Category: Poetry

Sep 29 2008

Muse in the Morning

By Robyn in Art, Community, Poetry

Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XVIII

Art Link

Glimmers in the Dark Recesses

A New Life

There was a man whose life was meaningless

Filled with self-hate and bitterness.

He was an empty husk of a human being

Because he denied his core existence.

As the days slowly passed by

He wondered what life was meant to be.

As the years slowly accumulated

He wondered what love was.

Inside the dim recesses of his mind

Was a glimmer of another life.

Crouched in the corner of his brain

Afraid of the light of day.

The man came to a place and time

Where there was no point to his life.

He gave up trying

To find the path to happiness.

But as his life crumpled into non-being

The sliver of consciousness in his brain

Asked if it could have a try

At finding love and acceptance.

The man gave up his body

To the new being who fearfully

Peeked out from the prison

That was the man’s fear of living.

She was a timid being

Having known no other emotion

Save an all-consuming fear

Of being discovered.

Now she had nowhere to hide

And was forced to learn how to survive.

As she came forward to greet the sun

Society drew back in horror.

She tried to show

That she was better now,

At last a whole person.

But Society was filled with fear.

She changed the man’s body

Into something she thought

Society would accept.

But Society would not forget the past.

So she was cast out from the nest

Alone in the wilderness

Of loneliness and desolation of the soul.

And she could not understand.

How could Society be so fearful

That it preferred the desolate

Former inhabitant of that body

To the loving being she had become?

–Robyn Elaine Serven

–July, 1993

Sep 27 2008

I Am

By For What It’s Worth in Poetry

I am the interim,

The woman in between

The love you lost and the love that earns your heart.

The interim is me.

We will sing and dance through all our days

With feet bare and loose hair.

I will take off my clothes when you’re in the mood.

Dancing and singing and loving will compose us.

I will cook for you, three meals a day,

And clean your house and wash your clothes.

I will not do these things well,

But you can count on something to eat, something to wear.

I will comb your hair, and I will braid it

Like a warrior or a lover to fit your mood.

You will never feel the tangles when I comb them.

We will shower, and I will wash your hair for you.

We will drive at night, and smoke,

And sometimes we will stop beside the water

Or visit the mountains and dream of living there.

And when we dream, we will laugh without control.

Then eventually, something will happen to (you and me),

A separation that only occurs

Because what can’t exist can’t last for long.

Always, I must go my own way,

Out of the interim, into the woman between.

Sep 27 2008

Memories, Coming In Waves

By For What It’s Worth in Poetry

I remember the first time I saw you

Playing chess with Jeff on Clayton Street,

The 409 House, a ministry for street people.

David introduced Jeff to Pat and me after the game,

But my eyes were on you.

I remember the first time we spoke.

A boy gave me charge of a big, black dog

his mother wouldn’t let him keep.

You said, “That’s a big dog.”

I said, “I’m trying to find a home for him.”

I remember the night you lost your virginity.

Sweet love.

I remember sleeping beside you in Panhandle Park.

It was a sunny day in early fall.

I remember sitting on the floor with Pat and Jeff and David

In a hotel apartment on Market Street,

And you sat, cross-legged, shoulders bent slightly,

with your elbows on your knees,

And your head tilted toward us as you told stories–

Tales of Heinlein and of your travels.

Now your stories bring back these memories.

Every thought immerses me.

I’m about to drown in memory.

16 comments

Sep 26 2008

Muse in the Morning

By Robyn in Art, Community, Poetry

Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XVII

Art Link

Abyss

Time enough tomorrow

At the edge

of the abyss

I looked Death

in the skull

gave myself

permission

to jump

or fall

no need to rush

borrowed time

is golden time

Every day is

not today

Fear gone

becomes anger

becomes me not

Best to bathe

in the river

of my truth

and invite others

to join me

while I laugh

–Robyn Elaine Serven

–January 13, 2006

Sep 25 2008

Muse in the Morning

By Robyn in Art, Community, Poetry

Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XVI

Art Link

Weed

Is There a Place for Me?

Is there a place for me

Among the beings of light?

Or must I grow like a fungus

Alone in the musty dark?

Am I like a wildflower

Providing beauty in the wilderness?

Or am I like a weed

That needs to be removed from a lawn?

Can I find someone

Who will love me as I am?

Or am I to be doomed

To a life of loneliness?

Is there a place for me

Where I can thrive and provide beauty?

Or am I forever condemned

To the dark ugliness of society’s cellar?

–Robyn Elaine Serven

–July, 1993

Sep 24 2008

Muse in the Morning

By Robyn in Art, Community, Poetry

Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XV

Art Link

Eyes

Exuviation

Like sloughing off

old skin

leaving chunks

along a life path

flaying myself alive

stashing a lump here

and a sliver there

One must tear down

before one rebuilds

sometimes embracing

portions of the past

bits left behind

sometimes not

always hoping

that joy might arise

from burying pain

and trying to forget

where it was left

–Robyn Elaine Serven

–January 24, 2006

Sep 23 2008

Muse in the Morning

By Robyn in Art, Community, Poetry

Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XIV

Art Link

Incompletion

Unfinished Woman

Some assembly required.

Includes non-factory installed equipment.

Read instructions completely before beginning.

Mistakes are not correctable.

Insert tab A into slot B.

Batteries are not included.

–Robyn Elaine Serven

–June, 1993

Sep 22 2008

Muse in the Morning

By Robyn in Art, Community, Poetry

Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XIII

Art Link

In Pairs

New Tricks
riffs on a theme

Discontinuity

Total refusal

to be who I was

balked at the concept

finally stood up

New environment

Learn to fit in

or face rejection

Is it ever enough?

There are always bigots

“Learning to fly

but I ain’t got wings”

And coming down

can smash your face

into the ground

It’s like trying

to pair up old socks

only much more serious

What portion is me

and what part pretense?

Non-vital essence

What only exists

for the sake of appearance

for convenience

for comfort, safety?

Being dead is safe

eventually

Learning is so hard

Learning how to exist

painfully harder

There is no blueprint

no textbook to consult

nor guide on this trail

I am a teacher

I must lead myself

–Robyn Serven

–January 25, 2006

Sep 19 2008

Muse in the Morning

By Robyn in Art, Community, Poetry

Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XII

Art Link

Bits and Bytes

E-spacing

There is no sound but the clickety-clack of fingers on the keyboard

There are no sights but the electronically formed letters on the screen

But there are people in my computer

Riding the crest of the technological future

And I have joined them

We have stripped ourselves down to the thoughts we express

Mind meeting mind with no distractions

The carefully chosen phrase can be undone

By the carelessly tossed word

A misplaced comma may cost a friendship

We become our vocabulary and our usage of it

Our emotions are expressed only through punctuation

Yet we bare our souls to each other

And form relationships deeper than those in the real world

Because we must always trust each other

Finland, Australia, South Africa and Canada

Maine, Virginia, New Hampshire and Kansas

Baltimore, Cleveland, San Francisco and Boston

I have trod on your virtual streets today

And visited with some of your most caring inhabitants

We embrace each other thought to thought

And love each other’s wisdom

We share our joys and pain

And support each other through our sorrows and triumphs

This is life in e-space

–Robyn Elaine Serven

–June, 1993

Sep 18 2008

Muse in the Morning

By Robyn in Art, Community, Poetry

Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry XI

Art Link

Tangles and Ripples

Friends

There came a time

when folks had to choose

whether they knew me or not

Most of them fled

unable to cope

or unwilling to try

The few who remained

faced questioning

of their own motives

for standing by me

New friends were made

some would deem

questionable

outsiders

the dregs to some

who recognized me

as one of their own

newly arrived

or maybe just

freshly met

–Robyn Elaine Serven

–January 19, 2006

Sep 17 2008

Muse in the Morning

By Robyn in Art, Community, Poetry

Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry X

Art Link

Isolation

Loneliness and Isolation

The mind–yearning, seeking, questing, emerging–female.

The body–betraying the mind–male.

Can one express what it feels like to be transsexual?

Before I was man and was treated like man.

After I will be woman.

Now I am both/neither.

Neither generally wins, excluded from both.

Is it too difficult for others to comprehend

Or is it too difficult for me to explain?

Is there anyone who will accept me as I am

Or will I only be accepted/rejected

For who I was/will be?

Loneliness and isolation nip at the edges of my being.

Certainty becomes expectation.

Expectation becomes hope.

Hopes become dreams.

The dreams dissipate into nothingness.

Another friend is gone.

New friends are made.

Life changes but why must the bridge be so tenuous?

Loneliness and isolation blur my consciousness.

Why must others always bring up the past

Which has become so foreign to me?

The events are there but the feelings are gone.

How do I describe the deeper feelings that have replaced them?

Emotions long submerged boil to the surface

And erupt full-blown into the mind

But there is no one present with whom to share them.

Loneliness and isolation crowd around my soul.

How do I explain the feeling of hormones

Coursing through my body,

Changing it to fit the mind?

How do I deal with the sexuality, the sensuality

Exploding in every nerve ending?

When there is nobody with whom to explore these sensations,

Time slows considerably.

How does one measure the growth of a breast?

With a watch, a sundial, a calendar, or with a life?

Loneliness and isolation seek to smother my existence

–Robyn Elaine Serven

–November, 1992

Sep 16 2008

Muse in the Morning

By Robyn in Art, Community, Poetry

Muse in the Morning

A Transition through Poetry IX

Art Link

Passing through Grey

The Letter

This is just a note

to say goodbye

and warn you

and them…and me

of the drastic change

in our life paths

lying on the other side

of the passage of night

to introduce the person

you will meet tomorrow

when I return

as someone else

a plea to you

to help nurture

this fragile seed

as it germinates

and a heads up

so you can view

or maybe cause

the lighting of the fuse

that will initiate

the explosion

of our separate

and joint realities

a call to witness

the mass reactions

designed to crush

the life out of me

–Robyn Elaine Serven
–September 29, 2006