Inamorata

Inamorata

I am your Inamorata, kingly lover

pledged to your handsome allegiance

spread wide open to receive your

gratified love

I am your Moonling, imperial emperor

crazed for your compassionate remarks

self-purposed & persistent in pursuit of

pure morality

I am your Muse, judicious truth-seeker

etched into your soft unspoiled propriety

word by carefully written word to gently

arouse humanity

I am your Goddess, Eros of the earth

enamored by the description of your

masculine circumstance inch by inch for

unlawful pleasure

I am your Revenant, regal ruler

anticipate a languid love interruption

but know I will always return to your

fair sovereign

we dance while the sentinels  swoon

we sleep with our limbs entwined

I am your Inamorata

be my Everlasting

my Empire

**

How this poem was written:

I collected a handsome bounty of my favorite writing paraphernalia that included a new blue-inked Paper Mate pen, some blank sheets of paper for scribbling notes and a cup of green tea.  With my dictionary and thesaurus handy as well as a giant wall lined with dust jackets and photos, posters and souvenirs to inspire, I went to it.  All free hand. No typing. No mouse.

The computer that lives in my writing room is broken.  As much as I miss it, it’s also a blessing.  It allows me to steal long stretches of quiet time, free of a glowing screen, a plethora of distractions and the urge to procrastinate.  Without the use of technology as a crutch and a diversion from creativity, I created an environment for myself conducive to writing.  My writing tools, a touch of mood music, my inspirations and solitude brought me to the end of this poem.

I also made certain to leave my internal editor in the hallway, closing the door and shutting her out.  I didn’t want to risk her influence or have her censor my thoughts, make me doubt myself or what spilled out onto the page.  There were moments when she wriggled the door handle but I ignored her pleas to enter and continued to write.

It was pacific, idyllic and late at night.  That is when I do my best work, when I achieve the most success. 

It’s an indulgent poem, endemic with love and undertones of passion and reverence, inspired by nothing more than a word, its title.  It flowered easily rescinded reluctantly.  Charmed, I’m sure.  When I finished a rough drafted, my scrawl reaching far outside of the designated margins, I felt elated, exhilarated, energized.  That’s the best part of this writing thing, the release, the peace, the excitement, the creativity, the solitude, the unknown.  It truly sustains me (something that I say ad nauseum) and I could wax poetic about the process forever.

It is a pleasure to write, for myself first and then for you.  I’ve uttered these words a few times over the past week to fellow scribes, “Hoarding a gift from the rest of the word is criminal.”  Words were meant to be shared and celebrated, to be read and lifted up off of the page into the atmosphere, enunciated, pronounced; so profound. 

If you write, do all of that.  Allow yourself the space and time to create without distraction.  Turn off your TV, your cellphone, the outside world.  Tune in to yourself, your intuition, your spirit and your heart and magic will ensue, pure unadulterated magic.  Silly rabbits to not believe in magic, so easily created by holding a pen and making a pretty mess on a blank page.

/stimulated rant

Happy Tuesday.

In propinquity,

Nic

Elsewhere

Our lives are inundated with rules, expectations, pre-conceived ideas and pressures to be something other than what or who we are.  We are led down long, exhausting paths that find us traveling further and further away from your true selves.  Media, politics, religion and our workplaces are some of the culprits.  Some people can’t be who they truly are at work for fear of being ostracized or not fitting in, some live double lives based on family ideologies and strict religious direction, some exist to simply please others because they have no idea they are able to choose for themselves.  I’ve seen it all.  It’s sad and frightening.  We are only on this earthly plane for such a brief time and it is an unhappy verity to know there are so many of us living by someone else’s trend instead of our own.  Time and time again, I’ve been cultured by wise humans to never suppress the characteristics of my true self in exchange for someone else’s preference.  The older I get, the more I heed the advice.  It started with writing.  Learning now to not censor myself in case someone I loved may take offense or issue with what was put on paper.  It’s probably the greatest lesson I’ve ever learned and has spilled over into other areas of my life.  From there, I’ve tried incredibly hard to maintain that attitude in my relationships with other people and the world.  Relationships with other people can be a challenge since there are several who are still living their lives based on what others believe they should be doing or thinking, who they should love or not love etc, it is terribly hard to break through their barriers and much of it has to do with debilitating fear on their part.  My relationship with the world is much less taxing.  I have come to trust my own voice, my own opinions, beliefs because I listen and learn and contemplate before I decide how to proceed, whatever it is.  I have had people fall away from my life because we don’t agree or enjoy the same things or even though we both believe in God I choose to follow my faith in my own heart instead of inside a church.  That being said, I’d happily congregate with anyone in their place of worship to broaden my perspective and who knows, maybe my spiritual serenity would truly be discovered.  However, because of such rigid black and white ways of thinking, the one invitation I so desperately wanted never came and truthfully now that I have some space and perspective, there isn’t room in my pro-happiness, free-thinking all-encompassing goodness-filled life for those so shallow, narrow-minded, so caught up, so judgmental and for what?  Someone else’s opinion of what they should be doing?  Boring.

At any rate, this poem is written with all of those things in mind.  That it is so damn confusing to choose what and who to believe in, and how and really shouldn’t be.  I vote for believing in myself.  You should too.  Don’t accept someone else’s dogma because of tradition or family obligation, don’t accept an opinion if it isn’t truly yours and don’t waste your time not being a whole person, splitting yourself into pieces to fit into certain folds.  It’s a waste of precious time and a detriment to your uniqueness, the one who really matters and the one who deserves the world. 

Stand up for yourself, for who you are, as you are, not how someone wants you to be.  You rule. 

/rant

Elsewhere

behave cautiously

tethered to instructions

consider the act of suffering

through opportune margins

but resist

& look instead toward

the ribald ruins of poetry

for customary questions

& anticipated demands

slender queries

yet prosperous

with definitive conclusions

full of raw luster

& human guise

believe everything

is insufficiently inadequate

choose elusive uncertainty

bound to pastel commands

deliberate reverse happenchance

through unfavorable boundaries

but repel

& seek instead the stillness

of stretched sentences

audible only to you

(be tangled

elsewhere)

anywhere but here

with anyone but them

**

Over and out.

In propinquity,

Nic