• my muse

    national poetry writing month (napowrimo)

    you might think a poem is an easy thing just some words on different lines word after word after word some of them rhyme some of the time sometimes   ……….there   ……………are   ……………….long   …………………..pauses between them   ortheycanbereadallinonebreath   a poem is painted thoughts illustrated with letters   it can be cryptic; hidden messages about the one that got away who still haunts your heart, or at least your dreams   it can be literal, or mean nothing at all but words on paper can heal, ignite, or wound releasing the words from inside your head can be the difference between sleep and worry a poem can be a lot of things easy or hard the choice is yours   © cjh april 7, 2018      

  • my muse

    sunkissed

    you are summer you are sunshine you are heat waves you are bonfires twilight fireflies crickets chirping the sound of waves lapping at the shore you are sunlight reflecting off the water you are lazy, sweltering days you are constellations so close you can almost touch them moonlight thunder storms perfumed summer breeze loud florescent soft sunkissed skin you are sitting at the top of the slide in the park after dark you are long walks as the sun sets skipping pebbles over waves you are innocence wide-eyed wonder you are flushed cheeks and giddy smiles you are memories you are whispers you are summer always summer you are summer to me     © cjh May 29 2016 Edited July 6 2017

  • my muse,  the anomaly that is me

    in my head

    Sometimes you go round and round and round and round spinning over and over in your head but, why? but, why? but, why? and it’s a slippery slope from one step to another to but why…me?         why me? but        why                 me? because there are no reasons for randomness. there’s no rhyme to spontanieous events. unless it was your own decision to make a stupid mistake (and oh, how I’ve made some) then you’re stuck suffering the consequence. don’t get sucked into the why-me-trap so they say you’ll never find answers to questions without them but over and over that’s all you can hear over and over it feeds the fear why          me? you can be safe. you can be kind. you can be thoughtful. you can be good. but between one heartbeat and the next everything you know can be undone but why me? you’ll never know but why me? don’t dwell on that now but why me? that’s all I hear funny how one single moment in time can change you forever who am I now? but why but why but why                 me.

  • my muse

    My Traditional Ode to Valentine’s Day

    He Shoots Again cupid’s arrow has done it again just like a bull’s eye it struck my heart and made me love he made me love someone i can never have oh, cupid is playing darts with his bow and arrow and my heart is the board he shoots and he shoots some more until my heart is sore and he shoots again i hear the laughter again to him it’s just a game there’s pleasure in my pain and he made me love he made me love someone i’ll never have without your help i can do just fine please leave the choice up to me look at all the pain you’ve caused in all of history, romeo and juliet, adam and eve would have been just fine without you why don’t you just leave? and he shoots again and he shoots again he’s drunk on love’s passion he’s crazy for love he needs it, he wants it he’ll take it ’til you’re sore he’s just got to, got to got to have more and he shoots again oh, cupid is playing darts with his bow and arrow and my heart is the board he shoots and he shoots some more until my heart is sore and he shoots again © cjh february 4, 1993 Yep I  am totally flaking out and posting my Ode to Valentine’s Day here  (as I normally do) as my “look! I blogged this month!” thing. I can’t find time for anything these days.…

  • my muse

    i’m not ready yet

    It was cold and grey the day the sky came crashing down without warning the sky is falling And I will never forget that sound And you came running And everyone was running And I waited for screams that never came Is it the end of the world? Is this the end of the world? Cause if this is the end of the world,               I’m not ready yet Through chilled air there were sirens muted by silence; muffled by fear And I stood frozen in time your hand was in mine Disbelieving everything Is it the end of the world? Is this the end of the world? Cause if this is the end of the world,               I’m not ready yet Through all the chaos and everything we have lost like dominos it all fell one by one It pulled the trigger, making the worst get bigger and we’ve fallen in the rabbit hole down and down But we will climb back up with time Now a year has past since the sky fell We’re rebuilding our walls and our foundations Because it all was shattered it’s slow piecing it back together And if it’s the end of world I don’t want to know               I’m not ready yet © cjh november 2, 2014

  • my muse,  the anomaly that is me

    endurance

    I am not fast I often trail behind I go at my own pace And I take breaks I no longer feel the need to keep up with others Sometimes I fall back into the insecurity Of thinking I’m too slow, or not as good as the person next to me But then I remember that I can only do what I can And my own personal victories are rewarding It might not seem like I am accomplishing much But I know I am I know when to push And when to pull back I know my body And listen to what it needs I won’t get there in record breaking time But I’m not trying to I’m not the most coordinated I’m not the fastest, strongest, or best So what if I can’t lift as much as the person beside me So what if I can’t run as fast as the person in ahead of me So what if I progress slower than the rest I’m still making progress I am not perfect But I get out there And I give it all I can I take the time to do things right And not rush through to finish first, or fastest As I build endurance I build confidence Confidence to go at my own pace Confidence to accomplish my own goals Confidence to stop when I need to stop And go when I need to go I might lag behind, but I will get there And when I do,…

  • my muse

    paper dolls

    We are not paper dolls We are not One-size-fits-all We are unique We are flawed We are beautiful We are human We are not cookie-cutter cut outs All smooth edges and perfect lines We are not identical, carbon copies all produced on an assembly line We are square pegs in round holes We are dissonant chords And if we all sang the same song We’d be bored before too long We are harmony We are colours of the spectrum We are prisms of light We are scars We are battles that we’ve lost and wars we rage silently inside We are loud We scream out We are not paper dolls We are collections of our fears, of our strengths of our bravery and our tears We are not perfect and that’s exactly what makes us Perfect. We are proud We are enough We are worth it we are worth it we are worth it we are human we are worth it © cjh september 8, 2013

  • my muse,  the anomaly that is me

    inspire me

    Where do you find inspiration? Is it in the sky? On the ground? The people around you? Do you look at a sunset and it takes your breath away? Do you listen to the trees and hear the stories they whisper to the air? Do you spend your days with your head in the clouds, watching them slowly change shape and create something new with each wisp of the wind? Do you draw your inspiration from friends and strangers? People watch and create their stories in your mind? Do you ever wonder what the stories are behind windows and doors? Watch people in their cars as they drive by and wonder, are they happy? Do they hurt? Is there joy or sadness? What inspires you? I have a folder in my feed reader titled “Inspiration”. I started it when I wasn’t sure where to fit some of the blogs I was reading occasionally that filled me with a sense of wonder. These occasional haunts weren’t quite right for the “Random” folder I had set up. There was something different about these blogs, something brighter. My Inspiration folder has a variety of subjects within it. Writing, running, fashion, crafting. Not all of the blogs within that folder are subject-specific, but they have something about them that fills me with… something. Feeling. Ideas. Dreams? I can scroll through the unread posts in that folder and get something from them that helps me take another breath, encourages me to go forward. Makes me…

  • memories,  my muse

    august nostalgia

    Sometimes I dream outfits so vivid and real that I am certain I have them in my closet. It’s never the case. This time I had a vivid dream of a burgundy blazer over a burnt orange top, paired with a plaid kilt in mustard yellow, charcoal grey and burgundy. It was so vivid I HAD to draw it, even though I haven’t drawn in over 10 years. (And never mind that I can’t draw feet, ok?)* I have always loved August. I don’t know why exactly, I think it’s the light. August is always golden and warm. It’s not quite autumn but you know it’s on the way. Magazines and circulars are full of Back to School supplies and clothes and I used to love – LOVE! – when my August edition of YM magazine (and sometimes Seventeen) would arrive and I would hungrily look through the pages mentally shopping for my new clothes. The clothes that would make a New Me come the start of school at the end of the month. A New Me never happened, of course. But there’s something hopeful and magical about getting new clothes at the start of a school year that makes you feel new. Even though once you walk through the doors into the school halls you always walk and everything stays the same, there’s something in the air. Everything smells new. Everything feels new. Everyone has new clothes, school bags, pencils, pens, locker decor. Man, I miss locker decor. They have some…

  • my muse

    ignite

    Sometimes I can’t sleep because my head is filled with possibilities so bright and so loud they keep me awake my whole being vibrates resonates the excitement of the unknown and the anticipation of what could be I’m surprised that it doesn’t wake up the entire neighbourhood with its noise possibilities ignite the dark of night

  • memories,  my muse,  the anomaly that is me

    truly outragous: one girl’s dream

    When I was a kid, I was shy, nervous, anxious, worried that everyone hated me and I loved to SING. Between the ages of 9-12 there was one cartoon on TV that just made everything bad in my life go away. Jem and the Holograms was my solace and my dream. I used to play dress-up with my friends and I’d be Jem and they’d be my holograms. I had Jem dolls (my sister has Misfits, I think?). Jem was my dream, my inspiration. I wanted to BE her when I was a kid. Jem sang. She had magic (well, holograms that seemed like magic). Synergy was beautiful and purple and could fly. Jem and her Holograms has brightly coloured hair. They were AMAZING! If only real life was like Jem and the Holograms – with less orphaned kids and people always trying to kidnap and kill the orphans. (Zipper! Seriously! What was your deal with the always wanting to burn the orphans up? Therapy was obviously needed in your life.) I never liked the Misfits much. I liked Stormer, with her blue hair and raspy voice, but I think that’s because she was the Misfit with the heart of gold. She was nice deep down. Not like Pizzazz and Roxy. I always thought Rio was rather dumb not knowing that Jerrica and Jem were the same person. Heck, they SOUNDED the same. Also, he was kind of a jerk dating both of them and not telling either one about…

  • my muse

    words

    Words. words. over and over inside my head over and over over and over echoing, repeating. Can’t shut them out can’t turn them off so many words wanting to get out blocked stuck heavy as rocks words, these words like static in my head over and over and over and over and over and over repeating again and again words without meaning words that mean everything at all can’t write them down can’t give them up bouncing from one wall to the other inside my skull words like breath can’t get enough can’t fill my lungs once I put pen to paper they just fizzle out but they come back in the darkness and taunt me again over and over words in my head echoing screaming white noise over and over and over and over just want them out like your words that reach me, inside and tug at my heartstrings my muse longs to paint words on my soul but she’s just as lost as I am trying to capture the fleeting words, flying haphazardly spinning around in my head words © cjh january 27, 2013

  • my muse

    My Traditional Ode to Valentine’s Day

    He Shoots Again cupid’s arrow has done it again just like a bull’s eye it struck my heart and made me love he made me love someone i can never have oh, cupid is playing darts with his bow and arrow and my heart is the board he shoots and he shoots some more until my heart is sore and he shoots again i hear the laughter again to him it’s just a game there’s pleasure in my pain and he made me love he made me love someone i’ll never have without your help i can do just fine please leave the choice up to me look at all the pain you’ve caused in all of history, romeo and juliet, adam and eve would have been just fine without you why don’t you just leave? and he shoots again and he shoots again he’s drunk on love’s passion he’s crazy for love he needs it, he wants it he’ll take it ’til you’re sore he’s just got to, got to got to have more and he shoots again oh, cupid is playing darts with his bow and arrow and my heart is the board he shoots and he shoots some more until my heart is sore and he shoots again © cjh february 4, 1993 If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me today “What are you doing for Valentine’s Day?” I’d be able to take my husband & I  out to dinner tonight. Of course,…

  • my muse

    apples

    apples by Cat Healy don’t go until it’s over wait now for the right moment next time I fall I’ll be prepared I’ll make sure the ground is covered in leaves when I fall when I fall don’t think too much about it else it won’t make any sense next time I fall I’ll float though the clouds I’ll make sure the ground is covered in flowers and I’ll paint all the petals with the colours of spring and I’ll catch all the birds and teach them to sing when I fall don’t speak you’ll break the silence my head can use the breather next time I fall I won’t be surprised I’ll make sure the ground is covered in water and I’ll swim ashore and chase the starfish in the sunshine in the moonshine the stars shine for you don’t leave unless I’m with you two hearts are better than one next time I fall I won’t be scared I’ll make sure the ground is softer than air and I’ll shake all the branches and the apples will fall as the birds fly away © cjh july 17, 2010

  • my muse

    enemy – a work in progress

    stay awake with me ’cause I can’t face these ghosts alone 3AM how I know you well when the silence is so loud it’s deafening there’s a rock in my stomach weighing heavy on my soul I am my own worst enemy If I can destroy this I will haven’t felt this way in a while haven’t felt this way and for every second step I take there’s a stumble, there’s a fall and no matter how fast or furious I go I feel I’ll never get there at all save me from the dark save me from the dark I am my own worst enemy If I can destroy this I will when you can’t breathe ’cause there’s no oxygen and the world’s dark, the room spins you open your mouth to scream but there’s no sound the silence is killing me save me from myself save me from my self I am my own worst and I will destroy this I will when the night fall lies become truths that little voice inside promises I’m losing you I’m drowning, I’m floating suffocating so far away from peace I am my own worst enemy (save me from myself) and if I can destroy this I will (save me from myself) stay awake with me © cjh february 26, 2010 Don’t steal this, it’s mine. I shall shoot you with my laser eyes if you do! *glare*