Tag: jeanne marie

Deadly Friend

A young girl picks up a drink
Her fear and pain melts away,
She found a magic cure
She found a best friend today.
She takes that friend with her
Where ever she has to be,
The friend gets her through,
But she’s no longer free.
Hiding her new friend from the rest
It’s true, somehow she always knows,
That this friend is dangerous
But caution, to the wind it goes.
Years slip by, and some begin to see
That she prefers this friend,
People criticize her drinking
And other friendships end.
The bottle becomes her center
It directs her every move,
But what once brought her relief
No longer seems to soothe.
The friend who helped her through
Now cripples, and blinds her sight,
Alone she drinks and she cries
Dreading tomorrow, hating tonight.
She gave up all her friends
To keep the brown liquid close,
Now she has lost them all
Betrayed by what she trusted most.
She reaches out to God
During a desperately lonely hour,
He sends her back His love
He fills her with His power.
She ends the deadly friendship
Stands strong and free again,
The black fog begins to lift, and
Sobriety is one fight, she does win.

Jeanne Marie, 1979

 

The Last Rose

1989

You Say

1989

Would I?

1989

My Son

rickftball

 

If love hurts…

Roses are my favorite, 1989

Roses are my favorite, 1989

 

I Want To Be A Cloud


Above the clouds
the sun is
creating paintings
with yellow streaks
and puffy pink wisps.
Moving, reshaping, shifting
blending to form images
ever-changing
ever-moving
never stagnant
never the same.
I want to be a cloud.

Dance of Anger, 1989

My New…Old House. June, 2018


June, 2018
Mold, black mold; not Texas Tea Black Gold, but in my closet black mold, growing behind four layers of wallpaper, scraped off one at a time, layers of black mold in between each layer, black mold, all the way down to a cement wall that had black mold. We did pay a home inspector, but this was a hidden mess.
When I first saw the closet walls, gunky stuff was on the outermost layer of wallpaper. I decided to scrub down that wallpaper because I was thinking, maybe somebody sprayed a can of Pepsi all over the walls. That took a few hours that I will never get back because as the wallpaper got moist from the warm dishcloth and fell down, I found my first identifiable layer of black mold. Thick and thriving, unaware its life was about to end.
Spraying each layer with bleach, returning when it was dry, scraping each layer off with a knife/chisel, vacuuming, spraying bleach again, not just because black mold is toxic, but because I am blessed with OCD and then me, showering. Often.
I bought a ventilated mask when I began this week long, no end in sight project and I dutifully put it on for every adventure into the closet from hell.
I couldn’t breathe for the rest of my adventures without inhaling hot steam that I’d exhaled just a second ago, but it made me feel safer somehow.
I say somehow because I hadn’t thought about getting safety glasses or a hat and the black mold showered down upon my head and in my eyes pretty consistently.
So after each adventure in the closet, I stepped into the shower with everything I was wearing and it all got washed.
I decided after the first day that I needed more safety equipment and my husband was delighted that we needed a trip to Harbor Freight. I bought safety glasses, some better scrapers, a worker’s jumpsuit and a huge straw hat.
We also stopped for a gallon of Salted Caramel ice cream.
A week later and one gallon of Kilz and that closet was the cleanest space in this century-old house.
There was only one fatality. The vacuüm cleaner choked to death.

Dandelion Wishes


Along our travels, we made a pit stop for food and I walked outside to get some fresh air. I found a field of dandelions gone to fluff and I picked a bouquet.
I spun around and around in my butterfly covered sun dress and let the fluff cover me as I made wishes.
I could feel the magic surround me.
The magic didn’t come from the dandelion fluff, it came from believing in dandelion wishes.
I’ll never forget that moment.
I tucked it in my heart to save for a rainy day…

A Good Wife

I am my own wife now and I’m finding out just how good I’m going to treat myself.
Am I going to be a good wife or a bad wife?
I didn’t start out very good. I almost starved to death.
I forgot to eat because there was no one to cook for and I didn’t have anybody asking me, what’s to eat, what’s for lunch, what’s for supper, do you want to go out to eat, do you want me to go get something?
I was in a food vacuum, food just didn’t exist.
What I noticed was my deodorant wasn’t working, so I changed brands several times and when that didn’t help, I started to do some research on Google to find out what strange illness I might have that was causing an odor deodorant couldn’t manage.
I found out that I wasn’t putting enough food into my body and that my body was burning muscle to survive. The odor was from being in a state of starvation. I was shocked. I knew I had to eat to live, but I didn’t know I could die from not eating enough.
I had been wasting away and I hadn’t even noticed.
I took off my clothes to take a look at my body and it wasn’t good. Skin and bones.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had been hungry. I had already lost too much weight before my husband and I separated and the scale reported that I’d dropped ten more pounds and I hadn’t even noticed.
I had been eating yogurt and an egg once or twice a week, a couple of spoonfuls of peanut butter every day, but my body was not happy and it wanted some real food.
I learned that once you are in the starvation mode, it gets dangerous. I had to start to eat slowly because starvation damages the heart and I could actually have a heart attack if I started to eat too quickly.
I went to the store and I bought more than just peanut butter, coffee, milk and dog food.
I searched for food that I used to like, so I could tempt myself to eat. I stood there crying because I could barely remember what I liked.
Just shopping for groceries was traumatic. I hadn’t shopped for groceries since my husband retired. We used to joke that he was the wife now and he said I could just write while he took care of cooking, shopping and helped with laundry.
It wasn’t really funny. I stopped shopping a few months after he retired because whatever I brought home wasn’t right, wrong brand, wrong price, wrong flavor. I stopped cooking because he would disagree with the what, the how, the why and the end result. I wasn’t even able to feed the dogs the way he wanted, and if I made my own coffee he would ask why I didn’t have him make it for me.
To some, it looked like I was a pampered princess, but I was actually removed from my kitchen. His at home-ness led to my retirement as a wife. He took over the bills, the kitchen, the shopping and the dogs and I allowed it. I gave up.
So I am my own wife now. It’s been five months, and I am treating myself much better, but it takes awareness and effort. I spoiled my husband and my kids forever, so I know how to do it, I just have to turn that love towards myself.
I started eating slowly. I started cooking for myself for the first time in years. Actual meals. My daughter and grandson come over for supper at least twice a week now and that motivates me to cook. I’ve only gained a pound, but I’m back to my favorite deodorant and it works.
The dogs are happy and well fed, so it turns out that I do know how to feed them. I haven’t cried at the grocery store lately, so I believe I am learning to be a good wife. To myself.

A Note From Grace (My Mom)

grace garden sit

A NOTE FROM GRACE (My Mom)
When my children were growing up and got into their “teenage problem” years, I’d become exasperated with them. I’d think, “They’re just like their father!”
Then, one day the light dawned on me, (Marblehead) because after taking a hard, honest look at myself, I realized; they were just like me. The me I had suppressed and hidden deep inside, where no one else could see. I was as wild and rebellious as they, but I had put up a shield of adult perfection, striving to become the perfect mother that everyone expected me to be.
I have now learned that I need to let this child in me come out to play, or the adult becomes a cold hard shell. I must confess, now that I’m older, I have to do this through my books, and old TV movies.
My mind wants to run through fields of flowers with all my clothes flung aside, but my body slows me down to a stroll through Wal-Mart, wrapped in warm sweaters.

The Pond

THE POND,
By Jodie Lynne

Soft baby ringlets sweeping across her face
Glancing but once to make certain
he’s still in his place.
Her shining dark eyes smile from afar,
So confident, this angel who hasn’t her own fear,
For fear there’s no reason, her goal is quite clear.
Till the slip of a sneaker sucks her foot in the mud
And his arms reach around her,
As he sweeps her up in his hug.
He lets out a sigh, saved her from this fall.
She wiggles out of his tender embrace
Now more than ever she runs with such might,
Determined to catch the quacker
Who’s just taken flight.

Tortured Shades of Gray

TORTURED SHADES OF GRAY
By Jodie Lynne

Shades of gray blend as one
colors soon to fade
evening caresses his face
sadness closes in.
A tortured soul captured again.
Lost…wounds of yesterday
still seeping bitter blood
gurgling pits of fullness.
Suffocating pain held
against its will
never to escape
and deeper became
scars
the shades of gray.

Up To My Heart In Mud

I would live without you if only I could…
Wanting you, needing you, I hate it all.
Tears fall each night
Sometimes they fall
all frigging day too.
I walk the floors
I climb the walls
I turn it off, I turn it on
Who I am depends on you.
Spinning in circles like wet lettuce
shedding its water
I try to shed my love for you.
I don’t love you
I don’t love you
But, oh God help me, God help me
Because I do…I do, I do love you..
Should love make me bleed?
Should love leave me
Hungry for your touch
Empty with a desperate need?
Now I know my long saved passion
Has simply gone to waste,
Thirty-odd years of being loved
Loved just enough so that
I didn’t pack that old suitcase.
Loved you for so long as
Every night you turned away
With one excuse or another
They all sounded the same.
I don’t want to hurt anymore.
Down to a choice…nothing or pain
Your words turn me inside out
And I go blank…shut down
I have no words to say.
I am no longer in the game.
You ask what about all the years
That we have been side by side
And I ask what about today.
What about me?
How long can my hurt hide?
Dreams of running, death and blood
Is this love or is it quicksand?
All I know for sure is that
I’m up to my heart in mud.

No More

No More

Less

Less

Hunger

Hunger

Where Is…

Where is…

Till the Water Runs Cold

two018 - Copy
Running naked in a field of tall grass
Lying alone on the beach with the sun aglow.
Watching my babies while they sleep
Searching for life’s meaning wherever I go.
In the bath, water like silk caresses my skin
A physical pleasure that’s unsurpassed.
Heaven on earth, you can touch your soul
Escaping the ordinary till the water runs cold.

Love Like Water

JM, 1986

Mercy Killing

I’m laying our marriage down
putting it to sleep
a mercy killing that for us is best
laying till death do we part promises to rest.
I’m unplugging the life support
so maybe I can revive my heart
because there is more pain than love left.
a bed where passion died a horrible death
a living room where loyalty was beat
a kitchen you drove me out of
because I couldn’t do it right.
I wish I could cremate us
instead of dismantling us piece by piece
but I suppose that’s exactly what we’ve done
burnt our bridges until two now exist as ones.

Death of a Marriage, Rest in Peace. 1978

Death of a Marriage, Rest in Peace


I didn’t even know that you were sick
and now you’re dead.
Destroyed by a disease born
inside two people who couldn’t see
that love should come first
forsake all others, as God said.
But there is so much I didn’t know about you.
I never guessed that someday you would be deceased.
How can I bury you, when to me you’re still alive?
How will I ever feel whole, with part of me
inside your corpse, which hangs in the closet of my mind?
JM, 1978

The House That Never Sleeps (The VA Hospital) by Jean Burbine

THE HOUSE THAT NEVER SLEEPS
(The VA Hospital)
BY Jean Burbine

I work in the house that never sleeps.
It hides the smiles of the man who weeps.
They come with a limp, with a faltering walk.
Some with a smile for they cannot talk.
Men come with their pain, their fading sight
and find a helping hand from the angels in white.
“Let me push your chair, let me help you walk.”
“Let me be your eyes, and your tongue to talk.”
And all through the night as the rays of dawn creeps,
they stand by your side in the house that never sleeps.