More Poetry Is My Life

OK I've been wanting to write about my reason for running my Pure Romance business because it will be good for business, but I have been thinking so much about this post and sharing these poems and I just can't wait. Also, I need to get really excited about studying and working my ass off for this certification.

There are so many reasons I need to be a personal trainer. And all of them will make me very good at what I do. I know I'm not in amazing shape to many people. But the way I see it, we are all on our own paths of figuring things out, and just because I have some jiggle doesn't mean I can't help you learn, plan, take action, and reach your goals. My body will certainly be changing too, but learning to meet myself where I was is one of the most valuable lessons I have ever learned and my success is owed to it.

This is something that has been brewing all of my nearly 33 years. Ten years ago, I would have laughed at me so hard for ever thinking I would be working to be a personal trainer. And then working as a personal trainer? That's just impossible. I'm not the kind of person who would/could ever do that.

My mind back then was limited.

I started writing Family Inheritance in college. It was my final year and I was having a blast making work of something I had loved for at least 20 years. What? I didn't need to edit my poetry...it came out perfect the first time. Exactly as I wanted it. Except, oh wait...that poetry class (actually Dr. Anaporte because she and I were the only ones there!)  taught me that poetry is sometimes a living, breathing thing. It can change and grow and its impact can be better expressed through different words, meter, punctuation, line selections, rhyme schemes...and on and on. Poetry is one of my favorite arts, and I don't know what that means because it makes a smaller list to say what isn't a favorite art to me. And no, I'm not cultured really (as you'll witness in the video),
I just love love love to create.

And I love the things I create. And I like to share them.

They deserve it! This poem means so much to me and it's been shared multiple times in different ways. It has a new part now. And it makes me tingle. Goosebumps too. The bumpiest of therm.

Family Inheritance

I

I learned my mom had diabetes;

It felt like someone told me we were out of popsicles.

PawPaw already had to put shots in his belly

As we played at the table awaiting MawMaw’s biscuits and gravy.

The first summer I spent at Dad’s

I enjoyed the swimming pool, the palm trees, the kids I met,

But I remember nothing like holding the cold phone to my ear

And from eight hundred miles away I hear mom tell me,

“PawPaw had a heart attack and he’s in ICU right now.”

Sobbing, I fell to my knees and prayed.

II

Cigarettes seduced me with their false comfort;

Every thirteen-year-old girl needs some type of crutch.

PawPaw quit smoking before I was born;

His kids begged him to stop

And still half of them smoke.

I stole many packs from my mother

That my friends and I smoked in my room

Poking holes in the window screens to wedge

Our poisonous cylinders into

So we could flick them into the yard

When we heard the old steps under mom’s feet; but usually

She stayed downstairs on the cushion

That curved around her bottom,

So we all smoked freely

Cloaking the stagnant house in miasma.

III

My twenty-six-year-old belly swollen

With my son, his father cooked

And urged me daily:

“Watch your sugar.”

Mom had gestational diabetes first:

A warning sign.

I never liked raw vegetables,

But when my body belonged to my son,

I devoured them.

After a year and a half of his nourishment

He returned my body to me,

His best interest ever in my heart.

Often in life I took my own body for granted

By feeding it junk, lounging too much,

Consuming intoxicants and sunshine,

Sharing sexual pleasures

With passionless fools without caution.

I wanted to stop

And live healthy with my family,

But there were holes in our foundation

And some men care little for change;

I left so I could grow.

IV

PawPaw died last spring

After caths, and stents, and bypasses,

Mush through feeding tubes,

The hiss of breathing tubes.

I no longer prayed, but

I shaved his face to show my love

Because he wasn’t supposed to eat my banana bread

(Though he insisted on a piece anyway).

We hid the bread; I should have grown fruit,

But there was hardly time.

V

My new boyfriend carried PawPaw’s coffin to the hearse

With other men from my family

And he felt the weight of us all.

His health had taken dives in recent years;

But this year he slowed in the grocery store

And amazed himself at the labels of things

He placed back on the shelves.

Then, a friend, a brother to us,

Is attacked by his own heart one night

Right before Valentine’s Day and his thirtieth birthday

And we are stricken with the fear

Of a storm we thought was many miles farther away

When it ripped the walls down on his family

And doctors gingerly propped them back up.

VI

I run on this machine

And stare at the tree by the river—

Its limbs sprawl outward like arteries in each direction against the backdrop

Of the sky, and the mountains, and the water—

I think of my mom, in hopes that

She makes the right decisions so that I may talk to her,

For years to come, about everything.

I think of my son, who loves running and all foods

(Even the ones I don’t like)

And candy. He will learn positive habits

And the importance of being healthy in my home,

So he doesn’t have to learn this agonizing way.

I think of my boyfriend, who stands by me

And works for more days with our family

By picking better foods and strengthening his heart

And our bond; we want more days together.

I haven’t smoked since our first date

And we’re planting together this spring.

I think of my friends and family who have suffered

And watched their loved ones suffer.

Do people have to die

For us to understand

Why we should change?

And I run.

I run as if something horrible chases me,

And it never stops.

VII

But sometimes I stop,

So lazy, easy to forget why I must continue,

Keep my heart pumping, racing for love, for desire, to perspire, inspire—

My son and all of us grow older, my boyfriend turned to husband,

My extended family suffers slowly, painfully, and others prosper still.

And the world goes on now

Without my Uncle—we can’t live without our liver,

And cancer eliminated his within weeks.

Though not one of us will get out of this alive,

I want to dance while I am here

And live without the fear

Of leaving those I love alone

Without a fight to stay—

Then, a light! A way!

A new dream to plan and scheme, work and scream

From the mountaintops I climb;

A new life’s purpose defined

For me and those who want to thrive

And arrive at a new level of self-love

And acceptance of the truth

That our bodies are our temples

Worthy of love and respect for all they can do—

The incredible ability to carry us through.

So part VII is brand new--the rest was mostly written in 2011. I think this is the first poem I've ever composed that has been divided into parts. And that was a great suggestion given to me by my professor. She held readings for her classes at Taylor Books in Charleston. My first public poetry reading was bigger than any of her classes that had more than one person in them. I'm praising my support system, not being vain, people. And I'm going to leave that here for your viewing pleasure (man I was nervous but it still made me cry!) 
My good school mate Jessica Fertig is also in this video and she and her father provided awesome comic relief after that quite heavy poem with great talent.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eAp_aWEav8E

I like the poem it even better now though. And I like me even better now. I like that I've always loved making people laugh.

This poem is a little more sexy and can maybe promote both businesses. Circa 2012 at our old house, Hogjaws (seriously, it was previously a convenience store dubbed as such), I wrote this gem. That's where one of our friends also dubbed us a "power couple" when I explained to her what that meant.

Watching you dance

From the elliptical

I feel stronger, smarter

For choosing you of all

Pulling my breath

Into my body

I anticipate

The sweetness of all

The air we'll share for life

Admiring your muscles

I want to learn their names

So I can feel an expertise

As my lips meet their grace

And that one is completely unedited so far except for the fact that I just messed with its composition on the page and I'm quite pleased that it resembles an hour glass or a sweet human figure! 
It's unfinished and you'll probably see it again.

I Love poetry.

I meant to capitalize that "L." But I didn't want to be annoyingly over-exaggerated in making the word "LOVE" in all caps. But it just looks weird.

But we're all weird. So it's ok.

Leave a comment. Especially if you got this far. A lot of people just tell me my blogs are too long (they told me that about this essay I wrote about boobs because it was about a lot more than they wanted to learn). I'm sorry; I write them because I like to write and read. And I just read this again and I LOVE it lol.

So if you read any of it, I would like to know. 

I would like to know if you're as cool as me.

And it's my sweet, supportive husband's birthday 3/13
and I want to spend the day celebrating the person he is. 
I have to figure out what to bake (another favorite art of mine) because he won't tell me what he wants! Then get some sleep.