Friends of Bill W.

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 23

PRIDE GOETH BEFORE A FALL


In truth, pride goes wherever it wants, it’s pride. Pride wanders alone, for no one enjoys its company. Pride travels far but gets nowhere. Pride rises above reality and seeps beneath the surface. When pride wears out, love and honesty poke holes in it until it is grounded and transforms to humility. Pride’s past is remembered with flush and embarrassment. Recounting yesterday is pride’s unenviable task. Keeping it from recreation is mine.


Dress yourself with love.

*
No Mickey Mouse


The Wonderful World of Disney
belonged to normal children;
kids with Sunday nights
and not the tear filled screaming
which punctuated my weekends.

I had no time for the creative melodrama
built to add interest into the dull little lives
of safe little ones, there is no Disney for me;
no clean pasteled figures frolicking.

I know only the freshened wit of the wizened rabbit
and the frenetic slamming of that distorted duck;
these are there for me.
Teaching me the dark humor of the life I lead;

Preparing me to laugh at M*A*S*H,
yet still never cluing me to the fact
that Carroll O’Connor was only teasing,
so still I cried to hear his rants,

But the dry irony of Hawkeye,
war and blood, those I got.
I was carefully led there by the Merry Melodies.




Vlog: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R7AIC...ature=youtu.be

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

[LeftWriteFemme]

November 28

NAVY DUCK

When the postcard is hung upside down the plane flies away on its back. I know one of those irregular days with the disposition of a bee-stung mule is on its way to visit me. I have found diplomacy goes a long way and when it runs out, humor is the best fallback, nothing mean or sophomoric, but the ability to laugh is a fortune in the face of a bankrupt day. When the sun sets on these spare and harrowing days, I mortgage strength from tomorrow and right the picture then try to fly right.


Plod when you can’t skip.

*
The Twelfth of April


When I met you,
you were a power tagged and trapped in a box.
A tiger caught by its toe and yet I could do nothing
but fall under the spell of your roar.

The suppressed growl you leave for me
like an invitation I could never decline.
I write to you a note of explanation;
words testifying to my desire,
which I promise to hold back out of respect for you.

And a wish to survive my drive toward you
and your furious stripes and claws.
Your bite which I long to feel,
yet know I must not ask for.

When I inquire if you have read,
you say with sanguine smile, “Read it to me.”
When I am done and with tear stained face,
all you reply is,
“I have lost my taste for anyone but you.”



Vlog: http://youtu.be/BErwEM4t6Hw

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault