The sunflowers reach for the sun
they don’t know that the summer…
the summer is done.
Still bursting with tiny, green, closed buds
and the mother plant proudly presenting
the huge yellow sunflowers that I love.
It will only take one frosty night
and then my beautiful sunflowers
you will no longer be mine.
To the ground, to the ground
sunflower petals and seeds will fall
but I know…I know you will come back
shooting up in the spring, then
once more my sunflowers
you will be mine
until the first frost of fall.
It’s so sad when summer goes away.
I thought if my love was strong enough
Maybe this time she would stay.
So, I chased the sunshine
I kissed the sunflowers
I danced with honeybees
I nurtured wildflowers.
I ran with the butterflies
I played in the sunshine
For hours and hours and hours.
I grew daisies and vegetables
And embraced the sun showers.
I woke each morning and chased the day
Then followed the sun’s departure
As daylight slowly drifted away.
I loved this summer like it was my first,
my last and everything in-between
and when the snow covers my windows
I’ll close my eyes and I’ll dream…
I’ll dream of summer.
You let me cook
You let me clean
I wash our clothes
I sweep up my dreams.
You let me shop
You let me sew
I have it all
Computers, books and clothes.
You don’t let me
See how you feel
You don’t let me near
Any part of you that’s real.
You don’t let me
Close in our
King size bed
I rebel, but only inside my head.
You don’t let me
Love you
I don’t know why
I know one day, I won’t even try.
5-8-13
Lost in love
what is my name
I am you
and you are me
we are the same.
Lost in love
no one is here
to answer the phone
the banging on the door
lost in love, lost in love
but love, love doesn’t
live here anymore.
Have you ever noticed
when something triggers your sad
it seems to pull back the layers
of all the sads you buried
and a dozen old sads rise up in defiance
shouting out, What about me?
I’m still here. Look at me.
You buried me, you pushed me down,
but I’m still aching, what about me?
Shut up old sads.
You don’t belong here, not today.
I have enough to be sad about
in this present moment and
I don’t need a dozen selfish
old sads rising up in rebellion.
Go back to sleep old sads, hush.
You’ve already had your day.
I could give up cigarettes, coffee, sugar,
chocolate and probably even salt.
I could never let go of your memory
it’s locked securely in a hidden vault.
Yet, longings escape
like pink whispers
memories haunt me
old scars burn as
your caress lingers
lips tender on my skin
kissing the curve of my face
as you slow dance me
until you win my heart
just to walk away.
A fantasy fulfilled, too hot to hold
it dropped from my burnt fingers.
The way you made me feel, my kryptonite.
The dance ended, but the music lingers.
The breeze in my face is sweet
and it tastes like the ocean in my lungs
although it’s not.
Then again, it really is because
that’s what it tastes like to me.
Freedom is a wildflower growing
where ever the wind blows her seeds,
in a garden or in an empty field.
Freedom tastes like the ocean
and looks like wildflowers
and freedom…she dances
with the confidence of seventeen.
Jeanne Marie, 2019
I looked in the mirror this morning
and the woman who once loved you
looked back at me.
I thought she died.
I tried to kill her literally, emotionally
and in every way possible because
I don’t want love that hurts.
I looked in the mirror this morning
and the woman who once loved you
looked back at me.
She’s still alive.
This was six years ago and my daughter has been sober and free for over four years. Praise God. Looking back from then to now is a thrill and a chill. Amen.
I publish tons of personal stuff on my blog, but I wasn’t going to write about my thirty-nine year-old daughter going to prison, not because I’m ashamed of her, but because the hurt is so enormous.
I have made mistakes. Some that will haunt me until the day I die. Everyone makes mistakes. We all pay for our mistakes too, whether it’s through Karma, prison, divorce, broken hearts, family members who never speak to us again or whatever. You don’t have to wait for an official Judgment Day.
I believe that every day on Earth is Karma’s Judgment Day.
My heart has been sliced, diced and pureed, but much of it I can blame on myself and my bad decisions, decisions made from fear and insecurity.
And just when I think that I have bottomed out on heartbreaks, my middle child, who has also made bad choices, gets herself in enough…
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Imagine a world
where the flowers are blue
the sky is Cinderella pink
and your heart is brand new.
Heart never been broken
never kicked to the ground
a home built on rainbows…
awesome flowers surround.
Tears are never shed and
willow trees do not weep
when you close your eyes…
your soul He does keep.
Imagine a world
minus cursing and screams
imagine a world
where kindness beats mean.
Rose colored angels
waltz through your dreams
while dainty butterflies dance
on clouds of whipped cream.
Imagine…
Words & Pictures: Jeanne Marie, 2014
It’s been a little over a year, and the very thought of this little girl can still make me cry…
There is never enough time to give all the love you have to anyone. There is never enough time.
I have loved this little dog with all my heart since the day we got her from the shelter in Orlando.
But somehow, it doesn’t feel like enough.
I want to give her more love before she goes, but we’re out of time.
There is never enough time.
Maybe that’s why God gave us dogs, so we could practice grieving the loss of what we love so much, so that when we lose people, we have already had a glimpse of what it’s going to feel like.
We already know what a broken heart is, before we are knocked out of our orbit by losing a person we love.
That’s the only reason I can think of why dogs have a short life, why they usually go before us.
I know…
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Let’s not fight when the sun goes down and the shades are drawn.
Wouldn’t you rather call back the tender fury, the passion that we once wore?
Time was on our side and ever so trusting I gave me to you
only to be lost, a forlorn girl standing on the edge of nevermore.
Drew back the covers, flesh ablaze, unashamed, nothing to hide,
fell in love, lost my head, I was so sure.
Recreate the euphoria of that first night, devouring each other
between the worn cotton sheets on my antique bed.
Use your fingertips to chase away the years of struggling
the hurt and the anger that screams wild as savage beasts inside our heads.
Play make-believe, pretend that it’s yesterday
and the bitter deeds did not destroy the tenderness instead.
Pursue me like there’s no tomorrow because I can not see beyond today
then, when tomorrow comes…
I promise to set you free, stand on my own two feet, find my own way.
Hands could caress, bodies could recreate, satisfy this insane yearning
as you travel back with me, waltz me back through past’s gate.
Touch my soul once more with longing and desire, force the winds of change
to stand stationary while you re-ignite my skin’s desire.
What would I give to travel back and never have been betrayed?
I scarce remember when there were no walls
and I did not know how to be afraid.
Perhaps tonight you could help me to forget to remember if I promise that
I won’t run away when the dawn comes, I won’t run away. No…not yet.
We could try, one more time, again. What could we lose, what could we win?
Cradle me in your arms and recapture me with reckless hunger,
pretend thirty years have not transpired.
It would be so easy because fingertips have no memories and
they don’t know how to hate, they will pursue passion’s flagrant fire
unlike a broken heart which hesitates.
No movement forward from here so we could journey back to then
before the illusions were shattered and we could try, one more time, again.
One more time again, as if you read my mind.
Still, the heat that rises in my loins concedes to grief, collapses beneath regret
too wise to be enchanted, too stupid to forget.
Good-bye. No, wait…not yet. Maybe we could try…one more time, again.
He came to her windowsill
Come play! Come fly!
She tiptoed to the edge
Brave, with one jump
Into his arms she dived.
Peter, I am old.
It doesn’t matter
He whispered,
You’re the only woman
I’ll ever hold.
Straight on till morning,
And then she woke.
Peter was her past
Old age, nature’s joke.
The Princess was sitting in her castle and she swore no man would she let woo.
She turned them all away as she said, no, not you, not you, not you, to myself I will be true.
She danced with her butterflies, she twirled in her flower gardens like when she was two.
She whispered to her flowers, confessing, I love you and you and you.
So happy was this woman that she vowed never to wed and then a Knight in dazzling armor appeared at the castle gates, the sun shining on his head.
She was blinded by his beauty, aura like spun gold and this one Knight she invited to her bed, visions of together growing old.
Prince Charming was his name and wow, that man tickled her fancy with his soft kiss and even if he just walked by, she would stumble and a step she would miss.
Well…
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She used to climb apple trees
with fearless abandon
never worried how she’d get down.
She used to run in fields of grass
without a care in the world.
She used to hide in the flowers
inhaling the nectar
never fearing a sting.
I’d like to invite that girl
to come out to play.
I’d like to reclaim her
travel the path back
to that courageous girl
she who once lived free.
Love me like this…
I still want him.
I want the first night when we slept in each other’s arms,
legs wrapped around each other.
I want the first kiss, the slow dances, the first time.
I want it all.
I want the weeks before we made love, the anticipation.
I want his soft words and his rough hands.
I want to feel his wrists on mine, holding my arms down, as he makes love to me through my clothes.
I want his cocky smile that promises me that we will always feel this rawness, this intensity, even though it’s a lie.
I want to sit on his lap while he rocks us to sleep.
I want to see me through his eyes again, to feel young and sexy and wild.
I want his cutoff tee shirts thrown on my bed, his dirty work boots by my door.
I still want him.
Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie 
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