Efforts of Awakening
 
 

My Web
Out there, somewhere is me
I get close, but then I lose me
I'm like the spider
trying to grasp the window pane
We both try so hard
but keep slipping back
I'll keep trying, though
and one day
my web will be complete
(c) Rhonda Kelley 1980
 
 

Fog Dreams
I wander through the fog for a lifetime
in a state of mistaken oblivion
The fog lifts
I see paintings
I encounter varieties of characteristics
each with its own story of where its been
and where it hopes to go
I enjoy learning of others
but must begin my search

I wander through the corridors for a lifetime
in a state of paranoid confusion
I fear that it doesn't exit
It is no where to be found
My search if futile

I run back to the others
to ask why
But they aren't there
Only the fog remains
(c) Rhonda Kelley 1982
 
 

Limitedness
So this is it--
reality at the lowest level
No imagination, insights or realizations
Just one thought at a time
and no conclusions from these thoughts

Only the lower level colors are here
The pictures are all on paper
and too determined by the artist
to allow anyone else insight

No room for imagination
Restrictions to this one level
keep us blind to more of reality.
(c) Rhonda Kelley 1982
 
 

Endless Thoughts
wandering aimlessly through the universe
being bombarded by thoughts
of past, present and future
they swirl me around endlessly
until they are all one moment,
one eternal moment that traps me
until I see everything explode
into a million tiny pieces
(c) Rhonda Kelley 1982

Mon Espirit
I had
always kept her locked in a padded cage.
I would
let her out occasionally for short excursions
with a select few
She never
flew far though.
When another
would get too fond, I'd take her back
and return her to her pain free existence.
Her life
continued this way...pain-free, protected
and unaware of what it was really
like outside the mask of the cage
Then a
gentle hand reached inside the cage
and with care brought her out
for short excursions,
always remembering to put her back safely.
With time
she began to trust the gentle hand
more and more.
She slowly
shed the mask and became more herself...
uninhibited and trusting.
With care,
this gentle hand has given her the courage
to fly free without concern.
(c) Rhonda Kelley 1983
 
 

instructions
Be as calm as the wind
Don't make waves
Don't take anything to heart
Create your own fantasy world
admitting no others
Learn to become a facsimile of yourself
Lose yourself
because so much is taken from you
Become how the other sees you
and not how you really are
For you have entered
the land of love.
(c) Rhonda Kelley 1984
 
 

locked soul
You leave for work;
I pull out the hidden keys
and attempt to turn off your commentary,
pull out the locked box of my soul
and feel its innards,
turn on the music
that unleashes my soul like a pill,
sit amongst my life's thoughts
recorded on paper
for my eternity that drizzles on and on.

As the light moves
from room to room
I sit enamored
with myself, my soul, my work,
wondering where this mirrored image
of my life's shield will take me.
A cadence of eastern reflections
subsides toward a southern view
and the downy goose feathers.
Southeast winds blow my thoughts
to a healing time and place...
a glimpse at possibility.

But for now,
the light begins to look for its own keys
and starts putting away its soul.
I too, put away my soul
back into its locked box
where I can keep it safe
from you, and the voices in my head.
By the time you enter
the door of our life together,
I will be secure
behind my locks
and able to dance your dance
for another few hours.
(c)Rhonda Kelley 2002
 
 

Terrarium
Can I be a flower in a bottle
blessed with the beauty of life
but protected from the pain?
It looks so tranquil in there,
so heavenly.
I thought that I was a flower in a bottle
but someone shattered the glass.
(c)Rhonda Kelley 1984
 
 

writing my way out
"I must say what I feel and think in some way - it is such a relief."

You, blank page
inviting
ready to please
seemingly open trust thrusting at me
WRITE ON ME
fear!
Does he mean it?

"The outside pattern...reminding one of a fungus."
"By daylight she is subdued, quiet.  I fancy it is the pattern that keeps her so still."

sneering, laughing, loving
I hide the ink deep within
The empty pen dangles around my neck.
You gave me its chain
Praises of my pen,
my pen without its ink.

"The front pattern does move - and no wonder!
The woman behind shakes it!"
"If only that top pattern could be gotten off from the under one!
I mean to try it, little by little."

You awake me one night
to tell me my pen is on fire
I already know

"I pulled and she shook.  I shook and she pulled, and before morning
we had peeled off yards of that paper."

Sleepless nights follow
sickness occurs
ink vomits rage throughout the night
the paper is covered in vomit
release is in sight

"I wonder if they all come out of that wallpaper as I did?"
"But I am securely fastened now by my well hidden rope."

Yet you
squirm in agony all night
the next morning you say
you dreamt of knife stabbings

"I've pulled off most of the paper, so you can't put me back."

The next morning
I am free.
(c)Rhonda Kelley 1989
words in italics and quotes (c)Charlotte Perkins Gilman
 
 

"the kiss
that sleeping beauty waits for is not that of any prince,
but the embrace of her own being."
The kiss
came later than for most
Sleep followed
wait...wait...wait...
Sporadic kisses
More Anesthesia
"I cleaned my welcome mat"
wait...wait...
Remember to breathe-
NO!
That's too much oxygen
Briars will grow
and scare them away
The clock ticked
Hands
                        reflected on my face
                    Please hurry!

In a dream
the clock shattered
A sliver of glass kissed my lips
No more anesthesia
A stairway appeared
    I envisioned myself
                    descending to my garden
                        embracing my briars
                            bleeding roses.
(c)Rhonda Kelley 1988
 
 

statues of our minds
I waited
cautiously
anxiously

I primped my tail
My stage was prepared
My sisters encouraged me
I was ready to dance

But the sea was disturbed
The stage was changed
My tail became red shoes
that caused great pain

As the sea calmed
my fear heightened
I searched for my lines
but there were none

Not knowing what to do
I was at my weakest
I allowed the takeover
of the dreaded crone

The crone appeared
from my darkest pits
"Ah my pretty princess
I shall help your dance"

"You must be graceful
You must keep dancing
and I'll take your tongue
for you no longer need it"

I handed over my tongue
It was tossed into the sea
Gray smoke poured forth
My sight became blurred

My leading man appeared
-a statue of stone-
His eyes were of glass
that mirrored me spellbound

The music began
-a strange tune indeed-
My body swayed
as I began the dance

The pain was intense
I wanted to stop
But the crone screamed,
"You must keep dancing"

The pain became natural
I thought it was needed
I kept dancing
The statue stared blankly

The dance took my energy
and gave nothing back
A hollowness filled
the dancing red shoes

My sisters came
with their hair cut off
"We've come to save you
so listen well"

"We cut our hair
with this knife
Stab the statue's eyes
and break your spell"

I grabbed the knife
intent on my goal
But the crone screamed,
"Who will guide you?"

I lowered the knife
but kept it close
I resumed the dance
while conflict reigned within

I began to see
through the fading crone
I listened less
and heard my own tune

An image appeared
a bleeding stone
a melting crone
fading red shoes

The image vanished
The music quickened
The crone was screaming
My feet were aching

The statue's eyes
darkened and blurred
I knew it was time
I must save myself

I thrust the hot knife
into the statue's eyes
They fluttered a moment
then oozed the red milk

I tasted it not
for I knew it was bad
I started to dance
but soon felt lost

His guidance was wrong
But it was all I'd known
The crone calmly said,
"You're on your own now"

Without his gaze
I could dance for myself
I was able to find
fragments of my mirror

I didn't like the stage
so I changed it
The crone watched
with curious eyes

The statue placed himself
in the path of my dance
I looked in his eyes
but saw nothing

The statue's eyes fell out
The sea began to foam
The crone slowly melted
and a mermaid tale was left

Remembering the pain
of the red shoes
I exchanged them for
the mermaid tail

My dancing changed
It was now fulfilling
I danced through a garden
of stone faced statues

They held up their mirrors
but I was not in them
My mirror was complete
I spoke my first words,

"Once upon a time
there was a girl
who broke the mirror
and set herself free"
(c)Rhonda Kelley 1988
 
 

the poetics of the monarch butterfly
In the warmth of the cocoon
she thinks and pnders,
worries and frets,
feels and fears

The heat becomes
too great to bear
the wind echoes of no reprieve-
the cold is fearful too

Just as more fermentation
would become sour
the wind brings a chill
awakening the muse

As the cocoon of her depression
breaks open
the wings carefully unfurl
and quickly dry in the wind

She stretches her wings
toward the sky
the wind of inspiration
carries her higher and onward

After the stoicism
of the cocoon
the thoughts
come rapidly and clear now

She floats on the wind
with ease
soaring and diving
as the wind transforms

She will perish shortly
but her flight paths will be immortal
to all who travel the path--
the path of the poet.
(c)Rhonda Kelley 1991