Tag Archives: poetry

Poetry, Thoughts on Life

Shadows of My Life

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The shadows of my life stream by


The lights and darks of my old ties


Blacks and whites, they seem to last


Beyond the strum and stress and cries.


The pain and triumphs of the past


The house I thought was warm and vast


Now small and simple and so dim


Shadows that are hard to grasp.


These shadows shape my dreams of him


What was true and what was sin


But shadows fade and then unfold


It’s time to let new life begin.


Which shadows should I keep and hold


What stories should I let be told


I grasp the new becoming bold


I grasp the new becoming bold.


Poetry

Who Am I?

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This poem, Who Am I, appears in The House Loved Us…A Collection of Poems about Life and Loss. How do you define yourself? Can you? What if it changes day by day?

I am tough, strong, fierce, powerful, bright,

achieving, that is, I’m that way today.

I work hard, believe in the work ethic, have lots to do, children, grandchildren, bills, worry, writing, and work.

Sometimes I think I’m a writer. I had two rejections. Does that make me a writer?

I am a successful mother, a failure with men.

I am in perpetual motion, but often feel as if I’m standing still.

I’m someone who always worries about money. My worry has nothing to do with how much or how little I have in the bank.

I love ideas, ideas about anything, gardening, meaning, the future of the planet, how to cook asparagus.

I started out being conventional, but somehow it didn’t work for me.

I love newness and hope each day will bring something different.

I’m a professional, believe in professionalism, and try to be professional, even if it kills me.

I’m bright, dull, insecure, confident, smart, not knowing, passionate, distant, anxious, brave, generous, mean, conventional, and daring.

I am a mother, daughter, sister, aunt, grandmother, niece, friend, lover, woman, professor, feminist, humanist.

I’m constantly changing my mind about who I am and where I’m going.

Inside the Book, Thoughts on Life

I Am The Heart

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from The House Loved Us…A Collection of Poems About Life and Loss

I am the heart

that beats for family

beats for women

beats for all

Sing a song of care

Let my heart beat loudly

when life tries to end that force.

I beat for those I love

I hear the cries

of people, men,

women, children

crying for their losses.

Let my heart not harden

against the people who

have hardened their

hearts against me.

I am the heart

Sometimes broken

by the weight

of misdeeds, of

cries that harbor

in the body of the heart.

I beat for those I love

who do the right thing

no matter the price

they pay.

I am the heart

one of many

conscious of the burden of people

everywhere.

Hear the wails of

broken marriages, loss

of family, the quiet

whimpers of the

sleeping child.

Sometimes no one hears me

no matter how strong

the heart beats.

I am the heart

joyous but

afflicted with

the sorrows of the world.

The heart is heavy,

burdened

I can’t do everything.

When my heart is broken

and weeps and weeps

but then revives itself

open, ready for the love

kindness, and generosity,

of nameless spirits.

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Life Treats – a Poem about Food

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As we gear up for another round of New Year’s Resolutions that inevitably include eating healthier, I came back to a poem I wrote some time ago on this very theme. Of course, it wasn’t so much about eating healthier back then. It was just about maintaining that certain type of figure. You might think that would matter less over time, but it turns out that is not the case.

Come be with me

And we shall feast

On all the foods

I hate to eat.

Potatoes, ice-cream

candy galore

Goodbye to foods

we did adore.

No breads, spaghetti

or red meat.

All the foods

that are a treat.

Where’s the chocolate

the cake to munch.

Goodbye, goodbye

Now what’s for lunch?

Lettuce, spinach

What a treat

Are we doomed forever

these things to eat? 

Come eat with me

and we no more

Will feast on foods

we both adore.

Come eat with me

and we will prove

How abstinence molds

the body smooth.

salad vs dessert
Inside the Book, Poetry

Identity

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I always think I’m
not in the right place
at the right time
doing the right thing
whatever right is.
I always feel that I’m
not wearing the right clothes
no matter how many clothes I buy.
Sheila always seems
perfectly groomed,
informal for informality
tailored for such occasions,
wearing stockings while
I go bare-legged to the theater
feeling gross,
not dressed correctly
not in concert
with my age, status, or place in life.
The next time
I wear stockings
and she looks perfect
in jeans
and a red shirt.
Lucy gets a job
selling insurance
and I think that’s the right thing
even though I hate selling
and hate insurance.
But for one long week
I read the business section
of the New York Times
thinking I should
apply for those jobs.
but I never do.

Inside the Book, Poetry

You’re Right, I am Contentious

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I wouldn’t say I feel like this all the time. But there are moments. I wanted to share this poem because I feel it’s something a lot of people can relate to. This poem is from The House Loved Us, available on Amazon.

When you give me a bottle of

bath oil for my birthday after

seeing I only take showers.

Or you say you admire me for all

my close relationships and then

sulk when I visit a needy

friend.

When the son I adore

can’t get a job

in the public sector

because there is no longer

any interest in the

public interest

When my childhood friend,

now sick, divorced

and the mother of

two teenage boys

can’t get enough

food stamps

under Reaganomics.

When my mother asks me

to come for a visit,

and when I do

berates me for never

coming to visit.

When the local policeman

gives me a ticket

on the first day of Spring,

after he hides in the bushes

waiting to make me feel like

a criminal for not making

a complete stop.

And my daughter’s landlord

who reveres Polish solidarity,

reads The Nation

and believes he believes

in the common man

raises her rent illegally.

I bristle when the

local town officer asks

a twenty-five-year resident

to notarize a statement that his

grown daughter really lives

with him since her divorce.

I feel contentious…

When I never have enough money no matter

 how hard I work.

When I feel life has suddenly gone by and I have

 only done one-third the things I wanted to.

When a close friend refers to someone as

 a Jew boy.

When I realize I’m just one person.

Uncategorized

Advice to Writers

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Rhoada Wald started her writing career later in life after spending years in academia. A move from the house where she had raised her three children on her own inspired her to capture some of her memories and she just kept going. She’s written about that house, her family, her travels and more. Her stories capture the large emotional struggles of life along with the small defining moments of joy. Though she doesn’t travel as much as she used to, she is still exploring the world with her words.

What’s your advice to writers?

I can’t just sit down and write a poem, it just comes out. 

I write more when I’m going through a transition, or a crisis, or I’m feeling something intensely.

I think to take a course is a good idea. It gives you an incentive.

Do it. Just try. Sit down every day, even if it’s just for 15 minutes. Don’t lose the momentum.

Don’t edit when you write! Edit when you’ve finished writing.

Rhoada’s latest book, The House Loved Us, is available on Amazon

writer
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The Inside Story and Poetry Reading

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How do you release a book in a pandemic when everyone has to stay socially distant? On Zoom, of course! People want to stay connected so we connect on video.

It’s just amazing to me to see what we can do. And here I am, keeping up with all this technology.

I recently did an interview with my editor, Jennifer Powell, and a poetry reading. It’s different than being with people, but hopefully it still has meaning for those who see it.

Now that restrictions are changing, hopefully we can get together more in person. But for now, take a look and hear more from the new book, The House Loved Us.

Thoughts on Life

I Want

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chocolate-ice-creamI want to eat all the chocolate ice cream I want without getting fat

I want to find an apartment in NewYork that I can afford, with a terrace and wonderful view of the harbor.

I want never to go into therapy again.

I want to be surrounded by gifted people who think grand thoughts, are never petty, and love me no matter what I do.

I want to know I’ll never have cancer or become a cabbage in my old age, that I’ll always be financially independent.

I want my ex-husband to approve of me, tell me how much he thinks I’ve accomplished since the divorce and what a good job I did bringing up the children.

I want to get a really good night’s sleep.

I want to be one of those people who is always coming back from some exotic place having a grand adventure traveling alone on  a shoestring.

I want to ride my bike down long, narrow  country trails again.

I want to live a conventional life but have everyone think I’m adventurous offbeat and exciting.

I want to have a lover who is good in bed. I want to be proud of him. I want him not to be into games or power. I want him to love me and be committed to me, and i want to do my own thing and not be bothered too much.

I want all women to be successful and smart and believe in the right causes, and be wonderful. I want to be proud of them. I want that for men too, but not as much.

I don’t want everybody to like me because that means I don’t stand for anything, but I want the right people to like me.

I want to be able to take a few drags on a cigarette occasionally without becoming a smoker again.

I want to write a really good poem.

 

 

Poetry

Identity

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I always think I’m
not in the right place
at the right time
doing the right thing
whatever right is.

I always feel that I’m
not wearing the right clothes
no matter how many clothes I buy.
Sheila always seems
perfectly groomed,
informal for informality
tailored for such occasions,
wearing stockings while
I go bare-legged to the theater
feeling gross,
not dressed correctly
not in concert
with my age, status, or place in life.
so the next time
I wear stockings
and she looks perfect
in jeans
and a red shirt.

Lucy gets a job
selling insurance
and I think that’s the right thing
even though I hate selling
and hate insurance.
but for one long week
I read the business section
of the New York Times
thinking I should
apply for those jobs.
but I never do.