Ink Spots

My pen is so full of ink

It gushes from my fountain pen

Splattering on the paper,

making an ink spot.

like what doctors of the mind use

to figure people out.

I see

A spider, a bear, a prickly cactus

who cares,

ink spots are obsolete.

 

Isolating

So I stay to myself,

So I'm quiet,

So what if I'm alone.

My mind, being full of feelings,

pressures me to write.

Don't bother

trying to lure me into friendship

I know I would love you,

Except I don't have the time.

Don't be disturbed

at my being alone.

I'm OK.

Just occupied.

Changing

Watching the ice cycle drip

outside my window.

knowing it will melt away.

It still exists, but 

in a different form.

I'm wishing for something,

pretty and caring, soft and loving

holding me

Forever.

but like the ice cycle

everything changes.

Draught

The ground is hard,
crumbling, and cracked.
My soul is limp,
like a thirsty plant
begging for water.

A raisin nurtured with love
grows backwards,
becoming a grape.
A young, lucsious, purple grape.
soaking in a bowl of water.

Bone Cold

The air is full of little white spots
floating towards the ground,
icy on my tongue.
frozen on my window

I bundle up warm, sitting
by the fire, drinking
hot chocolate, eating
donuts.

Outside,
a painting of pure, white, untouched
snow.
the bone cold air feels good.

Ugly Guts

I know my guts are ugly
Difficult to watch
Something to be avoided,
My pores are seeping 
moss covering a rock
Sitting in the middle
of your pure white carpet,
among designer furniture, and
carefully placed flowers.

Being so ugly, It's hard to ignore.
I understand your discomfort
Your not wanting to know
How ugly a thing can be,
so I'll try to be more careful
While spilling my guts and 
being so ugly.

What It's About

Holidays stir feelings
With holiday shopping
and funds running low
The days running fast,
and I'm running slow.
Thinking of Loved ones,
and being at home
Not for sorrow 
and being alone.
It's about the savior,
bringing peace, joy,
and love
He came as a child
from Heaven above.

Fiction Story Despcriptions

1.  Jack and Jill is a story about a man who looses his identity after an accident, and goes by the name, John Doe.

2.  Ticket to the Moon is about four friends in 1969, who agree to reunite in 20 years to take a trip to the moon,

3.  The Gollywhallupers is a children's story about a magical friend trying to change people's attitudes about Gollywhallupers being scary.

4.  Life at the Bottom is about alcohol and drug abuse and people panicking when a friend dies.

5.  Afraid of Being an Old Maid, tells about a young lady,expecting to marry a returned missionary, in the temple and is disillusioned.

6.  An Old Flame - is about domestic abuse and justifiable murder, including a fire.

7.  Mona, After the end of long difficult relationship in Oregon, she goes driving down the coast and ends up in Ventura, California.  This story illustrates her pain.

8.  Table Number 9 - Takes place in an assisted living center, including, a variety of people, their backgrounds, personalities and temperaments.

9,  They Very Worst is about a woman dependant on the mental health system in Salt Lake City.  She was extremely competitive, seeming to want to be the very best and the have the very worst mental situation.

10. One Person's Story - tells the story of one persons battle with mental illness.

Sleeping

When your head is a rock on a pillow,
Your eyes resting and closed,
Thoughts of the day confusing,
Traveling across your world,
Fulfilling visions,
Young and old. and
in the morning returning,
Rested, yet
Yearning to live another dream.

Flaw

The big hand is on the ten,
The little hand is on the six.
Telling my mom and 
feeling smart at age four.

My mother's smile
exposes her affection,
and I love my mother.

I was a happy kid, but
a flaw in my chemistry
grew like a cancer,
enveloping my whole self,
leaving me charred,
hard to look at
hard to accept
hard to express affection

hard to know what to do.

Mom has gone.
While remembering 
what I put her through,
I feel a huge, infected ball
Inside my gut.

Purpose

Naked and crying at birth.
Wrinkled like dried fruit at death.

Being cared for with 
baby lotion and
family to love.

To emergency rooms,
Stacks of Medical files.
Xrays and test results.

Therapy notes
Written by someone 
assigned to bring me joy.
and to support me.

Real friends 
who share laughter

Trying to prolong 
Our visit to this world.

In the end
all these important things,
go six feet under.
Why?

JoAnne

As I stumbled blindly down
my troubled path,
reaching for someone to trust,
your gentle, soft perfumed hand
held on to me.
Guiding me.

We shared laughter, emotions,
personal things.
Many years
you helped me survive
and more.
You taught me to enjoy.

I have learned of your recent passing,
I still want to share
If you could see me now,
somehow
I'd give you a holler
"Look at me, JoAnne,
See how far I've come."

Guess Her Diagnosis

Burning purple and red,
Her swollen body
oozing with infection
She stands in their faces,
the doctors and the aides, 
who cannot agree
on the nature of her disease.
Be it depression,
Psychosis or
the dreadful personality disorder.
How do they treat this
swollen purple thing, which
offends everyone with it's odor?
Should they use gentle kindness or
brutal rejection.

How Dare I

How dare I wear
my pretty cloths,
flaunt my thick and wavy hair.
I watch with glaring eyes
as you stumble
in ragged shoes.
your failures
create a begging frown.
Your stare threatens me.
How dare I progress
and leave you like this.

My Icy Shell

In icy snow I stand,
Inside my shell,
Keeping out the arrows.
and the pellets
that bounce and lie dead
around my frozen toes.
I was proud of my shell,
Built for protection,
Until the inside became
very cold, empty, and lonely.
Feeling safe and yet
regretting.
Wishing for some warmth
to free my soul.

I Wanna be a Singer

Our  family of seven huddled around the radio, listening.  TV wasn't available yet in our mountain town in Northern California.  For as long as I can remember, I loved singing along with the radio.  My family encouraged me.  The songs I loved to sing most were, "The Tennessee Waltz," and "Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer."

Mom and Dad thought my singing was cute and had me sing solos in church.  I stood in front of the congregation, wearing my red gingham dress with a white pinafore.  My hair had a permanent.I stood next to the piano, looking at the people smiling up at me, making me feel special.
I sang "Jesus Wants Me For a Sunbeam."  I got confused about the part saying, "A sunbeam, a sunbeam, Jesus wants me for a sunbeam."  I kept singing it over and over again.  I could have gone on forever, if someone hadn't stopped me.

During Grade school I continued singing,  I especially enjoyed singing in the restroom, where the hollow sound resonated.  In the ladies room at school, I was alone, singing and singing, really belting it out.  I studied my face in the mirror, trying to capture just the right look.

Suddenly, a little girl entered the room saying, "The teacher said, to tell you your disturbing the class."

I was embarrassed, but when I returned to class the teacher invited me to sing front of the kids,  I was thrilled as I sang,, "The Wayward Wind," and "The Banana Boat Song."  The kids really liked it.  One of the girls told me I was as good as Elvis.

I told mother once, "I want to sing in a choir.  Maybe, even the Tabernacle Choir."

I sang in the choir in high school.  We sang at schools, churches and at Christmas we sang in the mall.
On Easter, after lots of practice our choir performed, "The Messiah."

My sister, Jan also liked to sing.  Being a soprano, she could hit the high notes.  I sang alto and we did duets for family and church activities.  Years later, Jan trained her voice and became a professional opera singer.

My dream is to express joy, passion, and comfort during sad times.  It sometimes brings peace amid chaos.

Popcorn Seed

A popcorn seed I planted,
watered it and watched it grow
It started as a point of a leaf, 
and Grew green and tall.
inside mother's flower bed.
Like the ugly sister
at the princess ball

Conspicuous,
she stretches her leaves,
Reaching for the sun.
My popcorn plant,
the only one.

Mother grumbled,
"It's got to go!"
I pled with tears to spare my plant,
So innocent and wanting to grow.

She yanked it up.
chopped it down.
My popcorn plant, 
Lay dead on the ground.

Gentle

Your soft voice,
Pleasant Smile,
I read your gentle eyes,
Crave your gentle touch,
Your arms caressing me,
Holding me tight.
feeling love, and
 Endulging.

Guts

Growing up in different schools,
different neighborhoods,
Mom affectionately worried,
Saying I was just like her.
Shy, withdrawn, scared.

As I grew
watching Mom struggle,
I saw much more to her
I saw strength, honesty and bravery.

Now I am a writer,
and people are amazed at my guts
that amaze and remind me of
Mom.

Remembering

As we wander along
Down different roads
Gradually separating
our endearments.
Reflecting on decades
of friendship, laughter
and song.
At the end of my day
Relaxing in my bed
My memories are all horror stories

An Important Person

Introducing Tara
A young adult,
Twisted in her wheelchair,
Her speech tangled.
Reaching out to her caregivers,
Making them feel useful
Her laughter brings them joy
Tara is one person among millions
Teaching kindness and affection.
Her contribution.

Gollywhallupers

I was three years old when Mom and Dad were leaving me home with my brother and sisters.  I wanted to go with them, but they didn't pay attention to my screaming tears.  As they walked out of the door, Dad gave me a warning, "Look out for the boogie man and don't let the Gollywhallupers get you."

When Mom and Dad returned, they tucked me into my bed.  In my bed, I was thinking about Gollywhallupers, wondering what they looked like and if they were scary.

Suddenly, I saw a pink animal with a head resembling Miss Piggy and the texture of a gummy bear.  She stood at that foot of my bed, bigger than me.

"What are you?" I asked.

"I'm a Gollywhalluper.  My name is priscilla."

"No. You can't be a Golllywhalluper. You're not scary enough."

"Most of us aren't scary.  The actions of a few gives us a bad reputation.  I'm here on a mission to change our reputation, one child at a time.  Is there anywhere you would like to go or see?  I'll take you anywhere.  I prefer some place pretty.

After some thought I said, "I want to go to Holland.  I would like to see the tulips, the wooden shoes and Dutch dresses with aprons and a hat.

"That's original.  Most kids want to go to Disneyland."

"I can go to Disneyland anytime."

"Close your eyes." Priscilla told me. "Come fly with me over the nation, over the ocean on our way to Holland.  Put this little plastic flute in your bag and enjoy.  When you want to return, play the tune, My Favorite Things on your flute.  I will come carry you back to your bedroom."

I woke remembering my trip to Holland.  I thought it was a dream.  In the kitchen, my dad was fixing breakfast saying, "Did you sleep good?  Did you run into any Gollywhallupers?"

"Yes, Dad.  I had a wonderful dream."

I went to my room to get dressed when I spotted something poking out beneath the bed.  When I pulled it out, I realized it was a wooden shoe.

"Priscilla, How did you do this?  You've got to come meet my father.  He thinks you're scary."

"We gollywhallupers only visit children, especially when children are told we are dangerous."

"I can't just forget about it.  I want to tell the world."

"Most of the world has never heard of Gollywhallupers and the ones who have are frightened by us.  You can help by telling the children.  Adults can't comprehend anything that they can't touch.  A child's innocence let's the magic in.

Next time your dad is leaving the house and telling you, "Watch out for the Gollywhallupers."  You can pretend to be frightened,  You and I have a secret."

Run Away Mind

Lost in the chaos of the crowd.
my mind runs away

to a place I don't remember.

In the background

distant voices

barely audible

Jabbering things I don't understand.

Upon my return

I feel embarrassed,

hoping that nobody missed me.

Another Day

Waking up early 
Going through the motions
of my morning routine.
Overdosing on caffeine,
Planning my day
of TV, the computer
and visiting with friends.
Resting on Sunday.
Looking forward to Monday.
Another day,
Another week.
Another Christmas,
Gone.
And we start over again.

Writing

I first thought about writing while living in Ventura, California, with Mom, Dad and Steve.

I was in my bedroom, thinking about my boyfriend and wanting to share some of my feelings with him.  I felt like I had to hide some of my deepest feelings.  I imagined myself as a cookie jar filled with all kinds of goodies.   Some good, some negative.  I wrote a little poem about it.  That's where I got the title to my blog.

In English 101, at BYU, my teacher encouraged me to write, saying it was a gift.  I decided to take a creative writing class at the college in Ventura,  I liked it so much that I took it over again.

I wrote a few poems and a couple of short stories.

Years later, when I was using mental health, one the ladies working with me, JoAnne encouraged me to write.  Every time I wrote a poem, I took it over to show her.  She found a poetry class through the Granite School District Adult Education and helped me sign up.

The class was wonderful.  Utah's Poet Laureate and the writer of the book of the year were in that class.

I've been writing for years.  I have published two poems and a story.  I've been trying to write a book, but I seem to write the same things over again, I am trying to get it just right.

I spend most of my time writing and I have become prolific.

Tear Drops

Drops of water
Dripping from my eyes
Rolling down my cheeks
Salty on my lips.

They could be cleaning drops
Washing away my blemishes
Leaving me bright, smooth and
Fresh

Purple Noses

If I painted my nose purple
Would people notice me?
Would the think of me as different?
Would they speculate about my  motives?
and wonder if I'm dangerous.
People fear what they don't understand,
Like why a person would
Paint their nose purple.

Funny?

I'm not trying to be funny.
This is serious stuff.
Like exposing your insides
to the doctor
Who sits across the room
reading the phone bill.
Or group therapy
filled with profound conversation
and questioning,
"Do chickens have lips."

Appearance

Can't get my pants zipped up,
so I let my belly hang out.
Can't afford a hair cut.
My hair long and snarled
My faded shirt exposes my spare tire.
I wonder what people think of me.
I wonder what a lunatic looks like.

Maybe I could get a donation
from my distant relative
who I've been told exists.
Maybe he'd have concern
for his poor starving cousin 
but then he probably thinks
I am lazy and all I want is a bottle of wine.
 ,

Clean and Bright

Like seeing the world
With your first pair of glasses,
Or the end of a long winter
With dirty air 
That made me cough and 
Gasp 

Spring is shining
Clean and bright
Much like the end
of a long depression.

A Simple Trip to Walmart

Anticipating Disaster        Make sure I have
                                     
                            Everything
      Check my purse
I need
Cash,
Debit Card
Driver's License
Cell phone
                                          Do I have my keys?
Check my purse again
                                      Don't forget my glasses      The cane
                                                         The handicapped sign

On my way to Walmart
In this lane,  Am I supposed to turn left?
                                      Swerving to change lanes
                                       In the middle of the intersection
        I discover,
I should have turned left

                                               Suddenly
I forgot the way to Walmart
                                             What if I end up lost


somewhere                                 Never to find my way back.

At Walmart
                   Sitting in my car
I am positive

                         I will Fall
in the parking lot.     or maybe

I won't make it to the bathroom and I will wet my pants in front of all these people.

In the end 
My errand is run.     

Everything's fine.  Nothing went wrong.  No Disaster.

I need to do something about this anxiety.

Nobody Told Me

When I first found out that I had a mental illness, nobody told me what was wrong or what to expect.  The doctors gave me medicine, but didn't tell me what it was supposed to do or what side effects I would live with.

Nobody told me that I would spend the rest of my life alone in fear of other people.  I probably wouldn't marry or have children.  I most likely would not hold a college degree.  I would work on entry level jobs, if I worked at all.

I would be obsessed with thoughts in my head that would nag at me constantly.  I would have difficulty concentrating to read a book, watch TV or  have a simple conversation.  My room would be filled with some kind of fog that seemed to control everything.

I would live with uncomfortable side effects, some of them permanent, that make me look like somethings.wrong.

Shy

Shy is a little word.
Not big,
Not loud,
but timid, 
soft spoken.

Yet it controls
Everything,
Leaving me 
Isolated
Unnoticed
Living in fear
as I sit silently
in my room
all alone

Waiting

Waiting
For a diamond ring
A kiss
A wedding day
Nine months waiting
A baby on it's way

For decades I sat waiting 
patiently, anxiously for
Something that never happened.
I don't know what to wait for
anymore.

Caress

My body was limp,
like a plant never watered
Bent, Leaning toward the light.

A man caressed me and
I felt like a garden finally being watered.
The absorbing moisture
Puffed my face, 
Straightened my fingers and
Made me smile.

I've lived through drought and famine.
Feeling like a deflated balloon.
A simple touch or caress
Would fill my soul.

We Could Be Friends

You might like me.
I'm smart and thoughtful.
We can laugh, joke and play
Gossip and
Share,
Things that only good friends
Share
I'm hoping you will be my friend
Even after you discover
How crazy I really am.

What Sisters Are For

Running through the house
Play with me, Jan
Yvonne, What does rape mean?
Help me make a cake.
Marlene, play me a song.
You're supposed to pay attention,
Entertain me and 
teach me things I don't understand.
Sisters are for kissing me better.

As grown women you still support me.
My bumps and my bruises
Not your fault.

You wrap me in a warm blanket
and caress me
As I tremble.

Covered With Guew

All my feelings are running over,
Trying to hide, trying to deny
Trying to turn into a rock,
that remains strong
no matter what.

Here I stand
Covered in guew,
Slimy, Sticky, Sharp
with points that poke me.

How will this ever end?

I Wanna Be Loud

I'm tired of being alone
with my thoughts.
Your words flow easily
While mine are scattered
skipping inside my head.
Occasionally sticking my words 
between yours.
Nobody hears me.
I've been cursed with a 
soft voice and a shy spirit.
Although I am too quiet 
to be heard
I am rumbling inside
like an active volcano.

Don't Touch

Living in the cold
Never being held
Starving for affection
yet refusing
and accusing 
Phony people's good will.
Longing for a hug
Beginning to search
for someone who feels.

Pretend Hugs

Your pretend hugs offend me.
Pretending to love me
Pretending to care.
Artificial feelings
Leaving me here
Longing for warmth
and a love that is real.

Being Me

Trying to comprehend
the concept of being me.
Why I was put in this
particular shell of a body
with my personal traits
My background and my values.
Unique

If I could choose who I am
I would rather be a princess. 

Lighter

My world is lighter
And I feel radiant,
Shining with gratitude
Even though
I haven't been denied
Love and caring
This glowing
Is unfamiliar
A much larger feeling
Floating peacefully.
above.

Passing Time

Another pill,
Another day goes by
and every day is repitition.
until it's time for me to pass.
My craziness is my excuse for
doing nothing that isn't painful
or stupid.
I don't want to hurt anyone
I'm just trying to rush
the passing time. 

Love

When my spirit swells
within it's shell,
In the thickness of my soul
I'm feeling love.
A love not built by romance
but nourished in kindness
and I am here watching in awe
at your refined wisdom

The Joke

The children did it.
It was just play.
A bit of mischief
on a summer day.
In their cut off jeans
and their dusty toes
They strung the wire
from the telephone poles.

Invisible thin in the skipping sun.

They muffled their giggles,
Crouched among brittle weeds.
Waited for a startled car
to break their naughty deed.

They weren't expecting 
Jenny on her bike.
Pushing the pedals
then gliding the breeze
Golden hair waving
Lifted chin
Riding the wind
Freedom cut
by the wire thin
into her wind
pipe

Jenny on her bike 
They weren't expecting.

Nightmare

Graveyards and accidents
Shot in the face and laughing.
A man in my bed
Intruding my body.
Fear and anxiety exploding.
Opening the window
Pushing on the screen.
Hanging half way out
unable to scream.
I waken
Sweating.

Mirrors

Looking at my exposed feelings
My open wounds that sting,
You may notice your own 
similar emotions that sting.
Like looking past me
An image in a mirror.
I don't blame you 
for wanting to break the mirror.

Back and Forth

While I'm happy
I feel like singing
I love the world
It's sunshine and
bright colors.
The people and the
conversations.
I feel affection, love,
people caring about 
each other.
I can do anything!

When I'm sad,
I live in a hole,
Damp and mildewed,
Always in the dark
People gossiping,
Acting as if it's their job
to complain.

I hide in my room.
Worse than uncared about.
Afraid of people's abuse.

I can handle moods swings
if it doesn't happen
within a few hours
Back and Forth

Being Genuine

Honesty brings daylight
Melts the snow
Uncovers the hidden 
Blessings
That had been buried
Beneath the dirty air.

On Purpose

I feel that people think
I'm making the whole thing up.
I don't know how to do that.
I don't need to.
My symptoms scream at the world,
with words and actions.
I don't need to create things.
I have enough already.

A Generation Leaving

As a part of this world,
we all, in our own time
slip away  from this existence.

As we near our departure,
our numbers decrease.
The crowd of people 
who need each other
Gradually thinning 
like aging hair.
Another generation 
Slips
away.

The Cafe

We've been in this cafe before.
In the booth I see my friend, Jeannie
Who turns into Marion
Who turns into Michael
and Judy and Kevin, Jill and the rest.
In this cafe we talk and
enjoy each other
over and over
again.  

The Retirement Home

Our bodies and minds
are wearing out.
Our loved one send us here
to live with strangers
with a variety of backgrounds,
personalities and temperaments.
We pass time by watching each other.
Like we are all part of a soap opera.

We are provided food, therapy
and entertainment.
They do or work, 
laundry and cleaning..

As time passes
we lose track of  the days,
months and years 
and Christmas keeps coming.

Eventually, we pass 
and more worn out people
fill our space.

The Decision

Almost ten years ago
I mad e a decision
to have a surgery
that would continue my life.
I don't want to make 
that  decision again
and I am thankful that
It's not up to me.

Fellings

At sixty seven years old,
I look back
remembering events
that can make me laugh
or put me in the depths of despair.
It feels so permanent,
but it's not.