On Being a Poet

“To be a poet is to place pleasure, beauty and sensual delights front and centre, it means having a predilection for debauchery.”
― Nicole Brossard

“I have a dark and dreadful secret. I write poetry.”
― Stephen Fry

“...who shall measure the heat and violence of a poet's heart when caught and tangled in a woman's body?”
― Virginia Woolf

“They say that I am a poet. I wonder what they would say if they saw me from the inside. I bottle emotions and place them into the sea for others to un-bottle on distant shores. I am unsure as to whether they ever reach and for that matter as to whether I ever get my point across or my love.”
― Saul Williams

“...poets, and people with mental health disorders, can make people nervous.”
― Ian Sansom

“You see, I am a poet, and not quite right in the head, darling. It’s only that.”
― Edna St. Vincent Millay

“A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language.”
― W.H. Auden

Dear Reader,

If you’re really there, especially you, the girl who often feels as I do, who struggles and falls, and feels oh-so-foolish... who dreams and hopes and works really hard... if you’re really there, you are the one who keeps me honest and raw.  You remind me that I can’t sugar coat my struggles, because that wouldn’t be fair.  You give me hope that my vulnerability will encourage someone, somewhere, if you’re reading here.  I began this post weeks ago, wanting to share what it's like to love a girl like me. And tonight, it's going a different direction than I originally planned. It will be emotional and messy.  I hope it makes sense enough to be worth reading.  Because tonight, I really, really need to write it, for my own heart.  

On Being a Poet

He calls me his Poet; I think it started because Ephemera was an unfamiliar word, and difficult to spell.  I didn’t mind at first, and now, it makes me feel cherished.  He praises my “poet heart” and expresses his love for my passion and emotion, and I am in awe.

Being a poet is probably no more difficult, or simple, than anything else, but I don’t really know.  I’ve only ever been who I am, and from a very young age, I loved language, and my love-language was language.  I have always been passionate, emotional and deep feeling, I have longed to be known deeply and understood deeply.  I did spend many years in my teens and twenties... and lets face it, in my thirties and forties... trying to tone down the passion and emotion, feeling I was too much, difficult to love, and overwhelming if I let down my guard and shared what I was really feeling deep down.  I still carry the scars of those messages that made me withdraw, and close off my full emotions.  I’m learning slowly, how to heal them, how to trust.  For the first time in decades I have felt safe - to not hold back with him.  My “too much” was celebrated instead of disdained.

He has always reminded me that he loves me just as I am... and needs a poet... this poet... in his life.  This year, she has done the same - writing to me, and verbally reminding me that though the parts of me that are mother, grandmother, friend, partner and even little girl are treasured and admired, what captured her heart was my passion and my poet-heart.  I am loved, wanted, needed, desired, cherished and celebrated.  This I know - deep down.

I am also messy, I struggle with emotion and depression, and am challenged by conflicts and insecurities when it comes to the practical stuff.  I battle with hopes and disappointments, with fears and flaws.  I know I’m not the only one.  I want to be clear that I’ve not been made to feel that I am the only one.  Still, lately I’ve been feeling my own struggles acutely.  I can acknowledge and celebrate that in the past year, much has changed, and I am abundantly blessed.  I have worked very hard, and have grown, we all three have.  I’ve also had occasion...several occasions... to have my flaws and insecurities uncovered.  I have been selfish, and unthinking, and I have had my share of failures.  I am not as good at this complex, poly, triad, long-distance, juggling, communicating, handling disappointment and staying positive thing as I would like to be.

Right now, we three are battle weary.

And I feel guilty.

It is very hard, resisting the urge to backspace over those four words and hide behind the rest of them... because tonight those four words are my difficult truth.  It is how I feel. I have more hard questions than easy answers, and though I am trying to make repairs, I don’t yet see how. I see the cost to the ones I love, and my heart is breaking.  

And that part about not seeing how  is not entirely true, because I have been listening, and I know that “next time” I will do some things differently.  I have learned some things from the words and tears we’ve shared.  I don’t have all the answers, but I do have some, and I am trying, oh how I am trying. I am not the only one who is learning as we go.  We each are fallible, and battling insecurities.  We each struggle with communication, and conflicts.  We are in this together, and our love for each other makes us strong, and motivates us to do this better.  We are all trying.

But we are so weary, and sore.

I feel so very much like I can only cling to this half-built raft, and rest while a storm of life keeps blowing. I can only keep repeating that I trust the love we share, and I am sorry for the hurt I’m causing in my struggle.  I can only keep reaching out to pull closer to those I love, those who love me, and keep believing in us.  I can only remind myself, every day, several times a day, to be grateful, and say thank you, again and again and again.

Soon, I will feel stronger, and so will he and she.  Soon we will sort out how to improve our building process, and I will learn to not tear down as we go.  This I believe.  And so, I will listen, and I will give, and I will be grateful.  I will try to communicate, and to trust.  I will not close part of my my poet-heart, even a little, out of fear.  And I will learn to be stronger, and find resources to help me grow and change.  Because though I feel guilty and weary, I have been so very happy, and am learning that happy is my own responsibility.  I will reach out for help, and choose gratitude, and practice the things I’m learning until I get it right.

And this makes me feel a little better than I did when I sat down to write.  

Being a poet is a messy business.  I am not sure I do it well.  But I am willing to work for as long as it takes, to admit my failures and apologize, to change my habits, and try new solutions.  I am willing to seek wisdom outside of my circle, outside of my family.  I am willing to do the hard work, because I love my partners more than this poet can find words to express.

Thank you, Reader, for listening, and sharing my road for a while.

Looking Glass

A year passed away, and the King took another wife. She was very beautiful, but so proud and haughty that she could not bear to be surpassed in beauty by anyone. She possessed a wonderful mirror which could answer her when she stood before it and said - "Mirror, mirror upon the wall, Who is the fairest of all?"

- Snow White, Grimm’s Fairy Tales

“Let's pretend the glass has got all soft like gauze, so that we can get through. Why, it's turning into a sort of mist now, I declare! It'll be easy enough to get through--” She was up on the chimney-piece while she said this, though she hardly knew how she had got there. And certainly the glass WAS beginning to melt away, just like a bright silvery mist. In another moment Alice was through the glass, and had jumped lightly down into the Looking-glass room. - Through the Looking Glass, by Lewis Carroll (Chapter 1)

Mirror, mirror upon the wall...

Oh, wait. Wrong fairy tale.

For some reason I identify more readily with the girl in Lewis Carroll’s tales.

“I don't understand you," said Alice. "It's dreadfully confusing!"
"That's the effect of living backwards," the Queen said kindly: "it always makes one a little giddy at first." - Through the Looking Glass, by Lewis Carroll, (Chapter 5)

You may know her best from her adventures in Wonderland, where she was curiouser and curiouser, quite imaginative, overly polite, a bit mischievous, often brave and far too gullible. In the Looking Glass story, her imagination opens the mirror over the mantle and she slips through into a backwards, opposite, nonsensical world.

I’ve been fascinated with that opposite side of a mirror for quite some time, perhaps since I was a very small girl. In the past few years, I’ve been that girl chasing the rabbit, falling down the rabbit hole, wandering in a world that was magical and unbelievable, frightening and fantastic. And in the recent months, I’ve had several magical encounters with mirrors that weeks later still hold my attention, fast.

Shepherd has been consistently good about being my mirror, he reminds me who I am and what I want, he celebrates me. Husband is beginning to be a sort of mirror for me too, he is seeing me differently, and I catch an occasional glimpse in his eyes, even the Dragonfly Girl is beginning to be a mirror for me of what it’s like for someone else to love Shepherd as I do. She loves me too, and that’s too magical for words yet. Recently we spent another weekend together, She, Shepherd and I, and at one point in the hotel room, the three of us met in crossing before the mirror, and embraced one another. The love I saw in the reflection filled me with wonder, and so many of the fears and insecurities built up over the past months melted away. In that mirror that keeps reflecting me, I see a woman who is valued, loved and wanted. I am surrounded by love, and I truly believe that feeling that love, seeing that love, trusting that love on the inside, makes me more beautiful on the outside.

There’s more though; isn’t there always?

I’m growing, changing. It’s not just about the emotional growth, though for me that’s a huge part of it lately. I am also changing as a person, in terms of what I like, what I enjoy. I recently stood before a mirror for a scene with Sir. I was restrained, I was beribboned, and I my eyes were wide with a mixture of adrenaline and wonder while he traced my flesh with the blade of a knife. I watched the light glint off of the blade in that glass reflection. I watched my breathing quicken, then stop, then spill out in a rush. I watched his hands, steady and slow, a matching glint in his eyes, and the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. I watched that same smile draw gently at my lips. It was a strange and wonderful thing to both feel our energy, and watch it reflected in the mirror, as though through an outsider’s eyes. I saw many thing that night in Sir, that did not really surprise me. I saw in him love and desire, and the hunger of the Wolf I know. I saw in me something fairly new. I’m not sure it’s a surprise, but it is a change. It’s the evidence that I’ve grown and am learning myself better. I saw a woman more comfortable in my ‘wild’ skin than I’ve ever been, more sure of what she wants, what her appetites are, and what she might want to explore in the future.

Mirror, Mirror upon the wall...

I used to avoid mirrors. I didn’t like the reflection I saw there. It confused me, it disappointed me, it didn’t fit with who or what I thought I wanted to be, needed to be, to find my happiness. But I’ve learned from the me I see reflected in the eyes of those who really see and celebrate me. I am lovely. I am alluring, attractive, and appealing. I am sexy, and good and real. Sometimes I gaze for long moments into the eyes of that pretty, awkward, giddy girl staring back at me. We share a secret, she and I. It’s there, twinkling in her eyes and tugging at the corner of her smile. Sometimes she simply nods back at me, “I know... soon.” Other times, she smirks mischievously, and crooks her finger, inviting me to escape into the magical world on her side of the glass.

There really is a wonderland, on the other side of that mirror, where this Poet is loved and celebrated for being emotional, creative, passionate and polyamorous. There is a place filled with twisted and kinky fun and incredibly spiritual and moving power-exchange. There is a family there waiting, my family who loves me, wants me, and can’t wait to see me again. And when I do escape to their world, they will play and cuddle and tease and love me. They will honor me, include me, and celebrate me. They will bundle me up in love and send me back to this world when it’s time, filled with all the memories and knowledge of their love. And they honor every part of who I am in this world, mother, wife, daughter, sister...they love the girl on both sides of the mirror.

And you know what? So do I.

Into the Dark and Darker Woods

This post is a response to Sir Lostpup Grey Shepherd

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

-Robert Frost


Into your darkest corner, you are safe in my love, you are protected.
I am the openess you seek, I am your doorway.
Come sit in the circular temple of my heart, & let yourself be calm.
-Agapi Stassinopoulos


There is pleasure in the pathless woods...

-George Byron

Darkness soothed. It softened the sharp edges of the world, toned down the too-harsh colors. With the coming of twilight, the sky seemed to recede; the universe expanded. The night was bigger than the day, and in its realm, life seemed to have more possibilities.-Dean Koontz, Midnight


“I trust only you and the dark always to look at me so honestly.”
-Meredith Duran, Wicked Becomes You

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Who am I?

I am a poet-girl with a raven spirit, who flew headlong into the sky, to find my freedom, and meet myself. I am a grateful dreamer, a child-of-the-wild-blue-yonder, with a big, roomy heart, and a hunger to know and love. I am both strong and weak, young and mature, confident and insecure, graceful and awkward, woman and child. I am a girl who at nineteen, found myself in the middle of an unplanned pregnancy, and spent the next two decades serving my family as mother, educator, wife and friend.

I loved that life, and chose it on purpose. I love my husband, children, grandchildren, and the life we've made. Yet, when my babies were grown and my life became my own again, I needed to stretch my wings and find the path that had always been mine alone. I have been trying to mind my steps and be thoughtful about where they lead me ever since.



I think I have always been a poly girl, though I did not always know it was possible to be so, nor did I have the words to describe or label what it meant. My heart craves people. I am fascinated with their stories, their lives, their emotions and their reasonings. I ache to know and be known. Being invited into someone's heart and their inner world feeds my heart in ways this word-girl can't even begin yet to describe. This journey to find others who crave what I do, has been rocky thus far. The path has been rough. I've been wounded and bruised and have had to learn to heal and be tough.

Enter the Wolf.

One day I decided it was time to go hunting. I felt alone, and alien, and my experiences with loving more than one had been so very painful. I knew I needed more, and so I went into the woods to find like minded beings who understood my need to know and be known. I found Him, and perhaps He was also hunting for me, and my life is forever changed.

He is not what you might expect. He's a Wolf and a Shepherd, fierce and gentle, dark and light, sadistic and loving, simple and complex. He works harder than any man I've ever met at loving those who are His pack. He makes mistakes, and makes amends, and He gets it right.  He fights for me. He is the man I trust with every part of who I am, and He celebrates me fully. He loves my darkness. He is my Wolf and my haven. He lives by the promise to hurt but do no harm. He includes me in his pack.

He includes me.

        I am welcome.
               I am wanted.
                          I belong.
I am at home in His woods, they are mine.



When the civilized world -- where darkness is a diversion locked away in boxes -- becomes too loud, too demanding too much to bear, I know I can come home to His woods and find that I have a place. There is a space in His heart and world only I can fill. I can escape to Him, and find my peace, my center, myself.

And so, I look to the future - into a new year - into a long life in His heart and at His side, and I know I belong to Him. He owns me, has earned my trust, and I am His ink-smudged poet-girl with the heart of a raven.  At his invitation, I will keep exploring. I will fly, I will hunt and play. I will grow and live and inspire words and wonder and the flight of others.

At the same time, I will forever be bound to His heart and life. Soon I will wear his collar, I will be tethered to Him as a bird to her Falconer, trusting Him to train me, care for me, protect me and love me. I hope to always make Him proud and happy He invited me in.

As he said, you are welcome in our forest. I know there are other girls out there like me, who long to find themselves in the dark and darker woods. I hope if you are that sort of girl, and you are reading here, you will be encouraged by my journey. There is a great big, off-the-beaten-path place for me, and for you. I hope you won't stop searching until you find it.

And mind your feathers and feet,

Confession

I have a confession to make:

I've been silent for far too long.

You see, I started this blog, and the others to chronicle a journey - my journey, and when the road got really, really tough, I stopped writing about it. The point of writing in the first place is to help me process, to show me where I'm headed, to keep me from losing my way. The second point of writing is that, for some strange reason there always seems to be someone asking me for advice... about loving more than one, about embracing your own darkness, about relationships and journeys in general. I don't know why god or the universe, or fate brings people to me with questions. I don't think it's because I know all that much. I rather think it's because there are so many questions, and I am usually transparent enough to say I'm stumbling my way through my life with questions galore.

At any rate, when I lost my way, and got caught in a downward spiral, I stopped sharing my journey.

I wish I hadn't.

I don't want to spend too much time on the negative, but if you're reading here, I don't want you to think my life, and the road I've chosen is always wonderful. I don't float through my world chasing lovers and getting all the kinky play and sex I can handle without ever screwing things up, or getting lost, hurt, taken advantage of, or being misunderstood. I don't do everything right, and I certainly don't fail to deal out a fair share of pain and frustration to others, though I wish I never hurt anyone.

In the past nine months, I've fallen in love, given my heart, trusted.
I've been wounded, depressed, despondent.
I've been welcomed, accepted and loved.
I've been childish, afraid, and repentant.

I've risked greatly by opening my heart and life to women who are loved by the men I love. At times that has been so frightening I felt backed into a corner, fighting like a cat, with claws and terror.... and the result is I've hurt some of the women, and in turn, the men I love most. My insecurity has been a bitch, and I have spent several weeks looking hard in the mirror, taking responsibility for the pain and depression and frustration I've been living, and causing for others.

Don't get me wrong, I don't have a martyr complex. But the bottom line is that my happiness is my responsibility.

In terms of the women... three of five have proven to be human. Real. Strong. Amazing. Giving and accepting of my fucked-up attempts to keep my footing. It's strange to realize just now that those three, are all loved by my Shepherd. I think it says something about him, that they are so amazing. It may well say something about me, too. For I have no doubt that I am loved by him, and by these three women as well. I am grateful to be counted in such company.

As for the two who have proven otherwise, each simply decided she could not face me, and could not share. One did so honestly, and is now no longer in a relationship with Husband. I am sorry about that, but bear her no real ill-will. She has to seek what makes her happy. I am watching to make sure she does so in a way that honors Husband.

The remaining woman, I trusted too much. When I began to uncover her lies to me, to Poet and to others, it was too late, the damage was done. I stopped trying to figure out what were truths and what were lies with her, weeks ago, and simply limped away.

I am more guarded than ever with women now. I hope I am not always, though.

In terms of the men... I find my circle of lovers smaller today than it was six months ago. In addition, I carry the scars of those who chose to leave. I have lost a play partner perhaps due to something as simple as scheduling issues. I have lost my young Poet because he chose to stop communicating with me, with no explanation as to why.

I do not stop loving, just because someone decides their life is too full, too complicated, too unhappy for me. I admit freely, that I am still mourning. I especially miss the passion we shared for language, verse, beauty and romance. I believed in him. I still do. I still love him, and probably always will. And yet, today, I accept that he has made the only choice he could. Perhaps someday he might trust me as a friend. Perhaps that door is forever closed. But I cannot continue to lie on the floor outside of that door, waiting. I must live.

I stand in front of the mirror today, and I can still see the scars.
Someday even the scars will be beautiful, and perhaps they already are.
I know at least that I am alive, healing, and stronger.
And I am loved.
Wanted.

Yes, today has been about confessing that I am weak, and messy and have recently been extremely fucked up.

But there is more:

I am strong.
I am beautiful in my brokenness and in my strength.
I am imperfect.
I am willing to be transparent, in case someone else is looking to me for direction.
I don't know the answers, but I do know that this life I've chosen is the one I want.

I only hope I earn the good I've gained so far.

This is a cross post on the Kink and Poly blogs.

The Morning After

the sunlight wakes me
traces its fingers across my brow
I open my eyes
and the world is surreal.
Yesterday broke open,
and I emerged
feeling like a baby bird
who had only ever known this broken shell
wings still damp and untested
unsure and shaking with wonder and uncertainty
yet, a new wind blows
a gentle warm breath to lift me
and I tremble...dare to fly

-- For my Sir Poet, and my Sister, His Other Love

It's a Messy Business!

"Birth is the sudden opening of a window, through which you look out upon a stupendous prospect. For what has happened? A miracle. You have exchanged nothing for the possibility of everything."
~Willie Dixon
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"There is an electric fire in human nature tending to purify - so that among these human creatures there is continually some birth of new heroism. The pity is that we must wonder at it, as we should at finding a pearl in rubbish."

~John Keats
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"We are not born all at once, but by bits. The body first, and the spirit later; and the birth and growth of the spirit, in those who are attentive to their own inner life, are slow and exceedingly painful."
~Mary Antin
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"We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another, unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, of fix us in the present. We are made of layers, cells, constellations."
-The Diary of Anaïs Nin Vol. 4 (1971)

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He said to me, “Baby, imagine being invited to witness the birth of a most incredible, beautiful creature you can imagine. That’s what it’s like to have you in my life.”

I wrote a post back in April about rebirth that began with the above line.

I've given birth four times.  I've been a witness to births that were not my own children at least four times. 

You'd think I'd understand that though it's an amazing process, it's messy.  I've spent the past several months crying, yelling and pouting.  I've negotiated, I've whined, I've been an emotional wreck.  Granted, I've had upsets in my career, my family life, and have faced physical issues.  But my emotional outbursts have involved my relationships with The Husband, The Shepherd and The Poet.  

Here's the thing.  Things have been changing.  With every relationship I'm in, there's been the addition of another relationship - meaning each man has another woman in his life besides me.  I'm working really hard to be happy for them. I am honestly glad.  But, more people means less time.  It's just the reality of poly relationships.  Of course, there are also other factors, life gets busy.  But I have been really struggling. not with feeling threatened, but with coming to terms with the fact that each of the men in my life have someone local who gets to spend a great deal of time with them.  For the two that are not my husband, these women get to spend more time, only have to drive across town, and that is hard for me, because I am envious.  

I've not been very good about handling my emotions, expressing them, or adjusting to the changes, even the minor ones, in schedules.  And still, these men are patient with me.  The do stand up to me and say, "You need to figure out what's going on with you.  You need to communicate like an adult."  But they also remind me that I need to give myself a break.

Rebirth can be messy.  Growing can be complicated.  Insecurities can be tough.

But I am loved, and pushed to grow, and wanted by three amazing men who want a ringside seat.  I am very lucky.

So, let's get messy.  I have some change to go through.