Category: Poetry

Muse in the Morning

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Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XXXIV

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Passage

Rites and Passages

(the latter years)

Isolating

Declaring

Bemoaning

Observing

Writing

Speaking

Affirming

Protecting

Finding voice

Initiating

Writing

Speaking up

Ghettoizing

Returning

Creating space

Confronting the beast

Writing

Speaking out

Helping

Representing

Taming the beast

Depicting

Moving on

Broadening

Writing

Spreading out

Identifying the larger beast

Combining

Proclaiming

Defending

Teaching

–Robyn Elaine Serven

–November 15, 2005

Muse in the Morning

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Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XXXIII

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Desert Tortoise

Survivor

When I was a small child

and life seemed so very hard

I was positive I could not survive

When things happened to me

that should happen to no child

I doubted I would survive

When the sins of my parents

were visited upon their children

I questioned whether I might survive

When I grew older, I somehow learned

to think of myself as a worthwhile person

I thought, I can survive

Faced with the cruelty of not living

in a world of my own making

I decided, I shall survive

I endured the harshest challenges

that I can imagine a life having to offer

As excruciatingly hard as it was, I survived

When life itself, cruel cellular biology

Seemed to conspire against me

Even then I did survive

Even age, that most vicious mistress

tries to slowly grind me into giving up

but I have still survived

I don’t care what life brings my way now

no matter what or who may come or go

I know that some way I will survive

–Robyn Elaine Serven

–April 28, 2006

Muse in the Morning

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Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XXXII

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Islands in the Storm

In Passing

Every year or so

I stop for a moment

grieve about the people

I met and befriended

as much as I knew how

My existence has flicked

from thought to precious thought

from spacetime to spacetime

those friends have become

painful fond memories

My life journey required

that I had to move on

though I could have settled

for the bittersweetness

and shared more time with them

–Robyn Elaine Serven

–December 19, 2006

Muse in the Morning

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Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XXXI

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Inner Light

Personal Evolution

(an unfinished poem about a life not ended)

Brief moments of awareness…

like the immersion

of a skipping shell

in the liquid

of another life.

Suppression…Submission…Denial

Insistence…Duality…Fear

Anger…Confusion…Dissociation

Coalescence of self…

the protecting shell

loses momentum,

ceases skipping,

and begins to sink.

Control…Struggle…Pain

Loss…Crisis…Acknowledgment

Hope…Death…Existence

Birth of identity…

the sinking of the shell

propels up a splash,

a pearl of dew,

which hangs suspended.

Trying…Failing…Crying

Learning…Knowing…Growing

Assimilating…Adapting…Being

Examination of soul…

while gravity stops,

the revealing lens

zooms through the wet,

uncovering layers.

Exhilaration…Disappointment…Loss

Pride…Necessity…Doubt

Honesty…Certainty…Change.

Assertion of gender…

Vibration of ego…

internal bonds break,

the mist that was dew

drifts on the wind,

scattering slowly.

Listening…Traveling…Speaking

Reading…Witnessing…Writing

Relocating…Suffering…Returning

Perusal of purpose…

catching an updraft

the mist attaches

to motes of dust

from other life paths.

Joining…Disclosing…Contributing

Attending…Despairing…Meeting

Enjoying…Loving…Committing

Analysis of life…

shifting perspective

the damp dust

provides fertile ground

for germs of wisdom

. . .

dot dot dot

–Robyn Elaine Serven

–January 17, 1997

Muse in the Morning

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Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XXX

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Up on the Roof

Rain on the Roof

The sound

of rain on the roof

reminded her

that she needed to hurry.

It wouldn’t do

to be stuck

out here alone

in the storm.

She remembered

the days of isolation…

of deprivation…

of loneliness…

those days

when the roof would leak

and the fire wouldn’t

put out enough heat

to warm

even her hands…

those days

when turning

to her neighbors

was not possible

because they universally

detested her difference.

Now they voiced

acceptance of her

and would let her visit

when the storms came.

But they still

didn’t understand

who she was

or what it meant

to be her.

They would open

their doors

during a storm,

but they still

wouldn’t help fix

the damn roof.

She was still different.

–Robyn Elaine Serven

–March, 1998.

Muse in the Morning

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Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XXIX

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Grasping

Not  exactly courage

From my old life I dangled

entangled in the lives

and expectations of others

unable to break free

or maybe too afraid

to seek emancipation

fiercely clutching the shreds

of what I thought was dignity

but it was a fiction

preferred by everyone

even though I strangled

mangled emotionally

dying inside from lying without

suspended in shame

until I lost my grip

I landed on my feet.

Many don’t.

–Robyn Elaine Serven

–January 11, 2006

Muse in the Morning

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Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XXVIII

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Bleeding

Bleeding the Colors

I have bled blood red

Three decades later than

I would have liked,

aided by a surgeon’s knife,

but I have bled blood red.

I’ve bled before,

just not that color.

It’s the shade

I was missing

in my world.

I’ve bled the sickly yellow of fear

and the desolate blue of sadness,

the empty grey of loneliness

and the worn out brown of long years

of waiting.

I’ve bled the bluish purple of pain

and the emerald green of envy,

the dark scarlet of anger

and the all-consuming black

of depression.

I’ve bled the purplegreengold

sparkles in my vision

as I fell asleep

to dream of a life that

I couldn’t live.

I’ve bled the tarnished silverpink

of a love that I thought

was real but was

an illusion/delusion

and abusive and wrong.

I’ve bled the dusky rainbows

of confusion and turmoil

and the toxic hues

of insanity and dis-ease

and death.

I’ve bled the colors

until they ceased existing

and I would have joined them,

but I finally bled

the blood red of life.

I’ve bled red twice now

and the colors are back,

sharp and crisp

and bright and airy

and joyful.

I’ve bled red twice now

and the colors are real,

and they don’t need me

to bleed them,

for I have bled blood red.

–Robyn Elaine Serven

–March, 1995

Muse in the Morning

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Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XXVII

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Question

The Questions

When people ask me

“Who are you?”

I answer honestly

“I am me.”

When they ask

“What are you?”

I say “An individual, one,

And I am whole.”

When I’m asked

“Which are you?”

I know that others decide

that for themselves.

When I hear

“Why are you?”

The why is not important

“Because I am.”

–Robyn Elaine Serven

–February, 1995

Muse in the Morning

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Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XXVI

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Mouth

The Mind’s Mouth

After the eyes

look inward

the voice must

speak outward

Introspection begets conception

Reflection instigates creation

The soul must speak

its truth

–Robyn Elaine Serven

–January 6, 2006

Muse in the Morning

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Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XXV

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Song

I Sing a Song

I sing a song of sadness

Of broken dreams and fear

I sing a song of pain

Of hopelessness and gloom

I sing a song of changes

Of remembrance and rebirth

I sing a song of life

Of exploration and growth

I sing a song of gladness

Of discovery and wonder

I sing a song of joy

Of acceptance and peace

I sing a song

–Robyn Elaine Serven

–October, 1994

Muse in the Morning

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Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XXIV

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Obstacles

Friends Along the Way

I started out on this

 road all alone

   Fear and Pain

      my only companions

         I wondered if

           I would lose myself

             The road seemed dark

               and fraught with peril

                 Til I found I had

                   Friends along the way

                       As the road wound

                         through hard terrain

                           I sometimes doubted

                             my ability to go on

                               But I fought back

                                 the Fear

                                   and worked through

                                     the Pain

                                       with the help of my

                                         Friends along the way

                                             As time passed by

                                             the road ascended

                                         Obstacles less frequent

                                      but harder to pass

                                   And at times

                                 I needed the

                               places of refuge

                             respite and care

                           offered to me by

                         Friends along the way

                     I’ve come to the crest

                   of the mountain

                 I’ve climbed

               As I look down below

             I see all of the

           barriers crossed

         the challenges I met

       and the lessons I learned

     I will never forget those

   Friends along the way

What lies over

the top of the road

 There is no

   way of knowing

     But deep in my heart

       From the depths

         of my soul

           I know that I’ll have

             The company of my

               Friends from along the way

–Robyn Elaine Serven

–July, 1994

Muse in the Morning

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Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XXIII

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Knit

Finding my Way

Life in shambles

I took a chance

spoke my piece

used my words

defended myself

everyone watching

I tore the fabric

of their reality

chipped away

at the barriers

with the sharp

blade of right

Mighty is the sword

of revelation

Relevance grows

empowering

newfound voice

E-space is a venue

where we can thrive

virtual avenues opened wide

provided a wedge

to crack open

the narrow path

I navigated

from what was

to what could be

I found a way through

I did not choose to lead

but some chose to follow

That frightened me then

and still does

–Robyn Elaine Serven

–January 18, 2006

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