Life Through The Eyes of Stacy

I am the kind of writer who's creative juices can be brought on by simply putting a pen to paper or seeing the way the sunlight bounces off an object and sends fingers of light across the ground. Often I will look at random words to start my pen moving. While reading a magazine the other day I found myself cutting individual words with scissors. Then today I put these very limited words together with my imagination onto paper. While the outcome was not my best poem and it did lack the images I try to create, it was fun to do and it made me come up with a positive message. I included a picture of it but the words were too small to read so I will post the poem below... What Is Success? What Is The Answer? Searching for Success. Feeling the skin, body and the heart  of today. Invite life in! Swing every mood, the mess and the misery and heal finally. Help, connect, give~ knowing without reason you're real. Live every wish out, never be content with small. Fi...

I want to live...Not because of what I have in my life-all that is safe and secure- but to spite it. I don't need possessions to fill the loneliness in me when its people and memories that can overflow every empty space ...I want to embrace obstacles with curiosity and a fight inside of me only letting fear drive me forward. I want to breathe every word, even those unsaid, and feel each raw emotio n without apologizing to those who want me to deny everything that is uncomfortable for them. I want to forgive those people who have let me down and know that somewhere inside they are hurting,striving and fighting too.I don't want to make excuses for them but instead give them the understanding that I would want. I want to run toward each storm and not turn away just because what might be there may be frightening or pose a possibility of failure. I want to wake from this coma, this excuse for a life, and finally live. I want to be me again, free from this hold fear has over me.

I like my time to myself. There isn't the need to be polite or worry about if I am doing what is expected of me. I can just be. Whether I want to watch t.v. or hear the radio or even sit in silence, I don't have to share. And its absolutely the time when I will wait to eat my favorite snack.  Who doesn't like to enjoy some yummy food without having to share it or worry if you look like a pig while you eat? Time to myself is when I really get my thoughts together, calm myself or pep myself up for whatever I need energy or positiveness for. Time to myself is like sleep. I get to recharge and use the time to get together all the loose ends.

After death it's a scruffy-looking, overworked E.R.doctor who speaks quiet words of "I regret to inform you" that is the beginning of your Mother's end. You think you will wake up and that it's all just a bad daydream until you see your own father cry and fall to the ground. After death questions appear like balloons, creating  more questions and life-changing answers. Your children ask if their Nana went to Heaven and what and where is this place? ....A world you hoped you'd only have to discuss over a small hamster's death or fish. Its the start of strangers asking you questions "Do you want to donate your Mother's eyes or skin?" For the life of you you cannot recall talking to her about this or if she ever mentioned organ donation to be her wish. As far as you try to pull yourself away  from this place of emotion to be there and as selfless as you want to be, you can't imagine her without those great big brown eye...

Just look at her, she has it all. Every outfit is new and stylish. Her hair always styled, her nails done and her face finished with only the best make up. She drives a new car and her phone is no older than the newest version. She wants for nothing materialistic. She works hard to have every object she owns and what she doesn't have she gets from men who "love" her. She shows no wrinkle, no ugliness on her skin. Even her plump smile is bought and paid for... Other body parts were made to order too. And the hours of day she spends at the gym will never be enough for what she expects from herself. But the world inside her is anything but perfect. The mess that is in her head and the feeling of being broken haunts her. Its why she fights the ugliness and age- She feels she has to coif, lift, make up and hold it tightly together for the world out here to see... She will not allow her body or face to betray the hard work she does to keep her secret insid...

R evolving through the years, never sure if I belonged or where or if I mattered.      As long as everyone else was happy I would swallow back the wonder of "what if".      Giving all of me, minute after minute, day after lonely day,      yet never knowing Who  I  was.      I had no feet, no arms or heart that I didn't give, lend or forsake for everyone else.    E veryone but me. I was some else's property-       His wife, their Mom, her friend, their daughter,  his and her sister.     A fool, really. There was nothing left at the end of the day for me . G iving my heart, my love, my time and my very soul...     There was hardly scraps of time or energy for me      to separate and make sense of it all.     My very heart was barren and unloved      by the very man who promised me forever. R eal, honest ...

No One Will Listen 30/30 Challenge Day 1 I am laying on a hospital bed being wheeled down to the Operating Room. I can still feel the wet kisses on my cheeks from my 2 beautiful,smiling kids and their words are at my ears like butterflies."We love you, Mom". Within seconds the nurses are busy around me, they take my name, date of birth... My religious affiliation. They check my plastic wristband and compare information. Then the anesthesia tech is there... Smiling at me through her scrubs, she tells me through a soft voice to relax as she takes a needle and injects darkness into my veins. I struggle against the lull and invitation of the thick, unwavering cloud. The sting of my eyes and the intrusion of sleep begins to take hold of me. The surgeon is counting backwards from 10 but at 9 I am already swirling away. At 8 I am pleading "Please, Don't let me die!"  But no one will listen... 7~ Maybe my lips aren't moving? I try again to mak...

 It never happened accept in my head- My romantic, overly idyllic brain. You lean in and your stark brown eyes are clouded with love for me. Your eyes searching my eyes, your tongue running over your lips imagining the taste of my mouth. Your fingers becoming tangled in my hair, as you gently take hold of my head, pulling my face to yours. Then your lips, your sweet, perfect lips pressing mine. I am closing my eyes to hold onto the moment- The secret wish- and when I open them you are gone. ~Like the smoke of a dream I can barely recall but I know it was there just seconds ago... My last, best kiss still sweetly stinging on my lips... And it never happened! Stacy J. Roosa

30/30 Poetry Challenge How do I get from here to there without a car? I did all the right things~ Paid my note, my insurance... I had a license~ Yet you, a woman who cannot even read our signs, who never bothered to take the test to drive- You decided that fateful morn to get into a car and drive it into the side of my boyfriend on his way to work.... Thank whoever that he is okay... But the black and blues you left on him and days of work he had to miss to recover are taking food from my children's mouth. Doesn't red mean stop even in your language? So, how am I supposed to get my 2 kids from here to there? You not only took my wheels but my freedom too. Now all I have is my feet and the great huge hearts of my friends who's will sometimes come and pick us up. You have your car, (well whats left of it that you didn't leave slammed into my passenger door), your lack of license and your uncaring attitude to do it all over again. How does it fe...

IT was been born of darkness back before even the earth was here. Over and over again it is born and bred. IT comes with birth in the very amniotic fluid that helps shove us into the world. IT is all that is fear. From day one, our first step, our first utterance, we live in IT, with IT, around IT and, if we are very lucky, we can escape IT. But we are always only inches away from IT.   Even in the splendor and splashes of  day light IT is always there. Its only the feverish burn of the sun that chases it beneath trees or under the eaves of a house's roof...Look, ITS even there attached to your very toes and towering over the ground. Everything IT knows, IT breathes and bleeds comes from the depths of such filth and unapologetic hatred that IT has no light to give.  And IT gives no apology for ITself. IT doesn't live without its archenemy, Hope. IT is its own enemy, and happily so.Yet it could not lie either.  IT is truth in it...