Sunday, October 21, 2018

Nomadic nights

fingers splintering on bare wood the night, eyes closed ~ except through


fingers splintering on bare wood
the night, eyes closed ~ except through
my third eye, the centre of my brows

early hours are silent, bar the tinkering
ivories that draws me from unconscious sleep
dreams will not be ReMembered
when I wake yet still I wonder

violins draw close, like moths
fluttering, movement; bow on strings
music helps my flight, as I drift or am I deep
in slumber now

wings circle overhead escaping from the birds
hush morning do not come to soon
I am in the woods, a far off place
morning will enter, UNknowingly disturb

spin… SPin hallucinating?
rest, tortuous circles upon the pillow
REALity or not, dreams, nightmare
bring me back to violins and
the black and white

so that I may rest tonight

About the Writer

I am the Author of The Empty Nest- A Mother's Hidden Grief. (EPub) This is available through Lulu and Amazon. The memoir is the story of my life as a mother, with an emphasis on the unspoken grief, which accompanies the process of letting go of one’s children as they grow up. As much as a mother loves her children, she must endure, at many stages of their growth, the pain of losing them. The inevitable “cutting of the ties” culminates when the day arrives for her children to leave home. For many women, this time coincides with profound personal changes of menopause and fiftieth birthdays. My own recent experience of this process prompted me to revisit my life as a mother, and to delve into the journals which I had kept since I was pregnant with my two daughters, some twenty years ago. The journals reveal the learning curves of motherhood and I was able to use this material to form both the chronological backbone of the memoir, and to expose the “heart” of the story in the touching and personal moments that I had recorded. Here are the links if you are interested.
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4 comments on Nomadic nights

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By Credo on September 09, 2013 at 02:16 pm

Powerful poetry, excellent symmetric symbolism..."Nomadic Nights":) wandering nights would make it difficult for anyone to get a restful sleep.


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By JennyT on September 09, 2013 at 05:36 pm

Thank you so much for reading Credo. Yes those night when my brain is like a washing machine, stuck on the spin cycle.


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By Uttam Gill on September 10, 2013 at 08:20 am

Jenny, In your poem I feel the silence and its intricate presence, though you keep the restlessness at focus but somewhere between the lines I read your intense relation with music…and that’s where I pick up the chord that amidst all chaotic turbulence there exist a part in you which sustains hope…Beautifully written…

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By JennyT on September 10, 2013 at 08:25 am

Hello Uttam - thanks for the read, yes amidst the turbulence of a restless night, indeed I try to focus on music as that centers my focus, in place of the my brain doing the spin cycle over and over. Appreciated your kindess and your insight into my words - thank you.

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