Receiving (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

No more a whisper,
an awkward name
in circles of disdain
rolling off lips
in criticism, praise, jokes
contrast and comparisons
seeming to know
Jesus
All mixed up
the good the bad
"sinners"
all of us the same
I wrestle with it all and resist others' call.
How I detest those who self appointment themselves with the task of sorting it out for the rest of us;
confusion, distance, self doubt, self hatred, paralysis,
we wonder where these come from.
I find joy in partaking of the gift that comes
from not knowing but receiving the gift of being.

Silliness (A poem by Cathy Gruman)

A joyful day involved silliness with people who let themselves be free and fun not being stifled by anyone.
Sharing of food and drinks and a bad but brilliant old school horror film in silent mode brought laughter and jokes and pokes.
The dogs ran free in the house and the humans sat on the couch.
Walking in the dark to the car elicited a blood curdling scream, screech and a gasp when the tree posed as a zombie from the very bad movie.
And we laughed almost all the way home.

You, me and this (A poem by Cathy Gruman)

you be you and I'll be me
and we'll sort this thing out together
i'll try not to overlook your point of view
while attempting to express my own
i've already made a poor assumption
before we even begin
that we can promote our needs simultaneously
may one of us step back and allow the other to speak first?

Appalachian named a Best Southeastern College by the Princeton Review » News Archive » Appalachian State University News

Appalachian named a Best Southeastern College by the Princeton Review » News Archive » Appalachian State University News

The Sun that Day (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

The day he died
his body lay exposed on the hospital bed, my boys huddled near;
their grandpa, his grandsons; our loss, we grieved.
While driving home on the 605 Freeway South,
all was still.
I looked at the sky; a soft solid dull blue, showcasing the sun.
A full and perfectly round ball of orange fire resting on the horizon,
reminding me of the warm steady light he was in our lives.

Present Day (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

If He is God and knows our every thought
then we have no need to pretend
Perhaps our focus is pleasing others
and has nothing to do with Him at all,
although we want others to believe that to be the case
If His promises are real
then we should be living like
royal children in a kingdom of love peace and joy
without worry or regret
and maybe we would stop hating ourselves
masked with lists of things to do
and reminding ourselves of what we haven't done
acting in a way that doesn't reflect who we are
putting a dull and grim light around our countenance,
a result of keeping ourselves captive
What would please Him most is simply to be in His presence,
do we know what that really means
or have we concocted several notions developed
in our small brains
among conversationalists and institutions
and guilt ridden fear
Can we sit with the thought of simply being in His presence and see what it might bring?
If we don't think that is enough, then perhaps we have missed the whole point of His creation and He is not the God He says He is.

creating chaos (a Poem by Cathy Gruman)

creating chaos from a pile of rubble
when it could have remained calm.
If only they knew that what was before them was non-threatening
and only mere clutter.

june gloom (a poem by Cathy Gruman)

june gloom
gets swept away like a broom
july sets in
almost passes before the fireworks begin
yesterday's not coming back
but it's only perfection we all lack
bring it all forward or leave it alone;
or sift out the cluttery mess that has grown.
august and september will be here soon
bringing me october
with the Harvest moon.

Blessings (A poem by Cathy Gruman)

Guidelines are helpful
when we need them,
important points, rules can keep us safe.
Boundaries keep relationships straight.
Books and videos, discussion groups, meet-ups, studies, sermons and classes.
All good, can be necessary and right, and might I say, much needed - at times.
Taking things slow, caution and propriety can be our friends.
But there is a time and a purpose for everything under the sun.
And when God plops that blessing in your lap
without notice or an outline of next steps,
don't hesitate.
Just take it and enjoy the blessing.

Question the Question (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

Ask the question
Question the question
Beg the question
Listen to the answer
Rely on nothing
But the truth inside you
Telling you what is
who is
and who He is to you.
Break down the box
Flat
Stomp out the chatter
The clutter
The strain
Until nothing remains
but the flat smooth surface
Of nothing
Nothing in the way of listening
Hearing
Responding
Being
Living
Feeling
Fresh blood pumping through your veins
You’re ready to fly and begin again.

Love Wins (A Poem by Cathy Gruma)

Someone lied to me
and told me I needed to even the score;
that I must mock back;
they have to understand what they did to me
before I forgive them.
Someone lied to me
when they told me
to "put them in their place"
to stay away until they finally wake up
and do their part
to satisfy my need to be accepted and understood by them;
until they say,
"Oh, I am sorry
you didn't deserve that
you deserve so much more
I was wrong
I acted wrongly toward you
I am so sorry."
Someone lied to me
when they told me to get revenge
that turning the other cheek was a fairytale for weaklings;
the only thing to do is fight
to make them see
to get justice
for me.
As long as I live
I may never see justice for me.
I may never hear the words I need to hear
to help me let go and forgive,
but the lies I have heard will not remedy my soul
nor increase my understanding.
Forgive
Let go and see
not with hate or from a resentful place;
the truth is opposite
of what that liar said to me.
The truth chooses love
believes in love
lives love;
and knows that love has more power than the strongest and most powerful army of sticks, stones, guns, and words, of plans, schemes, retaliation and fear.
Love wipes out fear
brings peace.
That liar is still stalking me,
but his voice is muffled
because I choose not to listen.
Love wins.

I Remember (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

Horses and bikes and pools,
books and puzzles, coloring books and board games,
homemade cookies and cinnamon toast.
Homemade daisy curtains, I helped you make them.
They were yellow and orange on white cotton.
We squeezed the acrylic paint from the tube onto the fabric.
Eggs and bacon always seemed to be enough,
and Jello.
Hardwood floors and bunkbeds,
Hide and go seek until sundown, you always brought us in before dark.
Waiting for a Cinderella movie to begin,
we watched the clock in your bedroom, with the hands moving slowly to 7 p.m.
I remember your big hip earrings
your pretty hair
your pretty face
your eyeliner and mascara
and pretty lipstick
your "Jackie O" look.
I remember looking at you,
your walk dignified, your posture strong and elegant
but soft.
The little white church
where you brought us
and taught us.
The potlucks,
your singing groups and choir friends,
your laugh, your smile, your fun,
your face.
I remember our home
that you made for us
I remember you, mom
You.

Humbled by a Crackhead (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

I learned about love from a crack head today.
I was blue and he was sober, his three hundred and eighty-sixth day.
In the parking lot we were talking.
I was troubled and he was thankful.
His life was turning around.
Dreadlocks and a missing tooth,
and he was smiling.
I told him my woes,
and he listened.
He used his history
to reveal a mystery
that his brokenness
is what put him together.
His history didn't fit today's story.
It made no sense to me.
Then I realized
as I looked into his eyes,
behind his face was saving grace.
The part that broke him
was no longer his disgrace.

Water (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

I need a new handbag
My hair needs a trim
In three more weeks I’ll see results from the gym
My morning coffee, a dewy walk
Pretty trees and people with their houses stocked

“I need a drink of water.”

And tonight I’ll watch a movie
scan through the channels
putter around with all my things
straighten the clutter
obsess over what I need

“I’m thirsty, can you help me carry this pot,I have two more miles”

All my plans seem worthy
my education intact
with wiggle room for error
no monkey on my back
The movie’s at three
and all I have to do is this and that
grab a bite to eat
and maybe when I get there I’ll pig out on popcorn
Heaven knows I don’t need it, but it’s the movies...

“My mouth is dry, my feet are sore and I ache.”

I hear a subtle voice
I turn away
It's not a blatant image
but shades of gray
until I turn and look it will remain vague and have nothing to do with me
but if I look straight into his eyes I"ll see.

Oversights tragically ignored.

Darkness Crushed (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

She couldn’t see a way
Her life had been taken over by these last few years, living out the path she had chosen.
She didn’t see a way out
Darkness surrounded her
Her flesh showed the stains of moments she would try to carve away the pain
But the sorrow remained
Her soul is marred
A light glimmers faintly in the distance
Flickering like a match about to go out but steady, promising to stay
She wanted to go there but forces within her held her down and she couldn’t break away

And before His final breath, He said “It is finished.”
And as the prophets spoke before
The curtain torn
Our flesh he bore abolished in the grave
Death no longer had its sting
What they knew now
Was different from before
The earth rumbled in triumph and defeat
And the depths of hell screamed in defiance and conquered feat
His body was laid in a tomb
with a massive stone and guards
His family wept, still confused
The sun stopped shining as the brightest star was in the grave
But as promised like the promises before that came to pass, every one of them before
He rose on the third day
His Father’s side he will abide
His spirit with us now
With promise of his return
Another promise to endure, to wait upon
But like the others that were fulfilled
We continue to move on
What does this mean to you and me?

She will get up off of the floor, even without strength; she’ll reach to where the light is and faintly mutter the words “help me”, because it’s all she has within her to convey her deepest need – but she knows, she knows it’s where she needs to be. Because of the meaning of “It is finished” her need is taken into His hands and she begins to see the light, once flickering in her peripheral vision, is now enveloping her and embracing the stain that once had hold of her but is now behind her.

Time to Abate (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

Much lost
much hate
held on too long
our love is gone.
Letting go was slow -
too slow to free the robin's song,
who flew away
to breath
to see
to soar;
could not take another day's roar.
No forgiveness
suffocation
emasculation
dead air
without the river's flow.
The window's stuck; the last day open was early spring before the unexpected storm,
and when the rains came
our lives were torn.
Dead today
could be alive tomorrow
if we let go.
It's time to abate the force of holding on to the past;
let the robin sing with joy,
and throw the window open to feel the wind again.

The Hope of Your Life (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

The darkness continued and He held on
to the hope and the glory of His Father’s song.
His early years he played
Safe, warm, adored
with his mother near.
And as the chapters turn,
He’s 33 and wearing thorns.
I know who I am
I know whom I love
I know my Father is watching and crying from above;
and for all of you I’m here today;
it is for your lives that I stayed.
The next moment you will not understand
I will seem to disappear from this land.
My body broken,
my face my limbs, my blood - they show defeat,
but my hope and courage are shouting loudly
I am breaking through the clouds
The task is finished,
and into my Father’s hands I go.
Now the hope of your life will surely show.

The Clouds Grew Darker (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

And even He, who claimed to be the Son of the Father of you and me
was frightened on this day.
The end was nearing
still no light
the clouds grew darker
his familiar power seemed not in sight.
And as the crowd shouted
confusion
loss
hate
empathy
apathy
surprise
laughter
cruelty
and dispair;
his body torn beyond repair.
His mother sobbed and screamed with his blood in her hair.
The power He knew
felt far away
but in His pain he chose to stay.
What a fool some would say
what a liar
only a lunatic would last this long -
and in my hour of need
when I forget that He chose to bleed,
is when that moment He held on because He trusted His Father's song
of a new day in three
renews my strength to carry on.

Neighborhood Walk (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

Early morning walk to the coffee shop
through my neighborhood, just a few blocks away
This time passion tea with slices of orange
Coffee’s on the shelf for a while,
results of this are pending.
And as I walked I thought about my neighbors
of whom I do not know
Street to street I walked
iTunes snuggled in my ear,
with a mix of songs I like to hear
Each street had its own special glow
Pretty houses with green, brown, yellow, blue, gray, red and orange
and sidewalks lined with flowers and rocks
English gardens and desert landscapes
chairs on porches neatly swept.
I sent good thoughts and silent prayers,
for their happiness and lessened tears.
My son’s window I tapped with a pebble
The curtains opened
I saw his smile
he stumbled to the door from his sleep.
with tousled hair and open arms, we embraced and said I love you
then I continued down the street.
I should mention that it made my day.
I stopped at a yard sale and bought a hand-made pillow cover
from a fellow who held a “Diva Yard Sale” sign
It had yellows, blues, greens and cream in between
We spoke a while, he shared his dreams
Just neighbors, nothing in between.
Then we parted with a smile
And as I walked up to my place
warm thoughts of my neighbors were on my face.

My Trike (a Poem by Cathy Gruman)

that's my trike
grrrrrhhhh
don't let my low growl fool you
you're sitting on my trike
grrrrrrr.....
you're bigger than me
but i'm watching you
and when you move
i'll move
faster than lightening
and snatch it back
let's walk to the duck pond
i'll drag my trike
grrrrrrhhhhh
you can walk with me
but don't touch my trike
i'll ride it when i want to
put my feet on the pedals
when i want to
i'll ride it backwards
and drag my feet
if i want to
slowly we walk to the pond
to see the turtles and the ducks
hold my trike while i play with the ducks
but don't go anywhere
because i'll find you
grrrrrhhhh....
you're all surrounding me
but back off on my trike
or i'll strike.

Snowflake Day (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

Snowflakes falling
tires treading
we're tromping on this february afternoon;
through the streets our boots will take us
to where we find our vegan treats.
Store facades and buildings stand
to greet us in this new land.
The snow keeps falling on our face
as we're tromping through
with giddy awe of this new place.
A cup of coffee we will find,
the lack of soy puts me in a bind
and you start to wind.
Artwalk studio
lots of fun
for a while
then I'm done;
keep on looking is what you do
so i go outside to tie my shoe
but it's cold so i come back in
my feet are wet
so I whine again.
Vegan store
Eureka!
We go inside
in our new diets we will abide
casing the store
we look around
alas, a wall of "sweets"
we love this town.

On "Purpose" (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

His will
my will
uphill
downhill
you
me
yours
mine;
where will i be tomorrow?
Everything i am is thine.
If i say no
will you say yes
should i go
should i stay
if i take that step today
will you stop me
for my sake
or yours,
or his or hers or theirs?
Can i depend on you
and you alone;
and should i pick up that stone that was just thrown
or leave it be, silently.
Every now and then i hear your voice;
it's in my heart
and it's my choice.
Some will say to do this or that
they see my life from where they're at
pretending not to hurt or cry
everything's fine,
they won't whine
because if they show some fear or weakness
perhaps the truth might hurt and they will be found out;
so a smile they keep
pretending along
singing and dancing the same boring song -
"How are you?" "Oh, I'm great, thanks!"
"I am this and I am that"
But, could revealing pain and shame bring possible triumph
in this walk through hills, valleys, walls, fences and windows without a frame?
Does a soft petal have the same impact as a "bull in a china shop?"
Now back to You from that aside.
Occasional hurt is fine, i say
as long as you pick me up even when I do not pray,
and there is a purpose for everything under the sun;
it's what you've said
and what you meant -
to some absurb
but others peace,
and knowing that if i go this way or that
with a soft and open heart
i will find my way
as long as of you I am part.

Sea of Faces (a Poem by Cathy Gruman)

a sea of faces in this room
taken aback as i see a similarity between them and me
beyond their hair and makeup
their coats and hats and trendy shoes
with no gratuitous smiles
because they know it's what's inside that counts;
if they keep going, victory is near
lay it on the table
without fear
a beautiful sea of faces
transparent
honest
vulnerable
glowing truths preside
as all their fears begin to subside.

"A Side of Humankind" (A poem by Cathy Gruman)

he learned a new side of people this day
when he was walking to the dime store with his ten cents
a kite he was going to buy
to take it out and fly
he was seven
off he went to get his kite
the kite he grabbed
the merchant paid
and he headed out the door
across the way a bully stood
and eyed this little boy
walking innocently
ready to go out and fly.
And as the bully crossed the street
the youngster had no fear
because up until this moment
he had only good people near
love and security are what he'd known
so his instincts were properly shown
the bully grabbed his kite and broke it in half across his knee
just laughed and walked away
as his eyes welled up
the tears began to flow
the shock kicked in as he lost his innocent glow
he never knew until this day
that there was more to life than play
some people laugh, some cry
some things are happy, sometimes sad
he had even seen his dad mad;
these things he knew
they were familiar,
but in this moment
all he felt was why.

I'll be back soon

Hi all, I'm stuck .... can't seem to get those words out. hmmmmmm..... i'll say something soon.

What Can I Say? (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

I heard that you said that I said something about you.
Since I'm not sure if it's true, there's nothing I can say
or is there?
I think it's best to leave it alone
let it work itself out
Maybe one day you'll see
that you shouldn't have listened
to the person who spoke of me
untruthfully
that I am still me
the one you know
who wouldn't throw that stone at you
but maybe a ball of snow
if this were Colorado or Idaho
'cuz what can I say
except stop it now
I wouldn't say something to hurt you
don't you know?

Happy Twenty Ten

Happy Twenty-Ten everyone. I sort of slowed down with daisycurtains the last couple of months of 2009, but am looking forward to picking up my pace again as we enter into a new year. I'm not good at new year's resolutions, but I am good at hoping and dreaming, so I HOPE I can pick up the pace and get back to daily writing. Oh come on Cate, you know better than that. I need to commit myself to the task in order to make it happen, not merely hoping and dreaming that my hands will end up on my laptop everyday producing words. I'm psyching myself up, mulling the words around in my head, thinking of themes, drawing from inspiration and experiences, forgiving past hurts, looking forward to the future, clearing my head and my brain, getting closer to sitting down to write my next poem. But not just yet. I can say, however, with determination and commitment, that before I go to bed tonight, I will write at least four lines. Meanwhile, thank you for visiting, and have a wonderful first day of 2010. Best! Cate