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Lessons

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Cycles

Love remains in turbulence
Drafts of doubts from time to time
Then back it comes in reassuring waves
That strength between two surging
Connectivity linked
Again in sync
Dancing slowly in the darkness.
Angela K. Crandall
©5/13/19

Early morning musings

   Simple songbirds sit singing while I lie in bed running my hands across the sheets. I put my pillow over my head to drowned out their happiness, joy, cheerful banter. Late evenings don’t mix well with wildlife in the morning. Perhaps next time I’ll tell my friends’ goodnight before the clock strikes an unsavory hour. I’ll have the will power to pull back and say no. For now, I’ll get up, and dress my coffee with a generous amount of creamer.

Angela K. Crandall

©5/8/19

Mid-Day Ramblings

Everything feels the same
No forward momentum
There is no change
But everything is changing
Moving
Going
Growing
Even I am moving further into my life
Each step leading to aging
I am writing, serving what I feel is my purpose
Still, it is stagnant
Not, ripening like an apple
But I will rot
We all die
I attempt to live in each moment
And when I’ve risen
Someone pulls me down
Their words, thoughts actions I’m told to ignore
And when I rise above them, the hope lasts maybe a month
If I’m lucky I can brush their thoughts or views aside
Exhale and try to make things matter
This voice that screams for you to listen
And then you’re told you want attention
We all want attention, to be heard
Or would we rather
Sit back and turn on the television
Ignore the things turning around us
It’s hate, beauty, and the uniform we are forced to wear
Society’s standards are not mine
And I type on my machine
I’m in no race
Click, click, click
Words with meaning to sometimes only me
And I wonder if they glimpse at all, peak at what is underneath this skin
Of a beating heart that would bleed
For those who wish to speak
I know what it’s like to linger in the sidelines
To stop, not speaking, to not interrupt, to be polite
Because if you stumble over them, push them, or try
You have no manners
While neither will I.
Angela K. Crandall
©4/2/19

Hiding scars

I am lost, and I can’t give you anything. I’ve handed over so much of myself already. I give out hope like candy, treat others with as much dignity as possible. I’ve only lashed out when harmed, or to defend my heart. Yet still, I feel as if people walk over me, stomping on me without having to use a word. That I can be there for everyone, do the right thing at the drop of a hat, and when I turn or point it out they just walk away. Afterward, I’m the one who is playing the victim, caused the problem, created a violent act. This why I keep silent even when in pain because they would say it was bullshit; me hiding because I know your words and reaction will hurt me.
Angela K. Crandall
©3/21/19

Anticipation

 The chill of the cold winter air blasts through my clothes.
I stop to look up at the trees as they sway, hoping to stay put and not get blown away.
I pull my coat closer to my core fighting the wind, squinting to see, as all the snow blows sideways at me.
I’m treading, tramping, and pushing my way along the snow drifts. It reminds me of a mighty plow, or a little doggie running right now.
Smiling to myself, I keep on.
Homebound, ready for my hot chocolate, a blanket, my chair. Oh, and a sweet little kitten who is waiting for a snug comfortable lap.
Oh, I can see it! My cozy house, a light a lite. So I skip up to the door, pull out my keys, and get in quickly before I continue to freeze.
The grey kitten stands at the top of the stairs with a mutt by her side. He lets out several barks as his butt starts to fly, back and forth so fast he falls, then stands up.
I try not to laugh as I take off my coat, gloves, and hat.
Those two are a hoot. A comedy act and I’m ready to settle in for the night with that.

Angela K. Crandall

©1/22/19

Nano-Writer

I’ve been away typing.

Writing

Stories

Dreams

Scenario’s

Wondering if the outcome will be

Played

Made

Born

Into illusions in heads bringing them to life.

Will you feel every fear she faces, hope, needs, or desire?

How about welcoming these strange events with open arms?

Or will you toss the book aside wondering why you started at all?

Will you be appalled or fall in love with the main characters wishes?

These are my questions I ask myself as I write what’s inside, put it all down, daring to be the writer I wish to be.

Angela K. Crandall

©11/13/18

Scattered thoughts

My dreams rescue me from negativity
They bring forth comfort in the company that resides there
An immense fortress of peace in a kingdom all of my own
Stillness, serenity, peaceful prayer in which I sit
My inner goddess
When I know I’ve said yes to those I should have said no to
My open heart is meant to be a treasure, but some see it as liberal trash
No one speaks of what I’ve done right
I don’t live within my past
It may be a piece of me
But it’s completed, done, over.
I’ve moved forward with the value of those who wish me success
Whose hearts I hope are open to mine as I allow them to keep their hearts open to their own Ideas I often can’t grasp.
I ask merely for tolerance
I won’t change my love for all people, LGBT, and various religions
I won’t promote the hate you prescribe
I’ll vote my way
But I do my best not to point fingers even though I don’t believe your way
I’ll keep being me
In spite of those who want to see me fall
I push myself not to dive into that hole I sometimes wish I could fill with sand
I find comfort in the castle I’ve created when I cannot walk outside my door and feel free.
Yes, I know at times-I’ll only be able to depend on me.
Why though should it give you the right to push me into seclusion
When I turn the other cheek to make me feel as if I’ve wronged you
And in the past, I would have fought you
Instead, I kept quiet.
My heart will heal, I’ll do my best not to poke the bear
Life will go on.
Still, how is one tolerant of intolerance?
It makes me hurt, sad, and angry
And so this is where I go
To my dreams to my computer to my poetry to escape
My comfort from which you cannot yet take.
My illusions that are so safe they wrap me in tranquility.
And do I care if you judge me for them-being unreal?
Go ahead, judge away because they keep me alive every day.
And I’d rather be here, exist to complete my destiny.
If there is a reason for you, there’s a reason for me.
I don’t understand why you don’t appreciate beauty in diversity.
Angela K. Crandall
©10/30/18