The Poem “Just”? 


Hey dear ones… Has anyone read “Just“? It’s posted a day or so ago… Not a like or comment… Does it suck? Is the homophone play just too much?

I’m curious, cus this was birthed in that lil flurry of poems regarding time… But just was not singing enough… Until I saw a tie to time and diminishment and justice cutting up and down that continuum…

You can take out the word just… And it limps along off-balance… A commentary in itself…

A Lasting Awareness

5846cd67170000eb01e7e03a

Past,
present,
and future…
all immediate…
in me at
once

there
simultaneous…
at (in) the (a)
same time (place)

time is this
impression:                         (or is not time)

a lasting awareness
of one’s self moving
in a sea of selves,
dependent yet alone.

time matters precisely
because it ends
and yet is
still
there
d8261109aaec9650edbc62ff06396b75

Taking Apart A Ship

Time is like a ship of planks
constructed to cross an ocean
from shore to shore across
those waves so furiously
expansive and endlessly
arriving
away

from us
tumblr_nynhirO8qB1s4umuxo1_1280
Telling time is like taking apart a ship
and using the planks to build a ship
for someone else building a ship

across time
just in time
out of time…

Out of time…what is that, really?
Actually, I meant to ask where is that
really, no, it’s who
tumblr_n00ze1diHD1qgvdcto1_r1_1280
Who is spoken out of time
spoken and inhabited, there
in that place walking in wilderness
when an invisible voice speaks to ask

“Who are you?”

“I will always be me…always.”

Ah, and how long is that
how long is that?
tumblr_nypcxpjp9y1tfhci9o1_1280

A Sylvan Sound So Sleek

Sit quietly
Close your eyes
Like one who wakes
from a long sleep
a com(m)a

Listen to the
trickle of time it’s
a sylvan sound so sleek
tumblr_nnm44wogdu1s4uwt4o1_1280
and flowing around you over
you and below you, above
you and in you and
in you and in
you in time

Open your eyes
Look up into
a clear sky
tumblr_nlmxn1eUxf1sjcg5bo3_r1_250
Try to see just
How high or deep
is a hundred feet
or a mile long

It’s just you in time
(you know) and time
in you (know time)

and never the twain
shall meet or part
cd39cf0ce17b5e02114eb09a55a4ecea

If Winter Really Comes

whatever
hour or
minute

this is

how it feels
to inhabit time
tumblr_oiae9bix6x1trdezwo1_1280
swift
creakly
slick
deeply
intimate
infusing
every slippery word
or graceful gesture

light and darkness
make their sound
and give birth to time
and time and time
tumblr_ohjfm4p9vl1r8p8zjo1_1280
just flies away,
just passes by,
just exists (no) more

that’s what time is now
that’s how little time
I have to do all
the things I am
thinking about

if winter
really
comes.
tumblr_mvckw85ccs1s6c3zho1_500

I Tell Time

Some nights seem slippery,
more than I like, lately
maddeningly abstract
yet deeply intimate,
infusing every
word and gesture…

and breath
tumblr_oibb7lrpii1qas1mto3_1280
I wake to the sound
of dark, without detail
underanemptysky

or maybe
underground,
in a cavern or
falling thru space
tumblr_oi9td3lpc81s5neh1o2_540
I might be dreaming
I could be dead.

Time moves one direction
but I move all directions
and take time with me

I tell time
tumblr_oi9zdhidkw1s5neh1o1_500

What I Wish Every Person Knew

…this would transform the world.

It is the hardest thing for me…ever…to not hear from loved ones, and then get a dashed off note with the word “sorry” (not even “I am sorry”), and a line of sandwich filler, and a conclusion of “love you” (writing “I love you” takes too long).

Saving time and all…for what?  Where is all that time saved?  In a bank somewhere drawing interest?

No…it is spent…everyday.

Every.  Last.  Red.  Cent.  Second.

Ticks and tricks…tickles and trickles thru your will and then your heart…

…and finally your fingers to lay there at your feet as the record of what you did and what you did not do.

Charissa is regularly labeled wordy…of generating too much content…of putting too much out there to be dealt with or responded to…

but I guess that’s just how I roll…cus time.  Fading.  Flowing…flying away and done too soon. And I want to give everything I have to give…especially my time.

Do Justice.  Love Mercy.  Walk Humbly

An Open Letter About Time

I do not dare add any of my thoughts to this…Dani, you know why, Sis…you know why.

Sooo glad you did not experience the ultimate and have been given this opportunity to invest in this thing made new, old things having passed away.

Much, MUCH love…Charissa

bloomingspiders

Moon_pic monkey

Dearest Reader,

I received a call four days ago. It was one of those calls; the kind that even the phone knows is bad. I was told my father couldn’t speak or move. He had been found that way. “The ambulance is on its way”, she said. “We’ll call once we have more information”.

In the car, I looked through my phone and changed my background to one of him and I. Then I went and listened to my voicemail. The most recent one was him saying “You never answer” then a click. I couldn’t move–couldn’t breathe really–and began thinking: What was it he said again?  I take what money and put it where?  And where are those documents? And then I call whom?

I thought of the little black dress I had bought months ago. The one I was supposed to return, but didn’t. I thought about how scared…

View original post 1,199 more words

Agree? Disagree? 3rd Opinion?

Hi Constance…as I know all you wonderful people are busy, as am I, this item really caught my eye and then tugged at my heart afterwards…that word renunciation grabbed me and really brought me a lot of conviction.

If you would, check it out, think on it, and tell me if you agree or not!

Blessings, Charissa

Being too busy can be a form of laziness. Be sure to prioritize your time around the things that matter most to you. Effective time management centers around using this very moment to be fully open to our purpose and renouncing all that distracts us from it.

“Being too busy can be a form of laziness.
Be sure to prioritize your time around the things that matter most to you.
Effective time management centers around using this very moment to be fully open to our purpose and renouncing all that distracts us from it.”

Advent Poem: The Season of Redeeming Time

I’m surprised by the passing of time
it waves as it dances along
and leaves me here on this bench in the park
with astonishment gripping my heart.

Time will never simply pass by
without engraving its mark
in a stab to my heart or a tender sweet touch
or a mortal wound bleeding and dark.

And I think of the birth of a child
who will dance with time in ignorance
and get lost in occasions of beauty and joy
and its happy and frolicking lark.

But time walks away without caring
as it always has, does, and will do
and that’s when the child sees the back-side of time
as it passes austere, tall and stark.

The back-side of time is a window
to somewhere beyond time’s long reach
So I follow, and run after fleet-footed time
as it swims like a quick-silver shark.

But time just leaves me for dead.
Tell me, why is this such an outrage?
This act of irreverence, indifference unfeigned
in every crude step of time’s arc.

But I know a secret inside
the heart of my heart: come, and listen!
Proud hungry time is caught up in hubris
So I laugh, on this bench in the park.

tumblr_lxtxpwQB5y1qku3fuo1_1280