Dancing with sprits

The moment I thought maybe I’d try to   dance for you to see, you were gone. Without a vision; one is nothing but spineless ghost. You didn't belong to the confines of a limited body. No, not when your spirit was so huge, so magnificent.

You were one of those that refuses to acknowledge the invisible rubble at your feet. you visualize only freedom, so you flew even in sleep, you flew until flying was the reality for you.

Going home

After my sister left for Jamaica

Janet Lilethia Harvey

I wept in the night of the desolate weep

I sought afar her through the convoy of airport limos

and carry my heart in my fist.

Tonight we will not share a meal

 So I levitate above spicy chicken feet &

Pig tail slather in coconut milk and red beans

the white long dumpling sits in the pot reminds me of bones.

Fried dumplings covered in plastic container

Crispy cod fish on onions and carrot,

I did not choose those in some gluttonous rage.

 I pull from the fridge the last thawed sweet potato pie (pudding)

  shed a tear on it before I zap it in the microwave

 and call it dessert- tasting the nutmeg through my tears.

After twenty plus years this house seem

-much bigger, I get lost going in circles

    its colder with out my sister here.

 now the winter feels much closer than it really is.

I am no longer whole in body or mind;

weakness of spirit envelopes me-- I miss home.

Days like this I measure my unshakeable confidence

and the will to keep on keeping on, via wilted desires

and the burred vision of the American dream.

Copyright October 8, 2012

DARE OR DIE

The reason I shudder may be because she is  hanging on so desperately to a friendships that expired. we travel not in the same direction anymore.

I  changed course for better -something she only read about many years prior to her  husband leaving .That is what she is accustom to, people leaving her life.

So did I - I tore  away from the friendship leaving  a raw open wound and she will not heal  I cannot help her, I refuse the  toxin this friendship leaks I said, "no thank you"

I've mastered the art of ignoring people. How I view life is such; it's like a play people we meet on the  journey of our lives are actors playing  a role in- lesson, our lesson .
We must learn to be ready for the teacher -the lesson or it's no ones fault. They will eventually exit our lives to play other roles in someone else's play, leaving  room for a new actor on our stage .We must restrict all attachment such is mental poison. Our bodies suffer, our soul  suffers illness and death becomes us when something dies bury just.

I DID IT MY WAY

Please allow me on this day to share my gratitude to the world that host me this long.

Through  hard handed care and  tough love- I savor the gentle moments tearfully- there were many yesterdays I guess you too would have given them back. Regret, they were  too few to mention.

I faced it all and stand tall, I took the blows  did it my way, yes I had my share of loosing I made a mess who doesn’t

 BUT IT WAS MY WAY!!!

Happy birthday Janet Lilethia Harvey on this day March 28 the year of our Lord

Friday, the sun is hiding from me today. I've packed the bags and am ready to go-not much comfort in my leaving when i must be selfless to accomplish in the task. Trust is the word and change must come. goodbye for now

The Answer Sits in The Center that Knows

I feel like we go around in circle hoping to meet in the middle, always seem to be on the edge wanting to meet in the middle. One day we will connect in the middle there we’ll create the magic concocted in our minds-what is it that prevents us from this connection

I cannot say. But priorities floats above the things we put of and put off, years only slips through the tiny opening we call tomorrow’s- task to be done.

Memories of Ballentrea

When life spins out of control we should try to hold still-  and pray the quake stops. There are always more tremors before the dust settles, before we can relax that roof won’t come down, the walls won’t cave in.

This too will pass, this too will pass.Only if the inside didn't feel so broken, i could stop and smell the lilies.

HEART B  STILL

Janet L. Harvey


Love is: sun kissed morning

post script of dawn's diamond tears

Swallowed by day's insomnia

Be still and hear the language of the rose

Singing its dirge-like sadness

How does a flower of such beauty and grace bear a thorn

of murderous, near-Viking fury.

Dormant in her dry intimate pain

Chilled wind shudder as cold air quails her

Many seeds in her bosom

Much beauty still, tinged with fading aroma

Much beauty yet….. As beauty was.

Much beauty yet….. As beauty was.

Heart be still…. Remember. Fragrant aloes

The dream is yet to be again.

As dreamer lives On light Water Self-love.

Garden of life coded in whirling breath

So tend to your silence

So much better to have loved and lost-than never loved at all(who said That )

WHAT IS LOVE

Janet L. Harvey

Love is dirty like a back yard grass cutter

Carrying a front and back face

It manicures and pedicures the angles

Of the mind.

Love let you scream out your mothers maiden name

When the  clouds  shave in prep of a storm.

Love lets you speak in mindless curdles

And baby talk your way to the floor. shackled in

Shame less wanting- dangles on  floral curtains

By the window as they move in stew of hunger

Not considering the crystal vase & red roses watch from the dresser

Longing sprout upwards, fist of velvet fire

Flung  sheets unscrewed from mattress-

And the night breeze walking over naked flesh

Is never to be blamed when-

Love sticks its cook in your face pass midnight

And till morning the arrow still warm ; its head

Pointing behind your ears- years after

Love had a cigarette-

Roll over and snores-

While you search the ceiling for an orgasm

Just being Happy

Happiness is getting up when ever you feel like it, taking a bath when you want to, and eating what you want to, whenever you feel like it. Sitting around your own table in your own kitchen sitting in your own back yard listening to birds sing. In your special chair watching the sun decent into the hill sides.

tonight

tonight is quiet, except for the humming of the a/c,not much is going on here. tomorrow i hope there will be many voices a transport to peace and good decisions.

i feel as if my decisions flow like water, it comes with such force then fades under the bridge. Leaving my thoughts twirling back and forth. I may be afraid to change my tomorrow,

Setting Me Free

A candle in the window on a cold dark night. I cradle no regrets now that the inevitable end is here. I thought about this before, way before this unraveling happens, long before all my love mellowed to hate. The fantasy though; was much different, i was rich and did not need you and walking away gave me a feeling of empowerment.
I wait for the curtains to descend and me exiting this stage- leaving a world i despise more and more every day. I think by now they all could tell,

I really don't give a damn anymore. I am sure if their brains weren't up their asses they could read my silent F-U the times when i am silent, that is what i am really saying.

The day I lay my burden down

I am Jamaican born and raised but nowadays,I am lost between two shores,Toronto is fine but it ain't home, Montego Bay is home,But it ain't mine no more......i am i said,to no one there....Neil Diamond sings the saddest song ever.

Heart Flame With Desire

The day I lay this burden down

my weightless dream; you will consume my thoughts

I will basket your expensive pride on my head

and cruise the blue dome to wards you.

The desire to heal the pain within

consumption not easily quenched.

O! this wave of longing as slow death to me.

The speckle west Indian Julies mangoes,

tangerine ripe on a limb

bees nestled in  flowers of Spanish needles

O! God this yearning feels like the perpetual sin.

I promise the day I lay this burden down

this rebel heart will slay the beast-

touch the warm tropical sunset again

watch the scarlet sun over the golden horizon.

I shed my dead wishes to a new resurrected soul.

squeeze me tightly

I Shed a Tear

The skies magnetize as I depart thee…

land of my birth, soil of my umbilical,

whiffing clumps of your last warmth,

and your smell for the journey.

The lights from hotel windows twinkle in the dark

this night the only night the street to the airport

was clear, not a soul in sight

stray cats, hungry dogs all gone.

Happy and sad mix into pungent potion

now the final moment approaches

the crossroad of my dismal fate is here.

Amidst the darkened skies, my country —

you gently fade away, from my grasp

or was it me who did slip away ?

Hanging to the path of new horizons,

clinging to dusk, drinking sultry hope

melancholy takes its toll,

the gate is open, for sweet comfort,

I could return to the silence of the night

if the frozen lakes refuses me into its icicle lips

and cold hands.

Its naked forests with misty breath.

I daze in my conspiracy of one

this deadly secret is mine to the end.

A slippery evasion of truth I must.

You cannot know I splinter into many personalities

here in this cocoon of mine.

From; tears of an immigrant (jlharveycopyright2010 )

wish to touch your cheek before sleep envelopes me

 This poem is from my up coming book of love, look forward to the publication of this collection and i promise to become a cave woman and write the novels in my belly ,waiting to be born.

HERE WHERE I LIVE

Janet L. Harvey

I’ve   made few mistakes in my forty- plus years

And you are the biggest of them. The only one laced bitter sweet.

A fail attempt at love-

How long will I have to live to drip-free these memories

Out of my eyes. Solid and obstructive .

It confines  me  to wanting your voice, your kiss

Your embrace. Your rejection.

It’s the edge of morning your stiff extension

Thrust its way into this fragile shell

Hitting me where I live.

Among the bare naked maple of the forest

And sweet sharp rain tangles my flesh.

On this sad- star -gazed night.

I measure my sorrow on the lengthened moon rays

Against the sorrow of those with dried corn and no fire.

A weeping mother. The news of war.

Even the tsunami’s anger  its destructive rage.

Yet…

 hurt to life’s limit and pass speed limit . Thresh hole

Of terrible intent. Daring for one more spring

And the thaw of a  grave escapee. Here.

Where I live.  In this disintegrating snow ball mansion.

copyright 2010jharvey

Angels don't Cry, tribute to patients i cared for

Add caption

Tears of an immigrant the Book

my painting "Dare to Dream"

Motherland O! Sweet Jamaica how i missed you

Dear Motherland

Janet Lilethia Harvey

If I should tell you of my sadness

you’ll weep fo’ me. I know you will.

If I paint a picture of the Christmases

I spent in my self-inflicted exile.

So bewildered that I’ve savor my grief as side dish

I have never tasted a meal.

When the phone call from home frightens me

-at 3am, I fist the air and shatter the sky

enraged at my fractured existence.

I come face to face with my own powerlessness.

The shattered sky rained so hard, the rivers took the last strand

of hope.

It flew over the edge of the waterfalls and was gone.

Will be a very long time before it appear

as dust in the atmosphere,

long after, I will it into existence.

I was not equipped to jar and hide this murderous

disappointment and failures, the slip and falls,

on the slick of icy moments, we immigrants tread.

The itemized brokenness

or the lethal resurface of the love’s abandon.

Life serves me with no script,

dear homeland if my confession scars your ears

or your heart terrorized by my unzipped wound

wait for no apologies- it will not come.

Copyright2010jharvey