Tuesday Morning Jots

Reading Bukowski's writings on cats first thing in the morning is probably not the sanest thing to do. So full  of the savagery and the beauty of life - the enigma that is the cat.
No worse than reading the Bible, I suppose.
The Bible is also full of savagery, and beauty.
All the truest observations about this life God made.  Man in all his cruelty, Nature in its absolute adherence to the laws set forth for it.
Perhaps that is the lesson.
Nature's laws are often brutal- kill or be killed- you are either Predator or Prey - Humans are SUPPOSED to be better, supposed to have mercy, because God has Mercy, and we are supposed to be made in God's image.
Isn't that the whole of the Bible right there? The call to humans to  live up to the truth of their creation, after all?


Just my random Tuesday morning before serious caffeine thoughts.  Your mileage may (and probably should) vary.

Rhyme
Fighting through a bit of malaise
These last few days
Emotionally feeling like shit
Not much of life seeming to fit
My friends are the same
Some too quiet, some too game
The few just right
Know my trouble at first sight.
My love just leaves me be with it
Having learned over the years that it
Isn't something he can fix
That unborn words are part of this mix
Frustration more than sadness
Is at the heart of this madness
And All will soon be well again
Once I can take up my pen.

(All written by C.K.Armistead February 9, 2016)

Just Playing With Words

Rain
CKArmistead
May 2015

It fell first in drops,
Then in streaks,
Then sheets,
Then torrents,
And then a continuous
Deluge,
As if someone were
Spraying the world
With a giant fire hose.
I wish it would stop,
For the ground is squishy,
The plants are looking sickly,
There are mosquitoes everywhere,
Though for years we prayed for rain,
It occurs to me that
There CAN be too much
Of a good thing.

Rambling Thoughts
June 2015

I may wish I still looked young
But I know I don't.
So I leave my photos alone.
I put that saggy neck and those crepe-y arms out there
For the world to see.
Soon, I'll let my hair go gray
And find out how that will be.
On the inside
I am still the geeky fangirl
I was in my teens.
Maybe a bit more mature,
But still silly sometimes.
The older I get
The more I learn
That what's on the outside
Isn't who I am,
Except for the sparkle in my eye,
The dimples in my smile,
Put there by the brightness
In my heart.
Part of me has always felt older than my years
I feel like the rest of me is finally catching up.
There are times I feel I've heard an ancient song
Playing down the years
That nobody around me hears.
Places in my heart that bagpipes speak to,
When I've never been to Scotland,
Visions of mountains and lochs
That my eyes have never seen.
Fiddle tunes and banjo pickings
That stir my heart and set my feet to tapping.
When I have spent little time
In those places that my family lived
In this country.
Transplanted to California,
When the family was all from the South,
And the Appalachians.
Still, mariachis and flamenco guitar
Make me happy
Because they are the sounds I heard often
In my environment in my youth.
As well as Gospel songs,
Motown music,
And playground clapping chants.
Life has been so rich, so full of laughter, music, and friends
I've had the love of a good man
For many years now
We've seen good times and bad,
Been separated by thousands of miles
But still close
In our hearts. 
He's taught me to trust myself
Taken me to live in a foreign land
Vexed me something awful,
Made me laugh,
And loved me even when I was being completely unlovable.
Wherever my mind rambles,
It always wanders back to him.
My knight in smelly flightsuit,
My loadmaster,
My Matthew.

Summer
June 2015

Sticky, mosquito laden air
Makes me glad I cut off my hair
Busy, child filled library days
Make me glad I keep in shape
But the sun is so very welcome
After all the rain
Calm weather
After all the storms of May
In Oklahoma,
We are always glad to see the end of May
Too many sad anniversary days
Come around in May.
June is usually hot and dry
And that  is a blessing this year
That we are thankful for.

Poetry In Progress

 A couple of things that have been running around in my head lately.  One actually made its way almost complete onto paper before I got here with it, the other had to be extracted on the spot, and I still may tinker with them both in the future. 

Seasonal Changes
By Carolyn Kay Armistead
September, 2014

Already the light
Is from a different angle,
Has a different character,
A different feel.

Already the sun is less intense
The breeze a bit cooler,
The shadows longer.

Some of the trees are
Already beginning to
Turn a bit gold
Only on the edges.
It hasn't been cold enough
Yet to change them much.

Only a few brave marigolds
Hang on and bloom,
And the mums are starting
To dominate.

This is the season of not-quite.
Not really hot enough to be Summer,
Not nippy enough yet to be Autumn,
Even though the calendar says it is.

I am SO ready for the shorter, cooler days,
The symphony the wind in dry leaves plays,
The rough bluster of the weather
And being able to wear a sweater.

Listening To Silence
By Carolyn Kay Armistead
September 2014

And silence
Is the loudest
Thing there is.
Blocking out hope
Enforcing barriers
Covering all
And nothing.

But sometimes
It is necessary
So we can hear
The quiet voice
And learn more
Before we make
A choice.

Rather than say
A word that may harm,
Silence is at least
More warm.
It leaves a comfort
That a cruel word
Removes
Like a scab torn off
Of a healing wound.

Yet silence can also
Fester
Letting miscommunication
Linger
Breeding sadness, anger,
Misunderstanding.

So. 
To let Silence grow,
Or to break it?
Much depends
Upon the reason
It is there.
Listen to the Silence.
It will tell you,
Perhaps,
What sort it is. 
Or your heart will.

Random Inspiration
C.K. Armistead
September, 2014

So much potential
So many words
And ways to use them
And yet
I sit. 
Nothing finds its way
Out of the circles in my head
And onto a page.
The sense of power
And mystery
I have always felt
When there seems to be
A verse, a story,
An Image
Just about to reveal itself,
Just almost
Within my grasp.
The trepidation
That reaching for it
Will scare it away
That the lovely thing
Will vanish
The minute my mind
Sees it clearly.
Such fear holds me captive
Most of the time.
It takes courage
To reach out with words,
To try to capture
The beautiful, fleeting image
Or the pitiful dark pain,
The vision many have seen
And described, and shared
That still must be experienced
Oneself
In order to complete itself
In order to join us all
In this soup of human experience.
We are so alone, really.
Closed up and singular
In our own minds,
In our own bodies.
Yet,
We dream the same dreams
Often have the same nightmares.
We need to share them
And learn from each other's
Experience.
Seeing that one CAN
Capture the vision,
Survive the darkness,
Wake to the beautiful light,
We NEED that.
But it is often so very
Difficult
To formulate
Our own piece
Of the puzzle
To share.
Fear stops me.
Holds me captive
Like a fly in amber.
Caught
Frozen
Incomplete.