Riveroflifelisajoy’s Weblog

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Archive for amateur poetry and prose writing

THE FORCE AND WILL OF CREATION!

  

 

UNIVERSE AND WEAVE IN HARMONY

UNIVERSE AND WEAVE IN HARMONY

Who am I you ask?

What are my abilities you wonder.

 

 

I have not come this far  by your

direction,  or by your power.

The higher authority that breathed

life into my frame,  who

very much ordained my name

decided…and so it was!

Perception is sometimes powered by

STEROTYPE!

Misconception is sometimes powered

by dislike!

Who am I you ask….

I am the force and the will of creation…

I am the power of the volcano’s eruption

molten lava rolling and burning a path through

everything!

A tornado in all of its thoughtless,  callous chaos….twirling

in beauty and destruction without apparent destination, or goals…

intent on devastation…yet in simplistic natural beauty powered by an unseen

machine and engine.

A hurricane large and moving in speeds of one hundred mile an hour winds, ripping trees from their root beds and tossing homes and cars like children’s toys…yet again powered by an unseen mechanical engine of such power as to draw all living and dead into its path.

So who am I you ask?

Incased in this flesh I am mortal,  a woman,  an individual with thoughts,  feelings and ideas.

Yet you perceive me weak,  you know….first impressions and all….

But oh,  do not be deceived….just as you are ….I see through to your very soul….

we are both

the force and will of creation!

Just as I have and you have the ability to be creative,  so do I ….just as you have the ability to be destructive so do I.

I chose life…

what do you choose?

Within me reigns the absolute power to choose—to be the FORCE AND WILL OF CREATION!

Where Have I been?

Journey Behind the Falls at Niagara ...

 

I have been on a journey…

My friend

I have not been lost

intentionally

but a journey of length

and depth  has

challenged my

very heart and soul

I have gathered need

and gathered sorrow

My journey leads me

down dark alleys

bright rooms,

painful thoughts

and haunting fears

Tears are worthless

here on my journey

But the tears still come

and roll down my cheeks

like snowballs gathering

size and speed

My nose and face feel clogged

from the emotions spent

on this journey

Come free me my friend

from this torment

But I do not cry for myself

I cry for another

My son, my dear son

What will be?

Sickness again claimed

him on June 24 after

his American History

Regents exam…of which he

did receive an 88!

The victory of his passing

is overshadowed by the

illness that gripped him in

its stealy hands

I wish for him joy,

health, and happines…

I pray for him health, health, and more health

So that has been my journey my friend

Seeking health and strength for

the child of my womb

The child I had prayed for 15 years ago

is in a battle for his life….

So my journey is not a lonely one

but a hard. brittle, prickly one

Where have I been?  Right here,

at home, at work, but journey is a battle of

the mind and strength of the

spirit.

JOurney is to walk a walk of faith,

and endurance…

So I have not called you,  written you,

but I know you are still there.

I will not go,

while I continue this journey,  whose

destination I yet do not know.

-fini-

Riveroflifelisajoy

credit of waterfalls image…from aol journey images

HORROR LITERATURE –SOUL STEALER BY …..***JAY JEWELZ***

CHAPTER I

*******my son jay jewelz is writing horror stories for the strong of heart….take a look…!!!! 

 

 

 

The Soul Stealer, a very innocent looking being maybe scary. It only comes out at night. It lures its victims in with sweet words and trickery. Then it waits until the opportune moment and then makes it move on its prey. It devours the flesh of its prey and inhales its soul.

 

Legend has it that he was once a young boy when infected. He lost his ball in the old graveyard south of his family’s house. He entered the graveyard and was pulled further in by the dead. Moonlight lit the ground and beings from the underworld came to life and captured the boy and were going to devour his flesh. His father came out with his shot gun and shot one of the beings and the blood of the dead entered the boy’s body. His skin turned pail and his eyes lost their sparkly blue color. His nails grew long and black. The boy became wild and an aura of evil enshrouded his body. He took a long glance into his father’s eyes and ran into the darkness.

 

Years passed and that young boy stole the souls of the clean and the filthy. Some say he has a mansion that attracts the blood thirsty crows.

 

to be continued…….

 

 

 

 

 

 

     

Lost Angel_HELPITSMEJAY

 

 

SAND GRAINS ON FLAT GROUND by Riveroflifelisajoy

 

The sun beats down

I can smell the sweat on 

my scalp and hair, the water trickles

down my back and I feel

like tearing my skin right off

Boils begin to fill with

clear fluid

as I look toward the

horizon my feet

tingle and burn

while I place one

foot in

front of the

other.  The back

of these cheap

sneakers is

rubbing against my

already

blistered ankles

but I must go toward

the tiny speck in the

distance.  It looks

like a bunch of trees and possibly

a resting place

So each step more painful

than the other.

I hope I find some of my

friends there

Sipping  Green Tea on

ice, and waving me

to continue to finsh my journey

home.

The grains of  sand on this

barren flat land are being

whipped up into dust and it

clouds my minds eye. 

I cannot look beyond the

obvious…yet the obvious is

too harsh to cope with.

“Come to us bid the tiny dots

in the distance.”  You just sit

right there and wait for me…

I keep repeating this to myself

as my feet start to bleed.

My big toe feels like a splinter is stuck

deep inside.

Why did I wear these deck shoes

anyway? 

I decide to keep

a weather eye on the horizon….

 

Fini

 

riveoflifelisajoy

COTTON MOUTH

Jay Jewels Cry FOR HUMANITYDry like the parchment of the

scroll of a writ

of so long ago

Thousands of years

hid away

Moments in the hands of

an anthropologist

crackling under his

sweaty palms

grasp

the dry old parchment

will melt away

if not put in sealed

archival containers

dry like the old linen dress

of yesteryear

like a ball of cottom in my mouth

the medical diagnosis

has come and gone

and now my sensations are

minimized

except for the diagnosis

pain that is ripping its’

way deep into my heart.

Trying to explain to my

child that he has to

take medication to save his

life.

Cotton mouth,

loss of taste for the

things you love.

Loss of sensation in my

feet and hands

Sitting I type not

feeling, not

wanting to feel the pain

deep searing a tunnel through

my stomach

I feel full,

gas overcomes my belly

cotton mouth

prevents me from

eating

like the fullness of

emptiness I hold

deep in my belly to

unfold until I scream from

pain and agony

Take the truth,

dealt the truth

no compassion

was the final blow

given

lost in a new

hell

fear of the unknown and

the diagonosis compells

the rickety fence of hell to

open and reveal the ominous

cavern that threatens to swallow

us whole

We must proceed my child

we must go in

Cotton mouth,

sweaty palms,

sweaty feet,

sudden compulsion to

release bodily fluids,

fight or flight sydrome

in full affect

compel me oh Lord

toward the light

Let taste return

Cotton Mouth–

I cannot swallow

for the diagnosis

itself is not paletable

The diagnosis was

given with such cold

precision like the blade

of the surgeons knife

Hold my hand my child

walk together we will

toward the tower of hell

but together we will

climb to heaven

despite the steely grasp of the  Cotton mouth!

Cross Over

Old Fabric by RiveroflifelisajoyCross Over and move out the way

Sometimes the river does not

sway,  the tide is high  and

my spirit is low

I do not want to look back

or let go

What do I say  to my child

to day

His love of life has

been challenged,

like a dry twig broken

and chips of it splinter

and fall away

His health is  limited

yet a picture of health

is he

So why this sad problem

that plagues me today

The doctor looks cool, and

medical team too serene

Your child has to take

xxxmiligrams and

that is all…

Have a nice day

Go forth, leave the

hospital and jump back

into the stream. river of life

and move on

after this limited 5 day

hospital stay

But wait,  I have more questions,

What about the side affects….

“OH, he just might be a bit sleepy…that is all

any way…have a good day!

No, NO!  I need to say this,  I have to ask

that….do not dismiss me so easily

For I must fight for my child

I must question, and stay longer if

I must

For though you are the doctor…I cannot

entirely trust

for each patient has

different needs, and questions…so let us reason,

let us rationalize before we say our goodbyes!

So again I say dear Doctor

today—crossover from your generalized sermon, and

medical doctrine

Crossover to a parent who is human, and alive..

Because the condition of which you speak

is not simple to me

not simple to my child

just simple medical diagnosis to you

So please….cross over from the cold

cruel world  of illness

disease

and  speak

Woman to Woman,  possibly Mother to Mother

please.

Fini

Riveroflifelisajoy

Wonderful!

nature-meets-construction-by-riveroflifelisajoy-number-two-scan.jpgWonderful I said. 

Yes,  Just Wonderful!

The weather is bright,

The moon is just right……

Wonderful!

But yet—I cry.

Why me I said,

the child of mine lays

flat on the bed.

The sun is shining brightly outside

his bedroom window.

We were just getting ready to go home

And he became ill.

Wonderful, I had said,

Marvelous, Great Fantastic

I thought and then

he was prone

attacked by a seizure.

“I Need Help!  I Need Help!  I NEED HELP!  I NEED HELP!

Was all I could say

I wanted to wail,

and scream and

drive that evil away!

I can’t watch, I can’t see

the Evil wretch which

threatened and attacked

my fifteen yearold baby!

So what?…that  he is fifteen….does it matter?

If your husband, or wife take ill….does it

matter that he or she is 50 years old?  or 35  years old?

Sickness, disease….NEVER come at the right time!

Death does not live in a life of reason

or ryhme….So please do not

ask me, or chide me and say….HOW OLD IS YOUR SON?

For when he lay prone against the hospital bed, and nothing left

to be said—-Look at him with love, look at him

with compassion…..for your family, your friends could be

sick tomorrow or the

day after…..just pray for me today

Don’t say, Well, he IS 15!

Well, a lady whose  husband passed away at the age of 45 from a massive

heart attack was older….and the loss is deep, and troubling nonetheless…..–Remember Jack Ritter who died from a Massive Heart tear?— from

Three’s Company Fame?—Everyone Cared…and Cried

all the same!

Just   offer a hand or a hug of compassion,

and  a  gentle breeze of concern….

Do not dismiss my challenge with

How Old is he?  Even if he were age 18—-he still would need MY help!

Yes, he is still my child….

So yes,  Wonderful!


It truly is Wonderful…when people can be responsive in a most

pleaseant way.

Why don’t you try that approach

today?

P.S.  

THANKYOU SYNDER CHILDREN’S HOSPITAL @ LongIsland Jewish for helping my son—No matter what his Age!

FINI!

—-Riveroflifelisajoy

Parents, children, teens….COMMUNICATE THROUGH ART WORK AND THE FINE ARTS….TRY IT ….YOU AND THE FAMILY JUST MIGHT LIKE IT!!!!!

nature-meets-construction-by-riveroflifelisajoy-number-two-scan.jpgNATURE MEETS CONSTRUCTION” BY RIVEROFLIFELISAJOY   

I felt led to curl my lines, and then I found a ruler that called out to me.  I blended  two types of lines and found that the sharp pointed edges and the curled soft ones could coexist!–thus…”Nature Meets Construction”—  

  Check out JayJewels work at the Fireoflifejayjewels @wordpress.com. Jay Jewels my son is 14 years old and shares my love of the arts! 

When you cannot afford the movies, and video rental but you have a piece of pen and paper….draw….

I draw for my health, and strength.  I love the arts!  Try it!  You might bring down your blood pressure, and increase positive outlook!

Get the family in on  art work too.  Grandmother, baby,  husband,  and teenagers….have a family night and get a lot of art supplies and see what you and your loved ones can create with a crayon, or paint.  Remember to use news paper on your tables.

If you are suffering from family loss,  sometimes you can express yourself better by drawing out your feelings in a picture.  Some pictures may be dark, but so what?  Let those feelings out and you will ease some of the pain.  Hey,  nothing beats a try!  You might enjoy it!

Job stress tends to shorten lives.  Paint,  hobbies,  knitting,  singing,  writing helps. 

Spend time talking to your kids over a jar of crayons, construction paper and finger paints.  For the older kids get the chinese ink and water color.  You will see that alot of things get talked about during art work time in your house.  Then make dinner and see how peaceful meal time can be after a Saturday of Art work!!!!

You Understood me Right? Riveroflifelisajoy prose & poetry

Bambo Huts by Riveroflifelisajoy              I said that… and then you said I think

Well, I guess we will sit here

at the brink in the

thoughts of

our own heads

as we lay in

our own separate

beds

On the telephone

late at night

talking until we

fall asleep

afraid to close our

eyes because

of what resides

behind the

eyelids and

the pain that

threatens to crawl

out of its’

hole and pull

us within its

dark abyss and

home

hell to which a

place I have

never wanted to

roam

In the losses

and the battles

and the gathering of

strength by

adverseries

weapons

So here we sit

on the telephone

complaining at

each other

for not

understanding

what the other said

not understanding

what the other

meant

I want to hang up now

still too  close

to being wide

awake to

hang up

Usually

we fall asleep

with the phone

as an open line

till one of us realizes  that

the other has

fallen asleep and

finally hangs up

the phone

Then the other sleeps with

the constant buzzing

and respeat recording from

the phone “Please Hang UP…”

Till the morning creeps through

the window

the nights conversation, last words

mumbled into the phone

receiver, the last thoughts of

agony over the past like the

sand of the beach blowing away

into your dreams and pain lowers it’s

ugly head and crawls back to

its abyss until

finally you have fallen

into the arms of

dreamless sleep

Frustration of not being

understood before sleep

overcame you now is

disolved into

slumber and light breathing

of a sleeper

arms and legs curled

into the fetus position

and your brow

no longer furrowed

but now your forehead

clear of anger lines

your mouth slighty agape

and your fist Bambo Huts by Riveroflifelisajoy

unfurled into an

open hand at rest

You understood me Right?

A distant conversation that

has been put to rest

until another time

Put to rest until the next

night when

sleep is hard to find

so the phone calls again

and the little arguements

until sleepiness and the

“Sand Man” comes with

bag in hand to lead you by the

hand to “Sleepy Time Land” —

the place that bids you welcome

and  possible freedom from your

frustrated, pain, anguished, anxious

day…..Come bids the Sand Man,  Come

recline, resign to be at

peace and rest

The ocean of Sleepiness is at

its’ crest

Jump aboard and

gather your sleepy eyes

and let the sleepy time fly

and soon those things

that troubled you will flee

and you can stay here

with me

the Sand Man….Little horse, little sheep

jumping the enternal fence and you can

count them all……

You awake and look around and

there you find your link

to sleep, the

telephone—laying next

to you and then you groan.

How long before I begin to

regain normal sleeping patterns?

The tradegy that took

your natural sleep patterns

away and turned your midnight

hours into day….2 years ago…

the loss, the hurt you asage with

midnight phone calls to a dear and

trusted friend

You fuss and argue

just to pass the time

so to usher in

the Sand Man and

his bag of sand that invites you

to sleep and

cast away the cares of

the day…..

You understood me ….

Right???????

—-FINI—-

……riveroflifelisajoy

A Thought Provoked….

Old Fabric by RiveroflifelisajoyUpon my bed I lay

eyes shut and dreaming

my mind spins in time with

my breathing

Breathe deep and then

it feels shallow,

possibly a cold or bronchitis

The day eventful, loss of pay

loss of my goals

just for today

Looking at the gray clouded sky

outside my window in this

my dream,

I think, what if…..just what if

I could not see?

What if, I could not be me?

What if I could not raise my hand

to wipe away that bit of sand

on my brow or my feet?

What if  I had to wait

and wait, and wait

for someone to raise my body

to feed me, or clothe me?

What if I could not speak?

If I were always very, very ill and

weak?

What if this thought provoked by

my mother,

her talks about life to me

 Make me contimplate my possible destiny

had I not been born

though not wealthy at all

to this family that struggled

through and

buried our loved ones one or two

over the years.

Being wrapped up like kitten in

side a ball of yarn.

The thoughts provoked create 

a fresh fortress for my hurt and my

pain.

 What if,  after all is over,  I am

desolate, dead and alone in

my grave

What if,  time does not stand

still, but continues on in some

twilight realm

With a strange and eerie

cloud of purple   mist

A little boat cresting on the

floating purple cloud

but then I awake

from my bed and sleepiness

I must shake

My thought provoked

my dreams dare lead

me to the shallows of

the marshy swamps

with quick sand laid

to suck me under

to the realm of the purple

mist, My hurt to battle

without sword or shield

What if, what if!

I had not driven up that road

I had not eaten that pear

I had not said that phrase

What if I dare say what if

I could replay, restate and

forgive myself for what I

said to you, my friend

this day!

For from clay I am made

but from the iron of my family ancestory..

for endurance

 at my core

 I must

regain my strength

to move forward

and not ponder

the thought provoked.