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Poetry, Columns & Blogs
"I write to find out what I'm talking about."
~ Edward Albee
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Poetry
I think that poetry is the greatest form of expression. Sometimes I find it challenging and sometimes I find it so easy. In both cases, I often wonder if I was able to get my point across successfully.
Readers often interpret poetry in countless ways, which exposes the beauty of this timeless craft.
Words can mean so many different things to so many different people.
Below, I've included some poems from various periods of my life. Each one holds a special place in my heart.
Healing
Let’s not beat around the bush,
so to speak.
I’m weak.
Heart open, mind bleak.
Thoughts reel. So real.
It’s impossible to hide how I feel.
I wear my heart on my sleeve
On my face.
I’ve never tried to deceive
Or pull an about face.
Don’t think I ever could
Ever would.
Want to?
Sometimes I do.
Sometimes it helps, to relieve in itself
The pain.
When I see the sun
I hope for rain.
Then maybe I could feel clean again.
Then maybe I could breathe again.
Then maybe I could eat again.
I may be stuck at the moment …
But it’s just a moment.
A week from now I’ll laugh
At my dramatic, erratic, static feelings.
And I’ll think why?
Why all the tears, fears and misconceptions?
I guess that happens when I lose direction
Or fall off my path.
Somewhere, deep inside my hollow stomach
I know I’ll find
Courage, strength, and peace of mind
And put my faith
In time.
Time heals everything …
at least that’s what they tell me.
Resurrecting A Dream
Eighty-four, knees weak, arms sore
Sat in a chair, staring
Wondering when it began
When exactly had he stopped caring?
His brow creased, mind recalled
A love for singing sweetly
Bringing dancing feet to meet the beat
A dream that somehow ceased to be
His voice once pure and sharp
Tickled the ears of the congregation
Pickled by his determination
His father disapproved his art
Jaded, soul stifled, feathers ruffled
His dream faded, lost in the shuffle
Attention to his studies hardened
Gardened condescension for his father
Time climbed, years disappeared
Argued the law in front of a judge
Saw money roll in, prosecuted crime
Inside him grew a tiny grudge
Held against those who had decided
Confided in him, their dreams
And chose to follow their desire
As he was supposed to have done
Regret saddened, belly fattened
Hair receded in the mirror
A reflection maddened his stare
How had life gotten so unfair?
Money, family, should be happy
Could have traveled another path
Pulled his wife aside, said, “honey”
“I think this marriage has unraveled at last.”
Heart broken, words unspoken
Spent life alone, uninspired
Tired of the law, soon fired
Moved on from the place he called home
Now he sat, spent days reading
Felt old, out of touch, in a haze
Awoke one morning, told himself
“I’m much to young to be in mourning”
Crept along the sidewalk, cane in hand
Stood on the corner of the street
Belted a song, clapped the beat
People swept by, tossed bills at his feet
Day after day, hour after hour
His voice danced along the breeze
No longer sour at his life choice
He took a chance, followed a dream
Joyful faces, smiles galore
People often wondered his story
Took many ways, many miles
For him to arrive at this place of glory
A local legend, they deemed
Famous for his vocal styling
An old man so gracious and beguiling
Never too old to realize a dream
This Is Me
Seagulls caw, cackle loudly
Breeze blows sand softly
Time ticks along the edge of the shore
I dip ankle deep
Rough rocks beneath my feet
The sky is clear, calm
Any fear once felt
breaks like the waves against the docks
Split in two then fade
I watch this as I wade
further up, to the knees
Icy cold tickles
giving rise to the hair on my arm
A shiver, then an embrace
Filled with fresh new feeling
A breath of something new
Reflection in the water
Shielding my eyes from the sunlight
"This is Me" I shout
Then splash away a smile
I haven't seen in quite some time
Bathing in new blessings
Happy just to be
Oh loving laughter escapes lips
This is me
The Woman In Me
Woman without the man
Expresses who I am
The woman in me
The true identity
In which I see
All that I can be
The simplicity of it all
Lies with in
The W stands for Will
Possessing strength and skill
A yearning to succeed
Hungry ambitions to feed
Conquering all inner fears
Courageous, despite the tears
Never slowing, ever growing
The Will lies with in
The O stands for Out
Like water pouring from its spout
Flowing forcefully from within
Bringing forth a confident grin
A charisma to my walk
Articulation when I talk
Slowly possessing,
ever expressing
The O lies with in
Woman without the man
Reveals who I truly am
I fulfill my own sensations
Beyond all other expectations
Without approval or supervision
I have come to my own decision
The simplicity of it all
Lies with in me
To Be OUT
Release.
Relief from my shoulders.
This boulder that I was able to push aside,
Leaving me stable, with the sensation
That I have nothing to hide.
Freedom.
Free at last.
Looking past the fear in my eyes,
Beyond the tears, without hesitation
I see clear skies.
Pride.
Raising my head high.
The shallow dread I left behind,
I looked inside and saw myself.
I believe in me.
Courage.
Having the strength to stand.
You gave me your hand without thought,
With this gesture you taught,
a life long lesson
I am normal after all.
Open
My world exists, for you to step in.
Beyond my eyes, behind my grin,
lies the untouchable.
The person that I hide,
but now I am willing, to let you inside.
My unspoken thoughts, I want you to hear.
All of me, My dreams and my fears.
No secrets kept.
No drama untold.
Read my every page
and let the story unfold,
till all that is left when you look in my eyes,
is the freedom of nonexistent lies.
Breathe me in, within you I will thrive
and know what it means, to feel truly alive.
First Time
Darkness looms
I cannot see
I feel your breath upon my skin
Sparking a nervous warmth
I reach for you
Sliding my palm across your cheek
So softly, afraid that you?ll break
Whispers reach my insides
Pulling them into knots
My flesh trembles
With each caress
Until your lips find mine
Timid at first touch
Growing hungry with each kiss
My mind races
No clear thoughts, just dizziness
Into you I slowly melt
White Canvas
When I catch a hint of you
I see your face in my mind
So clearly, eyes that penetrate
"Can you see me?"
Am I just a faded picture
A watercolor that has gotten wet
All of the colors running together
In an unrecognizable shade
Words to express my emotions
Escape my every whim
A song without a melody
A rose without its pedals
"I am incomplete."
My heart feels heavy
Weighing down my entire soul
Making every step a journey
Making every smile a chore
"No more thoughts."
I close my eyes ion frustrations
Until I can no longer see your face
Until there is nothing left
But a plain white canvas
Simplicity
A force inside pounds with fury
Could it be my heart
That echoes inside in my chest
With each pulsating beat
A tremor shakes violently
Could it be entangled nerves
That causes each limb to tingle
In an uncontrollable manner
A bead of moisture forms at my brow
Could it be my inhibition
That causes one salty drop
To roll silently down my cheek
A seductive warmth calms me
Could it be your soft lips
That sends a hurricane of feelings
To spin out of my control
It seems so strange, yet so familiar
It seems so conflicting, yet so agreeable
It is what I wanted, yet didn't recognize
It is nothing more than your simple kiss
Niagara's Seduction
Rushing, rolling currents fall
From the lofty cliff into a pool below
They dance feverishly with each other
My eyes fall hypnotized by the
Unbridled flood of water
Colliding with immovable stones
The seductive sound of chaotic currents
Sing inside my body causing
Every limb to tingle incessantly
Light beads of mist
sweep across my face
Leaving behind
the slightest sense of moisture
I close my eyes in exhilaration
Mother May I?
She tied my hair in ribbons
I untied them and my hair ran wild
She forced a cotton shirt over my head
I took it off and basked naked in the sun
She remembered days of girlie pom-poms
I dribbled a ball aggressively down the court
She often wondered who I was inside
I boasted that I was her only daughter
She cringed at my defiance
I cringed at her reluctance
Yet, somehow we connected
Through years of change when I finally
Wore a dress
She accepted our fate
I accepted our gender
We found a common strand
Which wove a mother and daughter
From two different textures
We knitted a quilt that I now use
When I get cold
Angel
I gazed solemnly into the endless
Blue sky
The colors mixed like a painting
Just before dawn
A breeze blew past me,
causing me to sigh
I suddenly saw your face above me,
An image as real as my beating heart
My body shivered,
disbelieving what I saw.
As the clouds around you began to part
The sun appeared within your eyes
As you spoke it began to rain
I embraced the downpour from the skies
Each drop sank into my skin
Relieving all the pain
"Although I am gone," you whispered
loud and clear
"Please understand
I will always be near."
First Impressions
Through a sea of unfamiliar faces
I walk alone
My glances fall on nothing
Is this to be my home?
Being a piece of the puzzle
I somehow fit my place
Similar feelings expressed
Fill up the empty space
To adjust is seemingly hard
To submit is always allowed
Yet . . . I do not give in
I merely blend with the crowd
Confusion
This woman's work
Love starts the craft
And I cannot help it
All the things I feel, I cannot control
All the things I want, do not exist
Not for me . . .
All the things I feel disappear, fade
Like a cycle they return, only to penetrate
And remind me of things I can never have
Or hope to feel
I will always wonder
And never accept where I want to belong
This is me, expressing all that I am
But never having the chance to live it
Instead, I will shove it down
Until it causes me to want to breathe
Until it causes me to scream
Until all I have left is a mumble of words
That I once longed to say out loud
to no one
Columns
I have opinions on a variety of things (as most people often do).
Once a month, I voice these opinions in a personal column for a gay/lesbian monthly magazine based in Buffalo, New York. You can read this column below as well as a fitness column that I write bi-monthly for The Buffalo News Health Quarterly called, "Fitness 101."
Once a month, I voice these opinions in a personal column for a gay/lesbian monthly magazine based in Buffalo, New York. You can read this column below as well as a fitness column that I write bi-monthly for The Buffalo News Health Quarterly called, "Fitness 101."
May 2008 Column
The "Whispers"
It A few weeks ago, when the NCAA tournament was wrapping up it’s 2008 run, ESPN aired a six-minute segment called “the whispers” about negative recruiting tactics in women’s college basketball on their investigative reporting show, Outside the Lines. Two days later, the segment was nowhere to be found.
The six-minute bit was filler, if not a less important part, of a longer, more in-depth look at the rivalry between legendary coaches Pat Summit and Geno Auriemma. Aired on Sunday with the segment intact, the powers that be at EPSN decidedly removed “the whispers” as if it never even existed. The video clip could no longer be found on the website and subsequent airings of the Geno and Pat feud ran without it included.
“The whispers” simply became just that — whispers.
What I don’t understand about this is the fact that ESPN took a brave step in initiating a conversation about a practice that is prevalent in women’s basketball only to sweep it under the rug a day or two later. Why even bother? Why open Pandora’s box if you are just going to close it.
Well, the answer is as good as any I suppose. It seems that any conversation in sports that centers on homosexuality is taboo. A big no, no. An elephant in the room. Whatever cliché you prefer, it doesn’t matter.
For those of you who didn’t see the segment or weren’t able to look it up online, I’ll gladly fill you in. “The whispers” made the blatant link between homophobia and the decline in the number of women coaches. Ever since the Pokey Chapman incident in March 2007, parents and athletes alike are more wary of attending any basketball program headed by a woman who is not married or has not yet developed a solid, wholesome reputation. If there are “whispers” surrounding her sexuality, well, that’s enough of a reason to play for some other school. Some colleges and universities use this to their advantage. They steer top recruits away from other programs by claiming their team and staff are free and clear of homosexuality. The “climate” is wholesome, the coach is family-oriented and no, you will not be exposed to any lesbian predators at our school.
Like it or not, this is what happens day in and day out in the world of women’s college basketball recruiting. Gone are the days of saying, “Our program is better because of academics and discipline.” Now it comes down to this — “Our program is better because we don’t believe in homosexuality.”
When I first saw the segment, my first thought was, “it’s about time.” I applauded ESPN for putting it out there, for trying to turn “whispers” into full on conversations, for opening a dialogue that is long overdo. And then, the titan of the sports media world crumbled in the face of adversity and cowered to whatever public outrage the segment must have produced. Why else would they have removed it? Someone must have complained. A sponsor perhaps? A university spokesman? Whoever it was must have surely had the upper hand. I mean, come on. This is ESPN, the most-watched sports network of the century! They wouldn’t just bow down to anybody, would they?
Imagine if every one of us who has come out of the closet decided to suddenly go back in. That’s exactly what this feels like. The conversation was started, the closet door opened and we were finally going to discuss the existence of homosexuality in women’s basketball instead of ignoring as we have done for years. Then the closet door abruptly closed and it’s as if the conversation never even existed.
ESPN aptly titled the segment “the whispers,” because now that’s all that exists — whispers. There are whispers about Pokey Chapman. There are whispers about lesbian coaches and players. And there are whispers about homosexuality in the WNBA and college basketball. Unfortunately, until we full address these whispers, that’s all they will remain. Whispers.
My favorite Outcome column:
September 2005 Column
Grandmotherly Advice
A few years ago, my twin brother moved to Boston, MA. My mother, father, grandmother and I all drove out with him. My father drove the rental van; my brother drove his beaten up Saturn. I had the pleasure of driving my father’s new maroon-colored Ford Taurus and although it was a slight advantage over the rest of the travelers, it wasn’t the best one. I also had the best passenger. My grandmother. She is a 94-year-old firecracker who was instrumental in my coming out. Believe it or not, she was the first family member I told.
While driving, Grandma could hardly sit still. She was so excited and was a chatterbox from the moment we left the driveway. Once we got out onto the highway, she began pointing out historical sites along the way. Historical in the fact that my great aunt Edith used to camp, right over there, on Cayuga Lake.
I nodded and smiled, letting her talk away. Every once and awhile a Maroon colored car would speed by us, and Grandma would yell, “There they go!” And I’d laugh, shake my head and say, “No, Grandma. We’re in the Maroon car.”
“Oh yeah,” she’d shrug and say it again an hour later.
We listened to music for a while too, classical movie soundtracks that she loved like Braveheart and Rudy. A Volkswagen Beetle passed by us and Grandma told me how she had almost bought one last year. But instead, she had pulled into our driveway in brand new blue Dodge Neon, complete with a spoiler on the back. “I just wanted a new car,” she said simply.
We drove in silence for a bit and moments passed until she began to speak about my uncle Jon. “I think that strand runs in our family,” she said referring to the “gay” gene. I agreed. Though my uncle is married to a woman now, he had come out to my grandmother years before. She told me how he had taken her for a drive and broke down crying. After she had asked him what was wrong, he told her he was gay. Her response was simply this, “Okay. But why are you crying?” My uncle then asked her if she still loved him. And Grandma was shocked because, “How could any mother stop loving a son?”
She said it was the same for me. That I was and will always be Lyndsey to her no matter what sexual preference I may have. “I knew before you even told me,” she confided. I asked her how. She said that when I made a trip to visit her and my mother in Florida a few years ago, I was wearing a red bandana.
“Once you put that on, I said to myself, ‘there goes Lynn!’” And then she raised her fist proudly into the air and bellowed “Good for you!”
At that moment, I was overwhelmed by her ability to give unconditional love so freely. And I understood that the reason she was old in age but still so young and so free at heart was because of her ability to love. How wonderful is it to have someone like that in my life?
We continued to talk about how hard it was for me to carry that secret around, and how hard it must be for every gay and lesbian out there. I told her how I was shaking with fear when I wrote her the letter in which I had come out to her and she patted me lovingly on the arm as if to say that I should have known better. Her response was as caring and as warm to me as it had been to her own son. She even offered to be there when I was ready to tell my parents. As we continued along the highway, I felt a new sense of pride. I know how truly blessed I was to have her in my life.
A little further into the trip, my grandmother switched cars and drove the rest of the way with my brother while his girlfriend rode with me. Later on in the weekend, he would tell me that when they were driving, Grandma kept pointing to a maroon Ford Taurus in front of them and saying, “Boy that car has been with us the whole trip!”
My brother laughed and said, “Gram, that’s cause it’s Lyndsey.”
“Oh yeah,” she said. "I keep forgetting.”
