Some text directly from and inspired by:
“The Hobbit”, J.R.R. Tolkien, Chapter 12 Inside Information, pg 190
also inspired by: Samar Jade’s Poem for LexPoMo: “In the Style of Glenis Redmond”

Riddling-talk with the dragon, Smaug
This is how you talk to dragons

“Well, thief!
I smell you and I feel your air
I hear your breath
Come along!
Help yourself again
There is plenty and to spare!”

No thank you, O Smaug the Stupendous
I do not come for presents
gold alone didn’t bring me too
But only, just to have a look at you
to see if the tales ring true
of your magnificent hues

“Lovely titles,” sneered the dragon

“Those don’t sound very creditable,” the dragon scoffed

I am a friend to dog and cat, parakeet and cockatoo, hawk and crow.
I am Jackpot winner and scratch-off sinner
I am Disc Jockey and night-maker
I am Horse-girl and Mustang-Rider

“That’s better, but don’t let your imagination run away with you.” 

– Tolkien, J.R.R. The Hobbit. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1937.

Sweet tug,

I am letting you loose.

You do not win an award

for holding it all together.

No blue ribbon will replace

the badge of honor

you’ve made of your pain.

The world does not lighten

each time you lose sleep.

You have permission

to toss out the midnight oil,

extinguish the flame

burning at both ends.

Do not push through,

plow, hustle, or grind.

There is nothing

on that extra mile that minds you.

You’re allowed to rest,

to stop,

to stay.

Don’t keep treading water.

You are not meant to hunker down

and weather the storm.

Take your shoes off.

Make yourself at home.

The first time I fell asleep on a beach 

Merrily we went along,
ignoring admonitions,
oblivious to glares
and stares that caught us
unawares as we took
whatever we wanted
whenever we wanted it.

Then the piper came
and demanded payment.
We have found him
to be unrelenting
and humorless.
It’s a real bummer.

They were such small 
words you spoke to me,
just a mild rebuke.
But when they crossed the
room to where I stood
they hit so hard
they stunned me,
taking my breath away.

It’s hard to fight small words.
I want to rise, to shout,
to defend myself.
But that will only give them
power, inflating them
into a worthy foe.
I feel foolish taking aim
at such small words.

I will not let you
belittle and define me
by such small words.
You may not see that I am
full of life and strength,
filled with talent and love.
You think I am worthy
of your small words.

You cannot confine
me within that image
dangling from a string.
I break free, redefine myself,
discarding the old skin
that could be wounded
by such small words,
grateful to be free.

An oversized wide knit cotton sweater
hangs by the door of her old cabin
snuggly tucked in the Kentucky woods.

The sweater, laguna blue, faded with
thread pulls, some bottom fringe frayed
where stiches eroded,

comforted her since teaching art
in Chicago, where its large pockets 
held markers, paint brushes and dreams.

It accompanied her on many journeys,
well into her silver years. She lost track
of its exact age or when she first stretched

her arms into its sleeves. Each time one of
her children suggest she trash the blue sweater
and offer to buy her a new one, she resists.

It is her peace when she drapes it around her
shoulders to make a quick run outside to fill
bird feeders or water flowers.

It is her warmth when she wears it all
buttoned up to go out into the chill and
scoop up kindling and cedar logs for the stove.

It is her memory of younger days
when she ties it around her waist to 
walk to the meadow and set up her easel.

It is her solace as she rolls it
into a pillow to rest her head while
dreaming of a lost lover.

She sits on the porch on a cool spring night,
the blue blankets her lap.  She rocks
to the song of the whippoorwill.

1. you are not insane

2. you do, in fact, take things too personally.

2.5  it’s not normal to prefer being stabbed to being ignored 

3. maybe you are actually insane (therapist disagrees… says you are only human)

4. maybe you need more therapy 

    therapy for your therapy 

        (the therapy industry will be getting a lot of money from you) 

5. you cried. so what? 

    you think they haven’t seen tears rolling

    you think they don’t live for that shit

    to see you feeling your feelings

    own it     take it     run with it 

6. maybe it’s okay that you are only human 

    maybe it’s acceptable that you take things too personally 

7. maybe you aren’t, in fact, too much

    maybe you are just enough 

    and maybe it’s beautiful that you have found authenticity 

8. homework? 

    yikes

9. you mean, they want me to think, even more about my issues outside of the safety of these virtual walls?? 

    maybe they are the ones insane  

10. wow! you deserve a nap 

Sometimes, I wish it could be as
simple as following a beacon,
to have someone with a lantern
guiding my way through this life

to be one of those folks who finished
college and followed their career track
to retirement, no twists and turns to
navigate, no changing course mid-stride.

What must that feel like,
walking a mown path through
this fragile system of lies,
security?

With benefits and steady income,
a consistent schedule and routine,
or is it stagnation?
Always the same tired thing.

Other times, I’m grateful for these
adventures I keep having,

    for new side quests taking me into
        territories never explored as I draw

a map with crooked
                                    lines and           s    p    i    r    a    l    s,
    holding my own lantern to light the way, 
            relying on
                                hope         for each next step,

living an uncharted life.