About Angela

I write. I'm no professional, I'm not published, aside from a few poems, and I don't write for money or fame. I write because I must. In my younger years I wrote. I feel like I'd only just begun to exercise that passion when life expected me to become, and I let it. A college student, career woman, wife, mother, small business owner, friend, neighbor. And on. For years I didn't pick up a pen. I was too busy becoming what I thought I should become. My heart was overflowing - it was breathing and I wasn't listening. About four years ago, I began the process of unbecoming, of shedding the layers of expectation. Of getting lost so I could be found, of asking the right questions so I could find comfort in the being lost. Of just being me. I began to listen to my heart. I picked up my pen, and unbecame a poet. I'm inviting you to listen, too. Welcome, Angela Kay 💜

Unconditional

carpenter, artist
gymnast, writer
handicap, basket case
drama queen, igniter

instead of the most convenient
in lieu of simple boxes
we must see one another other clearly
accepting the paradoxes

protector, intellectual
comedian, advisor
enabler, martyr
crybaby, miser

stretching perceptions
and challenging beliefs
encouraging expression
and offering relief

provider, debater
helper, teacher
dictator, complainer
whiner, preacher

till death do us part
in sickness and in health
loving unconditionally
is where we’ll find wealth

-image credit kriscarr.com via Google

Summer

This is my first summer off since I began working 30 years ago. For 10 years, I worked long hours in the juvenile corrections field, which was so very rewarding, but also soul twisting. The last 14 years, I’ve worked 50-60 hour weeks with no sick or personal time, and until 2 years ago, I took only one short vacation each of those years. My soul is exhausted and in need of revitalization. 

For the summer, I am working 1 day a week, and the other days I do have many family responsibilities, but I also have free time that I’ve never had before. It feels so good.

As much as I’d love to use much of the free time to read and write, my heart is telling me I need to use it differently. My children are growing fast, and sooner than I’d like, they’ll be gone. My husband enjoys outdoor activities and loves nothing more than for me to accompany him. The house we’ve loved and lived within for 20 years is being remodeled, amidst the process of becoming in unison with those who inhabit it, and my elbow grease is contributing.

My heart is telling me my home needs some love, both figuratively and literally. This summer, my heart and spirit are leading me home, and it is breathing in me new life. 

I will only be here sporadically, but I’ll carry your words in my heart. Have an amazing summer, all! 

Angela

*image via Pixabay

Time Passing

it’s been over 14 years,
of chasing my tail ‘round and ‘round,
simultaneously bored out of my mind,
and saturated with touch and sound

5,177 days
of being lonely but never alone,
of being physically and emotionally drained, 
while my brain atrophied, shriveled to none

124,248 hours,
full of ideas and personal revelation,
so many things I’ve needed to say,
but no one with which to have conversation

7,454,880 minutes,
of creative thoughts popping into my head,
but never enough time to write them, 
to see where they may have lead

447,292,800 seconds 
wondering if I’ve wasted too much time,
worrying about the little things, 
instead of experiencing joy in this heart of mine

-image via Pixabay

Friendship

I’m not the most book-smart gal,
and I process rather slow

no formal education taught me
the things my heart knows

no golden plaque on the wall
could measure how my spirit grows

and no fancy dress or bank account 
could replace my love that freely flows

I’m just a girl who pays attention,
who shows up when others go

who listens and loves all of you,
who in tough times helps you tow

who isn’t embarrased to share deeply,
to let down barriers and overflow

and, I need that kind of friend, too,
whose love isn’t afraid to show

who understands that the only way
to be truly loved, is to be known 

-image via Pixabay

Words Are Not Enough

how does one thank someone 
who puts our needs above his own,
who blankets us in support
picking up the slack while we grow?

how does one thank someone
who cradled my babies in his arms,
and always in his heart
as they face the risk of harm?

how does one thank someone
who leads with love and logic, too,
checking ego at the door 
while we evolve, always anew?

how does one thank the husband
who inspires us all everyday,
the father of my children, 
the epitome of love in every way?

a few spoken words could never be enough
to express what my heart has to say,
so I’ll keep showing my love and gratitude,
for this amazing man, every day

-image via Pixabay

Patinaed

trapped, pacing cavernous halls of yesterdays,
in a labyrinth of memories, edges torn and frayed

soul dreading the echoes, reverberating of years,
flesh bearing cool patina, corrosion by fears

her tired heart but a shadow of what could be,
thrumming erratic, amidst suffocating debris

-shared in response to DVerse’s Quadrille Challenge, Shadow, click the link for a wonderful explanation about the Quadrille and to read more poetry

Be-er

I wish I could be a writer, 
etching soul into character

I wish I could be a poet,
transforming spirit into sound

My heart and spirit are always so full,
of words, of song, of love,
overflowing 

There is never enough time in a day
to put pen to paper,
to record what my heart and spirit 
can’t stop shouting

I’ve thought maybe it’s not my time,
that life’s circumstances just won’t
allow for it

But I think I’ve had it all wrong – 

It’s not about time at all,
it’s all about love

There’s only love and serving love
in this life

I could spend all my spare time
tucked into a desk, alone, pen in hand,
recording life

I suppose that’s love and serving love
in its own way

Or, I can be 
love

I can be the love, offer the love,
perpetuate the love,
face to face,
exposing my soul and this LOVE I have,
in everyday life,
giving to others and serving the world 
in the best way I know how

LOVE

I wish I could be a writer,
I wish I could be a poet,
but I think maybe my spirit is telling me
something else

I’m a be-er,
with the heart of a writer 
and the soul of a poet 

-image via Pinterest, source unknown 

Union

finally, she sang her truth
chorus could no longer restrain
piece by piece, she reclaimed
soul crying out with youth

truth was her union
a whirlwind of lyrical emotion
an elixir, her magic potion
at last, free flowing communion

Two Sizes Too Big

she was born with a heart the opposite of Grinch,
two sizes too big, filling every square inch
of the space beneath her skin,
growing and growing, letting everyone in,
until some Grinch-like hearts exploited,
causing hers to grow walls, to avoid the poison

~photo credit medicaldaily.com

I Wish…

I see you here most days;
I hope to

I seem to have made it a habit,
coffee, and you

there you sit,
legs crossed, in your well-worn
gray Woodstock t-shirt,
sipping your coffee,
mindlessly scrolling through your phone,
in no hurry

every now and then, you look up to stare,
at everything and nothing at all,
an easy smile for any passer by,
a quiet confidence,
a contentment that’s contagious

and your eyes, oh God,
your warm, deep green eyes with those tiny orange flecks,
remind me of how it used to feel sitting beneath my favorite willow tree on sleepy summer nights

I want to know your name,
I want to feel it roll off my tongue,
a sound as familiar and comfortable
as my favorite, cozy sweatshirt

I want to know what you like for breakfast and how you take your tea,
I want to know when you’re afraid
and when you’re too tired to sleep

I want to recognize your laugh
from across the room,
feel your eyes upon me without even
having to look

I want to know you

I see you,
and I wish you’d see me, too

-image credit Pinterest, poem inspired by image