose myself in the music; it soothes me, releases me, and exhilarates me whether it's pounding drums, screeching guitars and screaming rock stars or violins, cellos, and an operatic serenade.

Vampires~ I love reading about vampires (except Ann Rice's books, her writing has never appealed to me, which probably makes me abnormal, but I'm ok with that) as well as watching tv and movies about them. Kim Harrison writes a great series about Rachel Morgan. I also have many of the books in Laurell K. Hamilton's Anita Blake Vampire Hunter series, but I have yet to read them. It looks like a good series though. Of course, some of my favorite shows are Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, and I'm even warming up to True Blood a bit even though I hated it when I first watched it (I mean, really, if I wanted to watch porn I'd buy one). Some vamp movies I like are the Underworld movies, Van Helsing, Bram Stoker's Dracula, The Lost Boys, Interview with a Vampire, Queen of the Damned (I do like the movies based on Ann Rice's books, just not the books).

Supernatural stuff~ This kinda ties into the vampire bit, but I love anything having to do with the supernatural in general; ghosts, spirits, fairies, magick (even though magick isn't really supernatural, it is treated as such by Hollywood) etc. The tv shows The X-Files and Charmed are favs of mine and I also really like Supernatural (though with Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles starring in it, how can I not?! I mean, they are two big bundles of exquisite deliciousness!).

Tattoos~ I'm not covered in them or anything. I have 2, one on my wrist:

and one on my back:

I love tattoos. Anytime I date a guy, if he has a tattoo or two (or more) that can be a big turn-on for me if he can pull it off (not all men can). Not only can tattoos be beautiful if they are done well, but they are a great way to express who you are. For instance, the reasons I chose my yin yang surrounded by flame was cuz: 1. I have always been a person that lives in either extreme, I have great difficulty finding balance in my life. The yin yang is to remind me that I need to remember to seek the Middle Path. 2. Astrologically speaking my Element is fire.

With my second tatto I originally wanted a celtic design, but for reasons I can't recall it transformed into the swirling pattern. The swirlies kind of remind me of spirals, which are a symbol of the Goddess.

I plan to get another tattoo, but I'm not sure what yet. I have a very unique, beautiful floral design I want to get around my left ankle (since my wrist tattoo is on my right wrist the ankle design will balance it out; it's all about balance). For some reason I can't upload this pic to my computer so I can't share it, which is a shame as it is very beautiful. If I don't have that ankle tattoo done I might try another one that reflects my spirituality like a symbol of some type. Or a tattoo of a wolf, which is my spirit animal, with a moon or pentacle maybe.

I know this is a long post, hang in there, we're almost done...

Blogging/Writing~ This is probably an obvious one and goes without saying, but I'm saying it anyway, well, typing it. Though I've had a couple periods in the last year or so that I've withdrawn from the blog world for a couple months at a time, I am obsessed with blogging. I love it. I mean, I'm a Leo and I love to talk about myself so of course I blog, it's the perfect way to share myself with the world (because we Leo's are utterly convinced that everyone is just dying to hear all about us)!! Even when I wasn't blogging those couple months I thought about it constantly. Every time something happens that is halfway (ok, a third of the way…or less) interesting my immediate thought is, how can I turn this into a blog post? I also love reading other blogs, I've met some really cool people that way.

Along with my personal blogging I enjoy posting my writing, as you can see. Writing is my outlet, my release, my bliss (even when it's frustrating as hell) and if I didn't have it as an outlet I'd probably have gone on a psycho shooting spree a long time ago, just like Michael Douglas in Falling Down! Not only do I write poetry and short stories but I have a novel somewhere I was working on that I've shelved for a while, and I'm researching breaking into freelancing. I'm in the middle of writing an article for SageWoman as well as researching what articles I could write for other magazines I enjoy. Though, I won't be writing for any of the science magazines I read, I may like to read about science and technology, but I don't always understand it well enough to write about it!

Now, I have to pass this award on to others. There are a lot of blogs I read that are F-ing Fabulous and it was hard to narrow them down to just a few, but these are the ones I chose:

On the Front Porch

Lola's Diner

So, to those I've passed it onto, pass it onto others (if you don't 'do' awards, that's fine, just accept it in the spirit it is given) and list 5 of your obsessions. Then, come back and leave me a comment so I can head over and check out your post!

The Journey

2009-07-14T10:25:00.002-05:00

I am very excited, Kat gifted me with an award, the Your Blog is F-ing Fabulous Award! Tomorrow or the next day I will be posting it and passing it along, but first I promised one of my daughters that I would post one of the poems she wrote here on my blog.

Both my girls are very creative and love writing, music and the arts. Very obviously they get that from me as their fathers don't have a creative bone in either of their bodies. I'm thrilled to have passed down my love of creative expression onto my children as it brings us all a lot of joy.

So, here is my daughter's poem:

The Journey

The end seems so far away
The journey to get there seems so hard
Through the struggles, the pain, and the loneliness
It seems so far.
To get to the end of the tunnel
To get to the light
The journey
So difficult
Everything you need to accomplish
It would be so easy to end the journey
When you fall you ask yourself, "Is it worth it? Can't I just give up?"
Then your guide comes
There but not really there
Helping but making decisions harder
At least they are the right decisions
You get up and continue the journey
No longer alone in life
You now have a guide, she opens your eyes and
You realize what has been there the whole time
Your family, your friends
Your accomplishments
Your mistakes
If you fall again your guide will be there
To help you get back to your feet again
Who is your guide?

Ritual of Devotion

2009-07-12T15:33:00.004-05:00

This poem was inspired by 3WW this past week. It's a poem loosely depicting a Pagan ritual, if you'd like to understand the poem better there is an explanation at the end. Don't worry, this hasn't become a Pagan writing blog, I'll still be writing about all kinds of things, and as I am still me, a lot of it is likely to be dark.

Oh, and the 3WW words this past week were:

gloom
kneel
transparent

Ritual of Devotion

Transparent Gloom
glistens in her hair
flowing down her back
shimmering straight and black.
Dark of Night embraces her
beckons her into His world.
Midnight ritual
under bountiful Moon.
Nature's gifts provide
rocks around, circle's set
east air's feather beckons
southward candle's flickering flame
shell echoes westward waters
pentacle holds north's quarter.
Before the altar she kneels
cool grass tickling her skin.
Smoking censor breathes
hyssop and honeysuckle smoke
lifting her spirit unto the sky
an offering of devotion
to Goddess and God
under the Blessing Moon.

'Ritual of Devotion' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 7/11/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

If you haven't noticed, I've been focusing on my (Pagan) spiritual side lately, which has done much to lift my mood, inspire and motivate me. This is a poem depicting an Esbat (full Moon) ritual, though it is abbreviated and incomplete. Usually words are spoken invoking the Goddess and God and cakes and ale (in my case juice) are consumed. If you have never participated in a ritual like this a lot of this poem won't make sense. I've referred to the casting of a sacred circle (it's kind of like our church) with a ring of stones and items are placed in each direction (East, South, etc.) at the edge of that circle. Each item corresponds to that direction (east is air/feather; south is fire/candle etc.). Not every Pagan casts a circle this way; it's just how I've chosen to depict it in this poem. Also, hyssop and honeysuckle are the herbs used for the Full Moon in July (each Esbat has it's own herbs) which is known as, among other things, the Blessing Moon. I explain this not to try to convert anyone, but in order for the reader to understand the poem better.

Moonshine (Revised)

2009-07-10T05:15:00.006-05:00

This is a poem that I wrote in February of '08. I opened it up today and rewrote a lot of it (I've been doing that with a lot of poems lately, it's like my time in the 'Underworld' did cause a transformation and I'm seeing everything with new eyes) so I'm posting the new version. Even before I became a Pagan 5 years ago I had felt an affinity for the Moon in all her phases, but particularly the full Moon. After I chose the Pagan path I was that much more touched by her beauty, influence and ability to inspire. Each full Moon is known as an Esbat and many Pagans/Witches/Wiccans meet when the Moon is full every month to perform a ritual and celebrate the Goddess.

Moonshine

Looking down upon me
from your throne
among incandescent stars,
surrounded by night you are
luminous and radiant,
your resplendent silver light
awakening me,
caressing me,
energizing me,
as I frolic
beneath your abundance.
You are alluring,
stunning and divine;
awe cascades within me,
like a pure mountain spring,
my soul exhilarated,
bewitched by your beauty sublime.
Your glowing beams
inspire me,
intrigue me and
fascinate me.
Even the oceans
are held in your sway,
your cosmic pull
commanding their waves.
I drink in your light,
absorbing it into my
every molecule;
you infuse me with
sacred power, energy and
transcendent love.
Spinning, twirling, and whirling
I lose myself
in the Spiral Dance
as you shine down
upon me,
watching over me,
gently, lovingly,
my magnificent Mother Moon.

'Moonshine (Revised)' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 7/10/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Hardened Hearts

2009-07-08T14:39:00.004-05:00

This poem was taken from 2 different prompt sites.

The first site is Sunday Scribblings and the prompt there is: Humanity

The 2nd site is One Single Impression and the prompt is: Stranger

Aching whispers pass by
ephemeral, wisps of wanting,
needing; echoes of fragile, worn lives
sucked into the vortex of ego
as though they never existed.
Humanity agonizes,
oceans of tears ignored,
suffering blocked by eyes sealed
against the misery and pain
that belongs to another.
Won't see, won't look
won't let it penetrate the narcissism;
it might mean responsibility
to strangers less fortunate.
Blindness comforts,
soothes the ego too busy and
preoccupied with possessions
status and power
to bother with the forsaken afflicted.

'Hardened Hearts' Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 7/7/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Fishing

2009-07-07T18:32:00.003-05:00

I wrote a poem today!!! And I wrote one yesterday (I'll be posting that one tomorrow)!! Of course, it wasn't all me, there are some good prompts out there this week. I am so happy to be writing again, and hopefully this time it will last cuz I'm just not myself if I'm not creating.

Anyway, the poem I'm publishing today was inspired by Simply Snickers. I might play with it a bit more, but for now, this is it. Oh, and the prompt words were:

line
look
lush

Fishing

He dropped his line,
dangled carelessly
on the hook before her,
lazy in its construction
rusty and over worn.

He tossed a look in her direction,
boredom glazed brown eyes
lurking behind lush black hair,
all his secrets locked inside
as he leaned his lean, lank body against the bar.

Maybe she was cynical
or just cautious; or maybe
the boredom plagued her too
leaving big, pock-marked scars
upon her weary soul.

'Fishing', Copyright Patricia Schoenberger 7/7/09, all rights reserved worldwide.

Thanks for the inspiration Linda! If you haven't checked out Simply Snickers yet, what are you waiting for?

Melody

2009-07-06T15:58:00.000-05:00

I haven't been writing or even at the 'puter lately, but I'm hoping and hoping that will change. I just haven't had it in me to delve deeply enough within for the words. I'm planning to check out some writing prompt sites though, maybe that will stir something up.

So, since I have nothing new, I'm posting a repeat in honor of summer. Though I usually can't stand summer cuz of the heat and extended hours of light, I do love the night when the sun sets and Night's creatures emerge from the darkness. This poem is in honor of that as well as the memories of many nights spent in front of the campfire at my 'rent's cabin while I was growing up.

Melodious whispers
Leaves on the trees rustle in the night
Fire pops and crackles,
The scent of wood smoke dances
On the breeze; permeates the air
Dark waters of the lake
Lap lazily against the shore
Stars shine down, bathing us
In their stunning, sparkling light
Harvest moon shimmers on the water
Lonely loon calls for a lost mate
Crickets chirp, frogs croak their watery tunes
A fish jumps, plops into the water
Mosquitoes buzz, slap them away
Darkness has fallen, vanquished the day
Night’s creatures have awoken
A cacophony of sound,
A melody as ancient as time itself.

'Melody' Copryright Patricia Schoenberger 6/28/08, all rights reserved worldwide.

Still Breathing

2009-05-04T14:56:00.000-05:00

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?

2009-03-23T10:31:00.004-05:00

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

2009-03-07T13:44:00.000-06:00

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

2009-02-17T10:44:00.000-06:00

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!

2009-02-12T11:56:00.000-06:00

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!!