Salutations. Well, my mind has had a lot of time to wander and make me wonder about the world around me. My mind has forced me sit and asked myself how is it that I live in a world that I choose to know so very little about? I repeat the same processes everyday and yet I am ignorant about a fulfilling life. So, I decided that something had to change. Everyday I allow myself to be fully aware of the people, places and things that exist outside of my own personal universe. I take a two-hour long walk through my neighborhood and i try not to take the same path everytime. I believe this would allow for a brand new experience everytime and thus far I haven't been disappointed. I have seen wonderful new flowers, baby animals and everything from a half-painted house to a random leaf prints that made faces. It is magical.

So I ask, how much of our existence is only what we have allowed it to be and how much of it is natural? How often do we take the time and appreciate what is out there beyond our personal space and universe?

If you dare, I ask that you allow your mind to be free enough to enjoy what is not your own, personal experience, but what can be an external experience that stands on its own and begs to be recognized...



Be Observant
by Lady Emerald

As a poet
We are influenced
By everyday events.
Things we see
Hear
Feel
Our entire human encounter
Is a poetic verse
Waiting to be
Written.
Our job;
To find the lyrics and
Sing them acapella, beacause
It’s not everyday the world arranges itself
In a poem.

To know the
Unknown
To see with
A third eye.
It is a tedious job
But someone has to know
It’s not everyday
The world arranges itself
Into a poem.

When it happens
There is an inner grin,
A childlike giggle
That emerges from within
A poet.
It is at that moment
We know that there
Is so much to be
Discovered
Cherished.
An ongoing story
Will be told
On this day.
Because
It’s not everyday the world
Arranges itself in to a poem.

Learn to take notice.

Another Introduction

This is a introductory post for those that have read this blog from the begining and for those that are logging in for the first time. I am Lady Emerald. I live in and through my heart and my heart is made of up what is dearest to me; family, friends and my words. I love the power that words posess. Words light a fire within me that I can only explain in a lengthy conversation over tea. With that said, it is important that you know i enjoy all that I can do with my words; talk, listen, read and dearest to me is writing.

So this is my best foot forward, my whole-hearted attempt to share what I love with those that are willing to give me a chance.

This is an excerpt taking from and poem that is currently under construction. All are welcomed to read, not read, comment or not comment. Bon appetite.


I WANT MY CHANCE- LADY EM

I want my chance to show what I can do,
without rule, doubt or negativity from you.

I want my chance at everything from happiness
to romance,
A great first impression, or a hard fought second
chance.

To do so I need to be free
Free to make good decisions
free to make bad choices

I need to let go of the wheel
and allow my instincts to guide my life.

I want my chance to be free to be me
regardless of triumph, success, or strife.

I want my chance

Poem For The people Who Are Understandably Too Busy To Read Poetry by STEVEN DUNN

Salutations. It has been quite some time since I have fed my literary appetite with something that is very fulfilling. Well, I have found another huge helping of words that has not only fed my literary appetite but has enveloped my funny bone in irony and sarcasm; satisfying my five senses as well. What this poem will bring for you has yet to be said but you will only find out when you read....settle in and enjoy. There's a five course, literary meal ahead...BON APPETTITE!!

Poem For The people Who Are Understandably Too Busy To Read Poetry
by STEVEN DUNN

Relax. This won't last long.
Or if it does, or if the lines
make you sleepy or bored,
give in to sleep, turn on
the T.V., deal the cards.
This poem is built to withstand
such things. Its feelings
cannot be hurt. They exist
somewhere in the poet
and I am far away.
Pick it up anytime. Start it
In the middle if you wish.
It is as approachable as melodrama,
and can offer you violence
if it is violence you like. Look,
There's a man on a sidewalk;
the way his leg is quivering
he'll never be the same again.
This is your poem
and I know you're busy at the office
or the kids are on your last nerve.
Maybe it's sex you've always wanted.
Well they lie together
like the party's unbuttoned coats,
slumped on the bed
Waiting for drunken arms to move them.
I don't think you want me to go on;
everyone has his expectations, but this
is a poem for the entire family.
Right now, Budweiser
is dripping from a waterfall,
deodorants are hissing into armpits
of people yo resemble,
and the the two lovers are dressing now,
saying farewell.
I don't know what music this poem
can come up with, but clearly
it's needed. For it's apparent
they will never see each other again
and we need music for this
because there was never music when he or she
Left you standing on the corner.
You see, I want this poem to be nicer
than life. I want you to look at it
when anxiety zigzags your stomach
and the last tranquilizer is gone
and you need someone to tell you
I'll be here when you want me
like the sound inside a shell.
The poem is saying that to you now.
But don't give anything for this poem.
It doesn't expect much. It will never say more
than listening can explain.
Just keep it in your attache case
or in your house. And if you're not asleep
by now, or bored beyond sense,
the poem wants you to laugh. Laugh at
yourself, laugh at this poem, at all poetry.
Come on:
Good. Now here's what poetry can do.
Imagine yourself a caterpillar
There's an awful shrug and suddenly,
You're beautiful for as long as you live.

Missin' Me

I am all about self definition. Knowing who you are and being comfortable with who you are. But as human beings we have a tendency to lose sight of ourselves and what we should be. I will admit that I have done this plenty of times in my life and what I have done is learn to forgive myself and move on. This is a piece about those emotions that I felt during those times. Let me know what you think.....

MISSIN' ME
by LADY EMERALD

I miss you so
How could I have let you go?
When you were here
those around saw cheer
grins from ear to ear
no fears, no tears.

You were who you were
supposed to be
and without you
I am a different me.
Timid, depressed
smiles are less and less.

I need you back
so I can be whole.
I want to be me again
Tell me where to find
you
Me
The person I used to be.

Because since that day I
you went away
things have fallen
fallen down
fallen apart.

I want to have you back
I need to get you back
Me back
that part of me, you see
I lost.
Will you ever return?

Miscarriage by Jane Duran from Staying Alive: Unreal Poems for Unreal Times

There are some things in life that are inexplicable, hard to deal with and impact our human experiences greatly. The best way I found to deal with the things that impact us to the point of disruption is to view them through another set of eyes, to feel them with another heart and to speak of them as if they were to be part of someones else reality. Only then, when you learn to remove yourself from what ails you by learning that these things do not only happen to just YOU, but to everyone, can you appreciate and see what good comes from those negatives.

This is a poem takes one of the more heartbreaking things for a woman to ever have to deal with and goes in another direction other than the negative connotations that we are used to and helps us to feel with more than just our emotions. It helps us to feel with our entire being; mind, body and soul.

Miscarriage

The Womb refuse,
backed up,
its particles of silk
wasted, perish.
Breathless-
the cloudy silo,
the yolk sea.

The ceremony
of lifting
and enclosing
the womb refused.
The ceremony of no-child
followed.

On either side
its ostrich neck
its camel neck
wavered,
swallowed the high
midnight.

The womb held back.
It had an eye
for sand,
spread its cool
oranges and reds
on dry land,

and bright
and fierce
as a lair,
the womb bear-hugged
its dead,
and let go.