Monday, December 21, 2009

A Tale of Scales and Fish...

You – yeah – you …
You Libra man
You are the scales on
Me the fish…
And I don’t mean weight
I mean that you –
You sweet, affable
And unbalanced, loving Libra
Are the scales that
I, the loving, insecure,
All giving Piscean woman
Am always trying to shake off
Scrape free from, peel away
But I can’t
And it’s not that I really want too …
Because when you decide
To wrap yourself around me
When you take it to heart that
I am the one that you
Want to engulf in your strength
To shower in your love
To bathe in your care
When the realization hits
That I am the one …
Then am I well and truly treasured
Then am I unbelievable precious
Then do I glow in your amorous
Embrace, in your Cloak of Eros

And honey …
Those scales become diamonds …
Iridescent light
Fractured yet whole as
I proudly don this
Suit of your grace
This dress made of you
Your essence, your unique you-ness…
Take off these scales?
Heaven forbid that I
Would lose even one
I love that you
Are stuck to me like glue.
You are my scales
My armor, my protector
My one my heart
My all
And this fish wants nothing less
Than the all that you have to give
To me and me alone!

Monday, November 30, 2009

Tis The Season ...

The Silly Season has begun in earnest.

I refer here to the season prior to Christmas – another time when mankind seems to lose sight of the reason that we revere this time of year.

The very word ‘Christmas’ tell s us exactly what it is all about. Christmas or Christ-Mass literally means the Mass of Christ or the celebration of Christ. The scientific meaning of the word is ‘The Incarnation of God’.

According to an article by Leon James called ‘THE SCIENTIFIC MEANING OF CHRISTMAS’ ( ) - the prior conscious awareness of God was replaced by Blind Faith, but a blind faith is not the same as a rational faith based on conscious understanding of God; a blind faith enters just the Natural layer of the mind. The Spiritual layer requires that our faith be rational.

It is apparent that the only way that God saw to remedy the situation was by entering history and science. He made himself to be born as a Divine Human Child.

There is a lot more to this article and I would advise that you read it at your own convenience. I have however mentioned it in order to lend credence to the idea that Jesus the Christ is to be worshipped and adored always and forever, and specifically during this season of Advent and Christmas that – no matter how inaccurate the dates may be – commemorates His birth.

Advent is our preparation time. This is the time when we are to look within and see the areas that need to be repaired or addressed in our relationship with the Most High.

Yes, the preparation of our surroundings is important as well, but ‘putting away’ the internal is a major prerequisite to Christmas.

Unfortunately our main concerns are usually the sales, the house, the clothes, the food and the gifts.

Seriously though … what gift will you give to the Christ Child? While you’re cleaning up, are you going to clean up your act? Are you going to heed His call to return to Him?

I began this thought process by referring to this time as ‘the Silly Season’, and that is because it is the time of the year when most of us take leave of our senses and forget ourselves. We overdo everything – spending, eating, drinking, partying, etc, etc, etc.

We are offered yet again the opportunity to hit our ‘reset’ buttons – to re-prioritize our lives and refocus on what should be the most important things in our lives – our God, our Families, Friends and the Love that constantly surrounds us – even when we’re not aware.

My wish for us all is this Advent is that we learn that without God we are naught but dust – without Jesus there is no eternal life for us and without rational faith in the God who knew us before he formed us, we will continue to keep Him in abstract – which is nowhere.

We are being reminded that Jesus is the reason for the season – not Jimmy Aboud, Macys,, Pathmark or Hi Lo (depending on your geography!)

Advent blessings!

Friday, November 13, 2009


It should have been a simple process … it was supposed to be in-and-out in about a half an hour. It was not to be.

Anyone who lives here, has visited here or has even had a layover in our airport has come into contact with the bureaucratic labyrinth that is the Immigration process in Trinidad and Tobago; and none of the aforementioned segments of our society have ever really fully made it out of the maze.

Well … I found myself fully ensconced in the Matrix on Wednesday. I entered the matrix that morning at approximately 9AM when I presented myself to the offices of a REPUTABLE Commissioner of Affidavits, only to find a long line of fellow hopefuls and doors that were firmly shut … AT 9AM in a notoriously 8 to 4 country … STRIKE ONE.

I took myself off to the Hall of Justice to visit with my sister-friend, who is a Clerk to Judges, where I was informed that she was not in the building, only to call her and have her appear from INSIDE the very building that she was supposedly out of … this is a building that is virtually crawling with every sort of security device, cameras a, police and security personnel. RIIIIIIIIIIIGHT! STRIKE TWO.

I went back to the offices of the reputable commissioner of affidavits to find that she was indeed on duty with an office full of people frothing at the mouth to have their wrongs righted by the goodly officer of the Public Domain. I waited, got my form signed and stamped, paid my fees and took myself off to the Immigration Department – a division of the Ministry of National Security.

I opened the doors to two serpentining, intertwining lines – one to the Receptionist … one to the Collections Counter. I had to play a game of FIND MY END to know where I should stand. While shuffling off to my own private ‘Buffalo”, I witnessed four women bedecked in key cards swinging from their necks reading the words ‘MINISTRY OF CULTURE’, sauntering in. One of them stood off to the left and the other three proceeded to the counter to be attended to. Did I mention that they went directly to the SAME counter that approximately TWENTY of us were standing IN A LINE to get to for the same service? No? Well they did. This incensed a few of my fellow shufflers and they proceeded t raise a bit of a stink, one of them even going to far as to take himself to the front of the line. That’s when the policeman on duty decided that he felt the need to act.

Here’s the hilarity … these three women walked STRAIGHT UP TO THE COUNTER and officer chupidy stood by and WATCHED, but one man moved from the ACTUAL LINE and he is angry??? WHAT THE FUCK???! STRIKE THREE.

Another officer came over and spoke to the gentleman and informed him that that sort of thing happens often when OTHER GOVERNMENTAL OFFICERS come in to the office. Note to self: wear a Governmental key card around neck the NEXT time I need to be treated ‘SPECIALLY’ at a governmental office .

Having finally gained the front of the ACTUAL line, I presented my documents and was about to explain about my lost passport and form regarding same when I was told that all they needed were the ID Cards involved. I submitted same, was told that the passports were ready and that I needed to have a seat and wait for my name to be called. I complied.

I sat there observing the colourfully dressed members of staff, wondering how come they weren’t wearing the prescribed blue and grey uniform of the Division. I dismissed the thought as I continued my penance – yes my penance because it was almost three hours before I was called to the Issuance Counter. I produced the documents required only to be told THEN that I was unable to collect my passport because my LOST PASSPORT FORM was printed on the WRONG SIZED PAPER and not two sided as recommended. I am standing at the counter with a form, signed by the Police and a Commissioner of Affidavits (A signature and stamp that I had to pay for as previously stated!) and you’re going to tell me that it’s the wrong sized paper when your fuckin’ PDF files feed at lettersized???! And how exactly is this my fault???!

I am then sent to the receptionist who then proceeds to tell me that I “Cyah get a form until yuh have ah appointment.” I then inhale as DEEPLY as possible so as not to blow this little fuckwits brains out and inform the little brightly dressed OJTer that I was in fact COLLECTING MY ALREADY PROCESSED PASSPORT … that I already had my appointment and was sent to her to see if the form would be accepted. She then informs “Well I have tuh talk to my Supervisor!” I then went back to the other brightly dressed person who sent me to her in the first place to ask why I can’t get the passport on submission of the form, only to be told that they have to INVESTIGATE whether my passport is REALLY lost – as if I would go through this insipid shit all over again – because no one is to have two valid passports. I tell miss thing that my passport was expired and that all she has to do is check the form in front of her. eyes are rolled at me … “Ma’am … be that as it may we HAVE to investigate!”

Question – If I lost my passport and couldn’t find it, having traced and retraced my steps, how de arse are they going to investigate the whereabouts of my passport? Is the plan to stand on every corner in Port of Spain and shout ‘HERE PASSPORT, PASSPORT, PASSPORT!” in the hopes that it fuckin answers???
When the illusive Supervisor finally turns up forty five minutes later the woman – another TEMP – informs me that I ‘Should have KNOWN that I needed to ADJUST the PDF FEED so that it would print on Legal paper” and then proceeds to ask me in her own ‘warm’ way “YOU TINK YOU IS DE ONLY PERSON WHOEVER PRINT DIS FORM ONLINE?” I open my mouth to tell her just what I think of her fuckwitted and nasty-ass attitude but she cuts me off with “:ANYWAY WE EH ARGUIN ABOUT DE FORM. IT WRONG AN’ IS NOT OUR FAULT – START OVER!” and then she shoves a printed form at me … looks over my head and shouts “NEXT!”

Now I ask you --- what would you have done then? How would you have felt, having been so unceremoniously dismissed by a PUBLIC SERVANT WHOSE SALARY AND BENEFITS ARE PAID BY YOUR BLOOD, SWEAT, TEARS AND TAXES? In fact how would you react having been assaulted by an entire fuckin system???!

Honestly, I felt raped, taken advantage of and thrown on a heap for speedy disposal.

I know that temps and OJTers are a part of life in the government service – heck, I’ve been a temp in the service – and kudos to the powers that be for trying to train out young’uns for the world of work; but that’s just it – THESE PEOPLE ARE NOT TRAINED!

After what I and the other pilgrims went through on Wednesday – I suggest that the Ministry of National Security Passport office is NOT the place for priggish, ill-mannered temps and pregnant, impatient, short-tempered OJTers – people are already in a state of shock and annoyance when they open those doors and enter the Labyrinth of Bedlam … the Matrix of Mayhem. It would so ease the pain and frustration to be served by a PROFESSIONAL member of staff who has a clue, some manners, and proper CSR training, but I know that somewhere in the dark and cobwebbed filled corridors of the Ministerial Human Resources Department, some grey-headed clerk just had a fuckin heart attack because they can’t remember the last time they heard CSR Training and Staff in the same sentence! That shit just ain’t done!

So as a result, we are doomed to remain like Charlie One Note … dancing in our sleep and dreaming of the day when someone cracks the code and we can finally escape THE MATRIX OF BUREAUCRATIC DOOM with the simple words “Good Morning, How can I be of service to you today?”

NB: For those of you who don’t know, an OJTer is an On The Job Training participant.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Changing Our Internal Soundtrack ...

I recently spoke to a dear one of mine who is presently going through some things. It’s been rough for them, and I know that there are nights that remain sleepless, as well as days of black clouds, hesitance and doubt.

They have attempted to remain optimistic in the face of harrowing body blows. They smile and joke, and it’s a pattern that I have come to recognize from my own experiences with ‘days of thunder’ as I choose to call them.

Our internal soundtracks are the ‘inner voices’ that guide us, be they celestial, emotional, spiritual, ancestral or voices from our past. These are the voices that are with us at our highest and lowest moments.

At our pinnacles, they constantly pat us on the back … remind us of how wonderful we are and can even press on to cause us to become quite selfish, and mindless of the people or circumstances that have gotten us to this particular peak.

In our pits of despair, these same voices can be the ones that jeer and sneer at us, while reminding us of every single failure in our lives … from kindergarten to that time at the office when we fell flat on our faces in the middle of a presentation.

They are the soundtracks of our lives, and I don’t know about you, but I would rather have a nice balanced play list that shows me where I’ve gone wrong and cheers me on while I attempt to repair the problem.

The worst thing is when WE are the voice that we hear … the voice of our own insecurity…

I told my dear one this morning that they needed to remain thankful and that they needed to find something at the end of each day to be thankful and grateful for – be it a parking space or a butterfly that came their way. The response was “I am thankful and I start my prayers off with thanksgiving but … it’s hard…”

The word BUT is a bitch of a word and here’s why … are you aware that EVERYTIME you say BUT you have effectively negated everything that went before it?


I love you with all my heart … I can’t stay with you … BUT in the middle. You’ve just told someone that you don’t love them and goodbye.

The ‘supposed’ love that you feel for that person is just a plaster to try to make them feel better as you walk away.

Let’s look at my dear one’s statement … “I am thankful and I start my prayers off with thanksgiving but it’s hard some days…”

I am thankful and I start by prayers off with thanks giving … it’s hard some days … BUT in the middle. Stay with me class … they’ve just said he isn’t thankful and life is hard.

Now before you pick up your soap box and turn it over in an attempt to tell me what a cold hearted bitch I am, lemme just explain what I mean.

Yes I know that there is absolutely NOBODY on this earth who wakes up everyday all peachy keen and in the pink of great humor. Yes I know that we all have our battles to fight. I also know that WE are the ones who allow others to hold us back … we are the ones who allow the seeds of doubt and sometimes ultimate failure to permeate our souls on our good and bad days. The word BUT is a word that inspires doubt … e.g. YES I KNOW HE CAN DO IT BUT LEMME JUST HELP HIM. Again … Yes I know he can do it … Lemme just help him … BUT in the middle. This works out to be ‘I don’t trust him to be able to do this so I’ma stick my foot in it.’

When we start adding BUT to our vocabulary when it concerns ourselves, we are giving life to self-doubt, insecurity, and mistrust of self. How could that be a good thing? If we don’t love, trust, respect and believe in ourselves … who’s gonna do it for us?

So you’ve been told all your life that ‘little black boys and girls will NEVER amount to anything in this world” and you have a setback … do you wallow in the mud and slime and doubt yourself while giving life to what OTHERS have said to you? NO! You change your internal soundtrack and you keep telling yourself “I am going to make it DESPITE what has been said to me and about me!”

You realize that it’s not going to work and you end a relationship or the relationship is ended by your partner. You’ve been told since the age of reason that “people in your family NEVER stay together anyway so why bother … your relationship skills are jinxed.” Are you going to let someone else speak into your life and tell you that you’re never going to find relationship happiness? NO! you change your soundtrack and tell yourself that “I will find with God’s help the one who is made for me. He/She is coming and soon!”

I guess what I’m trying to say is that positivity is so much more effective than her evil twin negativity. Someone pointed out to me the other day that when life gives you lemons you ask for sugar, because the water is free. That sounds like wonderful advice to me.

No I’m not sending you out there to be the voice of constant cheerleading … that would just be annoying. What I am saying dear ones is that life is hard, days can be tough, BUT with the right attitude … we will all get to where we are destined to be!

Monday, November 2, 2009

Guess Who's on Amazon???!

That's right luvvies! AT LAST by Donna Mae Greaves is now available for purchase on

Here's the link:

AT LAST by Donna Mae Greaves

And PLEASE feel free to pass this on to EVERYBODY you know who loves a good love story!

Here's a reminder of the review received.

Happy reading!!!

Friday, October 30, 2009

My Journey There and Back...

I’ve been there
Down in that murky
Grimy pit called Despair.
I’ve seen all there is
To see of that
Particular brew of
Primordial ooze
And I have struggled
To pull myself out of it.
It wasn’t easy
The miserable lethargy
The cloying nearness of sorrow
Wraps itself around
Your psyche like a warm
Inviting snuggly blanket
It held fast to every pore
It clung to the damp tendrils of my hair …
It saturated my tears
The pungent aroma of misery and sorrow
Wafts through every room
In this special corner of Hell
The god-awful yet inviting stench
That pulled me further and further in
Until I salivated for want of taste
And I ate and ate and ate
Licking dry each saucepan and skillet
Used to prepare my own six-course meal
And there I sat
Repulsed yet fascinated
That I had become
My own Sin Eater …
Magnetized by the ‘pretty’ fare
Laid out around the darkness
Of my soul
Needing to take the pain away, yet knowing better
But unable to stop feasting
Yet again at this personal banquet of
Misery, of sorrow of subjugation
And desperation.
I’ve been there
In that repellent kitchen
Where the chefs are
Mirror images of self
Where guests believe themselves
To be in the shadow realm
Yet was I sickeningly comfortable
The kind of comfort that
Is uncomfortable in its ability to
Strangely soothe
The bell tolled then
And I painfully and slowly rose
To my feet – forcing myself away
From the table
Realizing only then that
I was sated but unable to stop myself
Though stop I needed to
And so … I did
But, yes, I’ve been there
I’ve cooked in hell’s kitchen
And I know the darkness of that pit
I know the stench
Of self imposed misery and melancholy
And this is not a comprehension of which
I am proud
I have abashedly licked the pots clean
While I have navigated the quagmire
Of my feelings, and beliefs…
Look at my skin, look at my soul and
See my battle scars …
I’ve been there
But now … I’ve returned
And I am stronger for the journey…

Monday, October 26, 2009

Wishing ...

Sitting still offers up the opportunity to think of you
Being silent gives me time to think about the words that have passed between us.
Dreaming gives me flashbacks of moments, of looks, of smiles … and previews of things hoped for and to come.
You are my heart, my love … you are my love, my heart…
So few are our moments together. Yes, there is time between us,
But moments – moments when I see the true essence of you – these moments when you bring the real me to the surface … moments when the lightest touch of your hand can feel like being hit by lightening ~ those moments are yet rare between us, My Love.
I dare not move, for fear of losing this sweet, short space in our time. Would that I could capture it forever and seal it in my heart for my love and I to share it again anon…
Wishing makes it all seem possible. Hoping makes it probably.
Being next to you makes it real.
My side is cold … you are not here …
Come back ~
I miss you, My Heart.

Friday, October 23, 2009

The Star That Went Nova ...

On Tuesday morning I said goodbye to an era. I am also forced to admit now that I also said goodbye to a mentor.

Astra Da Costa wasn’t only a mentor for me; if many of the young women who worked under her tutelage are honest, they would also admit that she left many a mark on their lives. Yes, some of the marks were negative, but there were positive ones too.

I’ve always said that AMPLE was a hell of a training ground for me. I think I learnt most of what I know in that formerly beautiful white building at the corner of Grey Street and Tragarete Road (I never understood the need to paint that majestic white building Vomit Pink!)

I sat in the church on Tuesday and allowed my mind to travel back in time. I went back to meetings and conversations that I had inadvertently deemed unnecessary, and as I replayed some of these instances, I realized that in her rather indirect but direct way, (trust me, that makes sense … this is after all the woman who coined ‘hurry slowly’) Astra had left the seeds of social responsibility and the need to be a part of something bigger than self with me.

I guess – having destroyed many a draft since I began writing this – all I really want to say is Thank You Astra for sharing some of your knowledge with us, for molding us into the strong, opinionated, independent, caring, careful yet reckless women that we are today. I, for sure, have learnt to laugh at myself, to appreciate every stately curve that I own … not to mention that I have now perfected the art of power dressing!

We’ve learnt to appreciate the love of family and good friends. We have also learnt to appreciate every second of time gifted to us and allow us to joke that this is because we NEVER had any time while we labored at AMP’s … but we appreciate it nonetheless.

Rest well ADC, because you’ve earned it, and please, whatever you do, DO NOT attempt to tell God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit or St Peter how to do their jobs or how to make Heaven more efficient --- It’s JUST NOT DONE! May I suggest some time in the choir loft??? You always did say that you missed singing.

Go with God, Auntie Astra!

Monday, October 19, 2009


I need a phone … not just any phone … I want a phone exactly like the one that I have. Why? Because I like my phone. What I don’t like however is the fact that my phone is falling apart as we speak.

The little non-entity that sold me my phone must really not have liked me, but that’s okay … I know why he didn’t and probably still doesn’t like me. I will however continue to stand by the statement that I made to said individual.

All I need is a Motorola Z-6 that works the way it should … that will not fall apart on me at the slightest nudge or smallest fall … I want a Z6 that is reliable, won’t drop calls, won’t leave me without a bar of service at the most inopportune times … is that too much to ask?

I need a phone – JUST like my phone but different. Different in a way that makes sense to me … different in performance, but the same in looks … ya feel me?

I want my phone to be there for me and only me … password protected or not … my phone and I must have a one-to-one kind of relationship… it must answer when I call and be there for me and me alone…

Relationship … hmmm …

Interesting choice of word … I mean I am talking about a phone after all … right???

Many of us relate to our electronic gadgets the way we relate to the people in our lives. We can’t function without them and have forgotten what life was like before them. Could it be that we just want to belong so badly that we lose our common sense as soon as the next new thing appears on the horizon?

Not me! I just want my own phone but different. That makes perfect sense doesn’t it???

It’s like wanting your old boyfriend back, exactly as he was but different. You want his big strong arms, but you don’t want his temper. You want his sexual prowess, but you can do without the jealousy. You adore his thick curly hair, but can live away from his foul mouth. You know … EXACTLY alike but different…

Me? I just want a brand spanking new Motorola Z-6, in a new colour, but JUST LIKE my current phone – just without the moodiness, the dropped calls, the falling apart … stuff like that…

It’s not like I’m askin’ for the world or somethin’ …


Thursday, October 1, 2009

Daydreaming & Thinking of You...

I dream of the day
When I wake up in your arms
I’m thinking of the possibilities
That await us
I’m trippin’ when I think
About the love I have for you
And the love in your heart for me
I’m dreaming of our future
As we try to navigate our present
While learning lessons from the past
I dream of the love and life
Waiting for us to get to the point
Of agreeing that I’m you’re and you’re mine
I’m thinking of the times before
When we lived and loved
In times gone by – uninhibited by
Thoughts of loss and fear
Honest with each other
Fearless and fierce in our
Devotion to each other
I dream of living our lives
The way we did in leaves of old
I dream of your arms around me
And your voice whispering
In my ear that you are mine
And will be with me until
I dream of we and meditate
On what is ahead for us
My dreams and my thoughts
Collide with my reality
As I see you approach me
Smiling at me that smile
That holds a promise
Of what is to come
Of what will be
Of what is being built
So I dream ~ I dream for you and me
I dream for we
And wait for the day
When we as we
Begin to build our dreams

Monday, September 28, 2009


The night may not have been the best time you ever had. The previous day may have been the kind that makes you want to go back to bed and start over again … but in all fairness to the new day – there’s always tomorrow.

We are given the chance, with each new daybreak, to reinvent ourselves, to begin again with a clean slate. It is actually our own psyches that cause us to hold tight to the pains, hurts and disappointments of the previous day.

We supposedly keep that tight grasp as a means of ‘reflection’. It still astounds me that we never seem to reflect on the positives … on the gifts of light and love that have come our way during the 24-hour pass … only on the negatives.

We spend our nights – most of us – sifting through the sands of doubt and shame, hurt and anger, insecurity and fear, instead of saying to self and Maker that we vow to make it better tomorrow and paying tribute to the ones who have affected us in a good way.

We hoard every perceived injustice and as such we hand over our personal power to people who are in now way deserving of that privilege.

The actions of one vengeful, manipulative, sneaky and just plain malevolent human should not cause the tailspin that I have personally allowed to happen, but I did. It is my fault that I have allowed my own insecurities to cloud my joy and common sense … but allow it I did.

I now take the time to assure myself and others that there’s always tomorrow … and tomorrow and tomorrow.

Our opportunities for a clean slate are endless, yet we continue to swim in the current quagmire of choice…

The universe constantly sends us clues and reassurances, but in our chase of the illusive of yesterday we miss them.

Allow yourself the privilege of looking up and outward to tomorrow instead of holding on to and looking down at yesterday. Certainly, live in today, and live your best today. Crap happens, disappointments may very well occur, but remember that when everywhere else there are walls, magnets and nails holding you in this place of sadness and uncertainty, the sun will rise again …

Because there’s always tomorrow!


Friday, September 25, 2009

Ode to a Plague (a.k.a. Seriously? Really?)

What right do you have
Saying things like that to me …
Bringing every buried insecurity
Back to the surface
Like black crude on salty sea?
Who the hell gave you permission
To unleash my salted tide of tears
You left this situation
You gave up claim
To this wonderful property
And so now it is that
Someone else sees the value
That is naturally inherent
In this yet properly harvested ground
You have decided to claim jump?
I – don’t – think – so
You see…
Due to circumstances beyond my control
I have taken up residence
On this chunk of fertile land
And I do not intend to leave it …
Nor do I share well
The opportunity to develop
What was left barren
Was yours
In the palm of your hand
And walk away you did
What you don’t realize
Is that this land was willed to me
Lifetimes ago
And you … you with your supposed hopes and dreams
And in actuality … you with your lies
Are nothing but a hiccup
In the game of Destiny
You are hereby dismissed
You are now officially evicted
This land, my darling, is my land
From sea to fuckin shining sea
For as far as the ‘I’ can see
And then back again
Yes, you planted a seed
And it bore a beautiful fruit
For that I am thankful
Yes you would always be connected to this land
Through that precious bud
But never assume that
Visiting that plant somehow
Erases the memory of ill use
And grants you your former leasing agreement
Because it doesn’t.
You are not now or will you ever be
Tenant at will
You will however
Fade back to the dust and darkness
From which you sprang
You who attempts to declare yourself as owner
You of the lost rights
And plans dashed
On the banks of your own insipidness
You who never understood
The gift that ownership of this fine land
Really ever meant
You who missed the joy of cultivation
Through your need to manipulate and scar
You who makes me thankful
For I have now come to the place
Where I can happily, honestly and truly
Reclaim that which is now and has always been
And as such …
You are hereby asked to take your spite,
Your meanness, along with
The temporary key to the Pandora box
That is my insecurity
And graciously remove yourself
From my homestead.
Your presence is no longer
Desired or required.
Be gone!

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Another Story done on my Release Party...

This is a copy of the article as it appears today in the Trinidad Guardian. It can also be seen online at on page 5, Section C.

At Last— Greaves launches novel
Published: 23 Sep 2009

Novelist Donna Mae Greaves talks
about her inspiration for writing her
first book At Last during the launch
at the AV Room, Nalis in
Port-of-Spain on Saturday.

The title of Donna Mae Greaves’ new novel—At Last—couldn’t be more apt. With the publication of the book, her first, she has realised a cherished dream and tasted the fruit of years of labour.

The book was launched on September 12 at the Audiovisual room of Nalis on Abercromby Street in Port-of-Spain. Friends and well-wishers gathered to witness the event and offered heartfelt testimonies to Greaves’ perseverance in the accomplishment of her goal. At Last is a Caribbean romance novel. The book was published by Soul Write publishing house in Tennessee, whose founder, Marquette Carney, was on hand to celebrate the occasion.

Greaves delivered two readings from the new work, selecting excepts from the beginning and end. The story was at once engaging, eliciting “oohs” and “ahs” from the audience. After the readings, the floor was opened to questions but, instead, those who took the microphone used the opportunity to congratulate the author. Many, such as opera singer Anne Fridal and actress Evelyn Caesar-Munroe, were close friends who had shared the journey to the book’s creation, over nearly five years.

They told of being asked to read new drafts and of lending shoulders and support while the book was being written. It was obvious that they shared in Greaves’ joy and felt a real sense of pride that the novel had been published. After the readings, Greaves signed copies of the book and guests partook of savoury and sweet treats, some of which were baked by Greaves herself.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009


They are the garters to my pantyhose … the suspenders to my now too large trousers … the straps to my wonder bra … my bricks and crazy glue!

I take this time to say THANK YOU to the men and women who have held my hand through the days, nights, years of fun, laughter, tears, confusion, disgust, desperation and ultimate joy that has been the writing and publishing creative process of having my first novel ‘AT LAST’ published ‘at last’ …

Thank you to the EX-Amples & Friends; the home circle; the mamas; the aunties; the guy friends; the big brothers; THE big brother; the online community and everyone else that I may have left out…

You will never know what your love, shoulders and support have meant to me over the years.

It was a humbling experience to sit in the AV Room at NALIS on Saturday past (September 12, 2009) and listen to people talk about me in terms that I would have considered foreign to me had they said these things to me before now.

This entire experience has taught me so very much. Being new to any realm is always tough, but being new to publication and ‘author-dom’ is a learning curve that is not to be believed.

The process of shopping one’s work around is eye-opening, particularly as a Caribbean woman. The level of disrespect that is shot your way is amazing. The need for everyone to say the same thing all the time ‘well, you are an unknown Caribbean entity, and we are not sure what your audience is going to be … May we suggest that you vanity publish?”

Too much! And now having been published, I am faced with the realization that my own people could give a damn. I contacted three local booksellers regarding stocking my novel on consignment and was told that “We don’t usually take work from unknown local authors on consignment, but good luck to you…” Can a sistah get a break up in here???

One of my support folk said to me last night “Just wait till Oprah calls you … then EVERYBODY gonna want your book. Then they can all just kiss your ass!” I laughed, and was strangely comforted by the statement, because it would take a miracle for the mighty Miss Winfrey to notice my work … but one never knows.

To bookselling community in Trinidad and Tobago I just want to thank you all for your life lessons.

To everybody else, AT LAST by Donna Mae Greaves can be purchased at:

Thank you darlings – I love you all and thank you in advance for your purchases at Soul Write…

Be blessed.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009



There are times in our lives when we all take risks, go to places where we would rather not, do things that are foolhardy at the time… but the good thing is that if we are MATURE about it, we pick it up and we move along.

At a time when I wanted to do nothing but lay on my bed and curl up into a fetal ball, I sucked it up and took myself off on the now – it would seem – infamous WEEKEND IN TOBAGO WITH FUZZY DUCKS. To those of you who missed the album … too bad. To those who didn’t … then you know what I’m talking about.

This was not the weekend that I had painstakingly planned along with my partner in crime, but it was the weekend that I got, but I bit the bullet and did what needed to be done to ensure that things went as close to planned as possible.

So we soaked in the sea and we played at the pool and we drank ourselves into oblivion on that first night as well as at prescribed intervals.

It would seem that Tobago sun, alcohol and merriment has an adverse effect on a little thing called common sense in some cases. This may seem like a pointless rant to many, but trust me … there’s a point in here somewhere … you just have to know me well enough to find it. My mother always told me to MAKE SURE WHEN YOU DO WHAT YOU DO THAT YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DO AND YOU DO IT ANYWAY. I consider that to be excellent advice, particularly since one of my father’s favorite things to say was that HINDSIGHT IS 20/20 VISION.

It is always easier to see what a fuckwit you have been or anybody has been for that matter in the cold hard-ass light of day without the aid of prose-hued glasses, long after the hangover has left the building with Rolph and Ralph. But here’s the thing … even in the presence of a good time I think that it is advisable that the messages sent to the brain are COMPLETE SENTENCES and not CATCH PHRASES.

This is not Oz … it is not Fantasy Island … this is the grown ass world where, according to the Cheers theme song, EVERYBODY KNOWS YOUR NAME…

Nuff fuckin said!!!

Friday, September 4, 2009


I spent the last 3-day weekend in Tobago with friends. It was a 4-day weekend for me; I took the Friday off. The decision was made to travel by boat so that we could take the cars. In the end, only one car made the trip but that was okay, as Friday’s travelling was split between the 10am boat and the afternoon’s 5 o’clock sailing.

Friday morning process, though a little too long was painless. The driver of the car took the tickets of the passengers and got us all checked in. We sat in the car and waited while she toed the line. She even stayed at the check in counter and waited for one of the party who was running late. When she did come back to the car we saw him coming in and sent him to the counter where they promptly sent him back to the car and was told to sit.

We waited to be allowed on to the boat and when we boarded, we followed all instructions to the seating area. As a result, apart from choppy waters, major sea sickness for some and the trip being a little longer than needed, it was a painless experience.

That was Port of Spain to Tobago.

Independence morning found us at the Port of Scarborough – the fist trip being deposited at approximately 3:15am. As expected, our return tickets specifically stated that all vehicles needed to be on the port three hours prior to sailing; walk on passengers needed to arrive two hours prior. With arrival times like 3:45 and 4:15am, we honestly believed that we were well within the prescribed times.

Those of us who were walk ons found ourselves to be the first in line, and we were prepared and excited to see the doors promptly at 6:30am.

Not so …

Having stood – yes I said STOOD – in one spot for over three hours, I was eventually forced by the pain in my back and feet to ask one of the port policemen what time the check in department planned to open its doors. “7am ma’am,” was his response. I’m sorry … 7AM???! If the boat leaves at 8:30am, why is the check in desk opening at 7am when we are all told to be there 2 hours before? Why is it that cars were only allowed on to the boat at 7:45am? Why is it that the check in desk only opened their doors at 7:15am?

The punch line came when a mother and an aunt went to the counter with their tickets and those of their charges and were told that they needed to bring the children in to the din – all of whom were under the age of 10 – never mind the sign that announced that parents could perform the check ins for their children. It was during this particular conversational exchange that i became acutely aware that the individual who opened the door was shouting at us like we were all students of the School for the Deaf. Then someone in the line softly mentioned that things were indeed different in Trinidad. Well!! Mr Megaphone Mouth then shouted all the louder that “Things aren’t different between Trinidad and Tobago, but there are international standards to be maintained and you cannot expect to come to paradise and not do what is right... you have to toe the line here in Tobago. I don’t know what you used to in Trinidad. Now keep a straight line and behave in an orderly manner!!!”

Excuse me??? What gives the Scarborough Port staff the right to speak to passengers like this? Again I am forced to hark back to my beef regarding Customer Service.

These people need to understand that the Ferry service is utilized on a daily bass by the LOCAL travelling public, not necessarily the foreigners. For the most part foreign visitors travel to Tobago by plane. Therefore, without ‘me’ there is no freakin ‘you’!!!

This entire incident takes me back to a statement I have heard one of my parents’ friends make – “ ‘Bagonians doh like Trinis”. When this was first said in my presence I laughed, because I had never come across what my mother refers to as warped racism. How in the hell could you be ‘totin’ feelins’’ re trinis when we are the same frickin country???

There has been many a joke told about the mothers of Tobagonian children and their reactions to their offspring marrying Trinis. It is said that the mother of a Tobagonian daughter is thrilled when she snags a Trini man, but it is not such a joyous thing when a ‘Gonian boy falls for a Trini girl. Double standard much???

I am yet to understand the disdain between our twin island state. There were people who were in the line screaming up, down and sideways that the port staff were acting as they did, due to the fact that it was mostly Trinis trying to get home … that they were showing off and ‘winin’ back on us. Hello??? WE ARE HOME!!! It’s one country!!! What do you need after all these blasted years to make it official – a bridge? Actually … that’s not a bad idea, and gone would be the doubt that we are indeed a TWIN ISLAND STATE.

There should be no reason in the world for me to feel more comfortable in Barbados than I do in Tobago, but that is the truth of the matter. When your own countrymen and women look at you with disdain when you speak, it can’t be a good thing. It is a feeling of wariness that permeates the soul.

Paradise? Paradise for the foreigner is what they mean … certainly not for the local. I mentioned on my way to the port that Tobago is not a little Barbados and people laughed.

I think that people need to take the time to bridge the ever widening gap between Trini and ‘Bago and to really mean it when they say TRINBAGONIANS.

As an aside, please know that I am NOT going to Tobago again by boat unless I am certain that I am a drive-on passenger, and yes ‘H’, I know that getting my license would go a long way to assuring same …

Message received ...

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Vulnerability ...

I’m at the point here
Where a paper cut can
Cause me to bleed to death
So exposed am I to the
Unforgiving elements that
Have been swirling
Around me in this endless night
A night heralded by day break
With the crack of thunder
And the mocking smile of lightening

The tears are free falling down
My lashes like the cascading
Fall of rain down the side of a hill
Tears of hurt, pain, anger
Annoyance, fed-up-ness, strain
Half of these tears are his
I know … the ones that he
Won’t shed, for he is supposedly
The stronger of us two

I on the other hand must be
Strong enough to shed
This watershed for two, for we
For times and schedules
Cast to the wind at the
Hand of one now banished
From his consciousness
But one who insists on
Being paid attention to
One willing to sabotage
Self in the hope of
Causing pain to he who
Is always resilient, present
And responsible

So here we stand –
Naked and open in
Our collective vulnerability
Faces swollen, eyes puffy and bloodshot
As we attempt to
Collage together the pieces of
Promises unfortunately broken
Of opportunities that are
Now scheduled to be missed
Staring in wonder
At the one far off in the
Distance … far, yes, but
Near enough for the
Rancid, mocking echo of laughter
To be heard – to ring annoyingly
In our ears and consciousness

Wondering and hoping for
New times, better circumstances
And fresher memories
Looking forward hopefully
To times when we are finally
Allowed to be vulnerable, yes –
But only to each other

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Hope Springs Eternal ...

Three little words that mean one thing when they are hanging out together, but taken apart, they are powerful too …

‘Hope Springs Eternal’: There is always room for improvement – don’t give up … keep at it; there’s always tomorrow.

Fantastic concept right? It’s the stuff that dreams are made of …

‘Hope’: The general feeling that some desire will be fulfilled; optimism; encouragement; expectations; wishes.

‘Spring(s)’: grows; prospers; shoots forth; bends; proceeds; results; produces; explodes.

‘Eternal’: Being without beginning or end; continuing without interruption; perpetual; forever true or changeless; timeless; ageless; continual.

To look at these words and realize that there are those amongst us who ‘forever look for the best even in the face of adversity (Alexander Pope)’ is to be a true witness to the Faith of man – to stand in the presence of man’s ability to see the best in himself and his fellow man. Awesome, isn’t it?

We use the word HOPEFUL to describe that feeling we get when it looks like the walls are closing in, yet there is a ray of light struggling to shine through the rubble.

I like the word ‘HOPEFILLED’. To me, it points to a state of being where man has no choice but to fill up on Hope in order to be the light that he has to be in his day to day encounters. To be Hopefilled is to be above the flotsam and jetsam … to be in a state of higher consciousness and connection with Higher Source … in other words, for one to be Hopefulled, one must give all over to God. If we don’t hand over everything to God, we will have no room to be filled up with Hope.

Hope cannot survive in the face of doubt, blame, anger, vengefulness or any of the other poisons that we feel the need to cling to. It is important to empty the bin.

A wise woman said to me recently that once we have emptied the bin we need to be sure to thoroughly disinfect it, so as to prevent cross-contamination. What she was actually saying to me is that once we let go of the poison, we have to ensure that the ‘container’ where hope will be stored has been spiritually and emotionally cleaned and sanitized so that when Hope enters that space, it will be free to flourish. What good would it serve for Hope to enter into our hearts and be touched by poisons which would cause her to morph into contempt?

The wonderful thing is that once Hope is allowed into our lives, she always brings her sisters: Faith and Love.

Faith is the blind sister – and we are called to walk by Faith and not by sight. This is a difficult proposition for many if not all of us. We are a race of people who rely strongly on our optic nerves and sense, forgetting that we have four other senses to rely on. We forget that we must Taste life, Smell successes, and Hear our Maker’s voice in order to Speak joy, positivity into being.

Love is the strongest and most important of the three, for without her nothing is possible. Without Love, we merely exist. Without Love there is no spark. Love is the All Spark of our existence, a la Transformers … if we are not plugged in to Love, we have self sabotaged our existence.

So …

Today I choose to walk by Faith, with my heart Hopefilled, believing in and accepting the Love that I sense all around me …

What about you?

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

An open letter to TSTT Workers – particularly the members of CWU …


I went to hang out for a little bit last night and on my return voyage I had to pass by a political rally that was taking place in my neighborhood. I was struck by the size of the crowd, the colours, the noise … but the thing that really caught my eye was the presence of a contingent from the Communications Workers Union with flags and signs. One sign just JUMPED out of the crowd at me … it read ‘TSTT WORKERS OPPRESSED’.

Did I mention that the reason that I was returning home as early as I was, was because my head felt like someone had exploded twelve Roman candles in my frontal lobe? I didn’t? well that’s why … but the sight of that sign added twenty-four more of those suckers to my pain!

Oppressed??! TSTT workers oppressed??? These fuckers have got to be kidding! TSTT workers are the HIGHEST paid landlocked workers in Trinidad and Tobago, bar none. They have the best benefits, plus allowances … programmes that include their family members, incentives and perks! What the fuck do they know about oppression? Having spoken of the good that they do have, shall I tell you about some of the other things that they have as well?

 SOME OF THE MOST INEPT TECHNICAL SUPPORT STAFF (I say some because I know some of them are very hardworking, on point and knowledgeable – holla Allie and Deon )
 THE DODGIEST ROAD STAFF – DISHONEST TO A MAN – Talk to me about the ‘test’ calls maid to foreign countries … using consumers’ lines … like we don’t hear the conversations as we walk by.


WE THE CONSUMERS are the oppressed parties here and TSTT workers are the oppressors. I happen to be one of the few members of the public who have chosen not to use any other telecommunications company for my needs. I carry a BMOBILE cell phone NOT Digicel. I use BLINK for the internet, not FLOW, GREEN DOT, INTERSERV or anyone else. I have a TSTT landline not FLOW. I am loyal to this company to a fault and yet still I am constantly being handed the shitty end of the stick. And these ever lovin’, union prodded, cattle mentality havin’ folks want to stand in PUBLIC and declare that they are OPPRESSED???

Talk to me about oppression when I call Customer Service and am assured that all is well with my account and then I am ‘delighted’ to come home to find my service disconnected, and when I call yet again, I am greeted by the cold, attitude dripping voice of ‘Heather’ who informs me in the BITCHIEST way possible that ‘the information given you previously was incorrect, so yuh need to pay up the balance to get back yuh phone!’

Maybe it is that I may have gone to school in the wrong decade, but I seem to remember being taught that Customer Service is the backbone of the service industry; the other pillar being that without the customer there is no business … without business there is no money … without money there is no salary and without salaries there are no employees. Yet I am constantly bombarded by inept, unkempt (in-house) ad ill-trained staff. And this is supposed to impress me how???

Why should I and others like me be constantly subjected to this ineptitude?

The funny thing is that this is not the fault of Management. It is rather a culture that is nurtured and fed by a people who have no pride in their jobs or their company. And why not? Because the majority of them didn’t have to work hard to get their jobs in the first place. Between nepotism, the God-Father network, and the friends of friends who knew friends who were sleeping with the right people, TSTT, Blink and BMOBILE are all staffed by people who probably never had an interview, save being asked ‘WHEN YUH COULD START?’

And you want to talk to me about oppression when a TSTT Security Guard’s salary tops out at TT$10K monthly and I am not talking Officer here either? There are children coming out of high school and walking into TSTT’s hallowed doors only to walk out at the end of the month with TT$11K take home … children who spent less time in school than my generation did, only to make more money than us…

What is your version of Oppression CWU members? No increment for a couple of years? So what? You STILL make more money than the rest of the nation. No profit sharing? So what? You STILL make more money than the rest of the nation.

WHO CARES WHO OWNS A JET? It ain’t yuh damned business!

Over the years I have had conversations with others regarding CWU members and TSTT staffers and I have come to the stark realization that most of the older heads who work at TSTT have squandered their earnings on wine, women and song and at the end of their ‘careers’ they go into panic mode because they have accomplished nothing. That’s not management’s or the consumer’s fault either. They should have gotten their houses in order long before the ‘end toll’ was rung out.

As I see it, the only oppression here is self-oppression. Think about it … the CWU’s leadership live pretty well on your union dues don’t they … but what have they REALLY done for YOU lately???

Stop whining and get up off your collective fat asses and earn your keep --- or at least TRY to look and sound like you give a flyin’ fuck about the people you serve !

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Do You Really Want To Know Me?

Every other day when I open up my email, I am inundated with word games or numbers games all designed to get to know my friends better. There are questions about your favorite colour, flower, foods, restaurants … questions about the places you want to see before you die and people you want to meet as well.

This is all well and good, but the only way that this really works is if the people that you are mandated to forward these lists to have the manners to return the favor. There are days when I just simply refuse to fill these things out because, (1) they can be time consuming, and (2) I feel like I’m the only dork following the instructions posted.

While some of these questions may appear on the surface to be in-depth, they really do reach for superficial information. I mean … what can you really tell about someone just because they say that they like the colour red? The funny thing is that it could be that their favorite colour on THAT DAY is red. Tomorrow, if you send them the quiz again it could be green for all we know…

It’s a scary thing to say, but it seriously feels at this time that we as a race are losing the art of making REAL friends. When was the last time that you actually stepped off the ledge and asked someone a REAL question about themselves? This doesn’t have to be a personal question, but just a genuine one … one that requires more than ten seconds of thought to fill out the required slot on the quiz sheet. Have you asked a friend or a potential friend what their goals and aspirations may be? And if you have asked, were you really interested or were you just killing time till the next buss came along.

Maybe it is that I have been spoiled over the years by the people that I have met, but it always warms my heart that quite a few of them have actually LISTENED over the years to what I was REALLY saying, and not to the white noise that hovered over my statements at times. In order to do so however, they have had to make the ultimate sacrifice … actually SPEND TIME WITH ME … and I don’t mean via messenger. Oh I know that there are times when this cannot be helped – the messenger thing --- as in the case of friendships that have been formed overseas … but forgive me here … I’m talking about the people who are around the corner from you. Have you spent time with your friends? Have you taken the time to bond with them … learn what really makes them tick?

I am very attached to the ones that I deem friends, and those who know me, also know that I love to question and chat and talk … and I can talk for hours…

There are only a few people who can truly translate me. As someone who talks as much as I do, there are times when I can have two or three topics going at one time, and while I know exactly what I’m talking about at all times, it takes a Dee-Em-Jee expert to keep up with all the balls that I usually have up in the air …

My best girlfriends can do that – Nat, Trudy, Karma, Renee and Charlzie … they get me and they know when I’ve switched over and where I’ve gone to, and they are able to follow me. Amazingly my sweet H can do that too! How is it that a man has learned to pull the strings of one of my conversations together and have them make sense is beyond me, but that is exactly what he does. Hell, there are times when I lose track and HE brings me back in line – how funny is that???!

I speak of this because it illustrates the true nature of actual friendship. These are the people who have made an effort to KNOW me … not just of me or gain knowledge of the surface me. They know ME … the crazy, scattered but organized nut that lives within this ever changing shell…

So …

While I do enjoy the occasional quiz, just because they do at times make me think … I’d much prefer to have a sit down face to face where I can look into your eyes and gauge your reactions and your actual interest in the me that is the me on the inside – in the same way that I’d like the opportunity to do the same with you.

You decide … do you really want to know me?

Monday, August 17, 2009

Surrender ...

The word ‘Surrender’ is often looked upon as a ‘cuss word’; the normal connotation being that of giving up, having no fight left, not wanting to continue.

Surrender can also be a good thing. There are times when we all need to ‘give in’ – whether it is in order to achieve something or to lose or let go of something that is no longer profitable to us.

Surrender is most times a necessity in relationships, where partners have to release the status quo. It is understandably one of the most difficult decisions to make as a human – the conscious decision to release the norm … the familiar. This is usually when we begin raging against change, which ironically is the only true constant in life.

Yes it is true that Surrender means ‘to admit defeat’; it is also true that it means ‘to lay down arms’. As a race, we tend to hold tight to the idea of admitting defeat … we tend to reject the notion of surrender for fear of appearing weak, or soft or even broken in some ways.

My take on surrender is the notion of laying down arms. This means that I have CHOSEN to stop fighting. I have decided that the best option for me is to stop fighting against the change and to go into the newness with my eyes open and my heart open.

There is always a need to surrender to love … to surrender to the fact that there is someone out there who feels the same way you do and they are therefore surrendering to their own heart … their own feelings. Isn’t the prospect of MUTUAL SURRENDER a wonderful thing? To mutually surrender to the same feeling of love, companionship, kinship, passion, romance … all of those good things, must be and is a blissful experience … a soulful experience … something to be treasured.

To have chosen to stop fighting against the all consuming power of that kind of all encompassing love is to be the strongest of all … it is a mark of great strength for one to make suck a decision, particularly as we, none of us, have a clue as to what lies ahead. What a pillar of strength must you be to decide to live a life that happens one day at a time and totally unscheduled.

Give in to your ‘wild side’ and surrender to the love that is constantly knocking at your heart. Open the door – I dare you … and you will know exactly what you need to do to find the happiness that awaits you…

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Rain ...

It’s noon …
The sky is as black as night
And rains are pouring
It feels like a cleansing rain
The kind of rain
That floods the heart to empty the soul
The kind of rain
That falls like tears
And makes things whole.

It’s noon …
The skies have opened
And mercy is pouring down
Love is falling all around
The mist brings a
Newness to the air
All is crisp and bright
And there is hope
For dreams to be born
For visions to become clear.

It’s afternoon …
There is a rainbow
The rains have ceased
But has left wonderful
Things in its wake
Hope springs eternal
Dreams are bursting
Through the now
Fertile soil
Love is blooming
From the freshly
Watered plants of
Hearts that are
Lighter for the downpour …
The unleashing
Of the cleansing power
Of nature’s tears …

It was noon
It was raining
Now …
There is peace.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Dear Beautiful Soul ...

Dear Beautiful Soul,

Why have you let yourself be bogged down with he worries of the world? What makes your eyes run with tears for the ones you’ve loved and lost? How is it that I never see you smile anymore? It feels like you’ve lost your joy and your laughter, and that, beautiful soul is a shame.

I’ve watched you slowly lose your glow, relinquish some of your sparkle.

Don’t you know beautiful one that all joy begins and ends with you? You hold the magic yourself, and the sooner you realize that, the happier you will become.

Can you not see that my outer body is but a temple built and dedicated to your radiant beauty dear soul? Without you there is no me, and I am thankful that you have deemed my mortal shell worthy of your presence.

Having been presented with our gratitude, are you still going to keep your luminosity within?

Shine forth beautiful soul so we may pay you the homage you so deserve. Warm us from within so that we too may glow with your fire of your love.

I love you my beautiful soul and I thank the Creator for you everyday.

You are uniquely mine.

Thursday, May 28, 2009


I realized after I named this blog that the title actually belong s to a Michael Bolton song, but that’s okay … at least I’m in brilliant company.
What I’m referring to here is the sometimes soppy way that the ones who love us worry about our welfare.

I have to travel today to get home … no riding home with ‘THE BIG H’ as my mom calls the man of my dreams, and I have been mandated to do the following:-
1. Exhaust all avenues of getting a ride home
2. If no one is available, please be careful getting to the main street
3. Careful choosing cabs and cab drivers
4. Call as soon as I get to my door

Now you would think that I have never taken public transportation before – right? Or that I’m probably 12. I love the fact that ‘H’ worries but sometimes I feel that he’s worse than Mother Hen. What did he think I did before he arrived on the scene?
Isn’t it wonderful to be treated like a precious gem? It’s like a door opened and let the light in and suddenly, there is someone who is able to see our TRUE worth.

So it is when our Heavenly Father looks at us; he worries about us because he loves us…

The sad thing is that we do not ourselves take the TIME to look at ourselves with LOVE or with TENDERNESS. The truth is that we really do not have to look very far to see ourselves in that light. We have only to look into the eyes of those who truly love us. We look so good that we sometimes doubt our own reflections.

It’s not that our Loved Ones see us as blemish free or truly pure. What it is is that they see us as we truly are – human, with quirks and foibles. The difference is that we tend to be extra hard on ourselves, and they are more than willing – in most cases – to give us the benefit of the doubt, just as we are willing to do for them.

What a wonderfully symbiotic relationship.

Take the TIME to see yourself as the precious gem that you really are. Look at yourself through eyes of LOVE for yourself and treat yourself with TENDERNESS. It’s the least that you can do for YOU.


Friday, May 22, 2009

The Future Is Liquid...

… and changes with every decision that we make…

It may sound strange but it actually does make sense. There is nothing about our lives in this realm that is carved in stone. Yes, the destination has been mapped out by the Master, but the journey will still be filled with twists, turns and plot changes.

Has there ever been a time in your life when you were 100% sure of the path that the path you were on was the correct one, only to be blown completely in another direction?

That’s what I mean when I say that the future, like a running river, is liquid. With every mind shift, every doubt, every affirmation and declaration that we make alone this journey, we change the pace, the players and the flow of the rhythm of our lives/futures.

We are the mapmakers of our lives, even though there are times when we need to be nudged back into place by celestial hands. The basic premise is that we are in possession of FREE WILL, and that’s what makes the difference between us and the other animals. We CHOOSE the paths that we walk; we select the peoples – for the most part – that we share our journeys with. Ours is a charmed existence, even when we don’t feel that way. We are the Chosen … the ones made in the image and likeness of our Creator … we are the creations with thought processes and common sense, even though there are times when we seriously need to wonder where the common sense has gone. It’s still there, just under-utilized.

Life is such a beautiful and priceless gift to us all; yet we find ways to make it all so difficult.

As I wrote to good friend this morning, watch the shifting tides and the waters, and you’ll see where you’re heading.

Live in the joy of the knowledge that life is a journey scripted by you but directed by your Creator…

Monday, May 18, 2009

I Hope You Dance ...

Dance is often used to illustrate joy. The fluidity of movement and freedom of expression lend themselves to helping us in the celebration of all that is good in live.

There are times when the dance of joy comes easily to us; just as there are times when finding something joyful to dance about is virtually impossible for us to do, so frozen are we in our pain, sorrow, disbelief – whatever it may be…

What we need to understand is that we encounter backbeats in every aspect of out lives. Yes the music of happiness is what really captures and holds our attention, but the music of sorrow and sadness is right there as well, and while the tune may not be as sweet, or the beat a little more melancholy, we need to listen as intently and learn therefore to dance in these times as well.

This is the real challenge – to dance because of heartbreak, and in spite of it. The proof that we are indeed true dancers comes in the solos that we perform to the dirge in our hearts, to the unco-ordinated heartbeats that accompany the wholes left there when we’ve been hurt. When we choose to twirl to the throbbing in our brains left there by disappointment; only then can we truly be called dancers to life’s music.

There is a song that was made popular some years ago by Melissa Ethridge called Dance Without Sleeping that expresses what I mean in the following lyrics:

Dance without sleeping
Dance without fear
Dance without senses no message I hear
Dance without sleeping
Dance till I'm numb
Dance till I think I can overcome

The Dance of Life comes in different acts and phases, the joy, the uncertainty, the disappointment, the sorrow … all integral parts of our humanity…

I wish you the strength to hold on in the storm; the smile that radiates from a heart that’s bursting with thankfulness; the inner peace that comes from knowing that all is right with the world; and in all things…

I Hope You Dance …

Friday, May 15, 2009

When Your Heart Speaks, Take Good Notes...

I sent the above affirmation to the one who holds my heart this morning and even as I was hitting the ‘send’ button, I was wondering whether we ever really listen to our inner beings.

Our hearts speak to us in so many ways, and speak in clear concise voices, yet statements are constantly made by people saying that they should have listened better when their hearts said yes, no, stop, go – whatever …

Could it be that these clear but small voices are too small, or is it that we are so surrounded by the soundtrack of modern living that we have forgotten what it it’s like to take the time to be still and focus …

Our hearts are responsible for our lifeblood’s movement throughout out bodies; therefore, our hearts receive messages from every area of our beings. It stands to reason then that our hearts would have a pretty good idea as to what it is that we’re really feeling, as well as what it is we really need and want … yet we rage against the advice offered, by the heart, to the heart, for the heart.

We need to make a conscious effort to listen; to be still and to know that we are being counseled for our own good. Should we pay attention, we would find that our existence would not necessarily be as difficult as we’ve been programmed to believe. We would find the flow of days and moments to be smoother and more agreeable.

Our hearts tend to speak only when necessary and usually in an attempt to stop us from hurting ourselves, or to point us in the right direction.

Our hearts are also the residences of our Higher Powers, and as such there in lies the intercom to our souls and Saviours. We tend to ignore these whispers as well, yet we accuse then of non-communication because we refuse to be still and just BE, in order that we receive what we need from our Source.

All we need to do when we hear that voice or we get that feeling in our inner cores is to grab our pens and take really good notes.

It’s worth the effort – I promise…

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

To The One Who Holds My Heart ...

I love you.

I love you now like I’ve loved you for lifetimes past and yet to come.

I loved you when you were my father and I loved you when our roles were reversed and I was your husband…

There have been so many love stories between us, so many joys … so many tears, and yet we are drawn to each other lifetime after lifetime - like rainbows to the sky after the storm has passed.

I love you.

I love you even when you infuriate me wit your standoffish behaviour. I love you when you work my last nerve with your wisecracks one day and your silence on the next.

My love for you has given you the control over my personal weather patterns – you bring me my joy … can be responsible for my pain and are the catalyst for my silent contemplations. Your love for me makes me easier to be around, happier than I have been and freer to love you more.

I love you.

That’s all there is to this, and that’s all there needs to be to this…

You are my heart … you have my heart…

Always in All Ways,


Thursday, May 7, 2009

We Build ...

We build our dreams apart from each other
In the hopes that they will align
When we come together
We build our lives being sure to make room
In our constant evolution
For the ones who hold our hearts
We build our hopes on rainbows
That bridge the distance between
Our reality and our intent
Our truths are constructed
From the innuendo that springs
Out of the contact we have
With our perspective partners
With the people we meet and
Dare to dream that they
Would agree to be our friends
We spend our lives building
Those erector sets presented to
Us at birth – gifts from the fates
The fates being the same ones
Who delight in sometimes reeking havoc
And throwing lightening bolts at us
Knocking our tentative efforts
To the ground
We build constantly –
Our hopes, dreams, truths and aspirations
We may not always know the ultimate destination
But our search for happiness drives us
Yet further to build and build and build
We do so at a frenzied pace
Anxious to get to the point
Where we can say “That’ll do” …
But are we ever really sated
Or do we stop when we belive
We have accomplished what was fated
We build each other up
And break each other down
We build for hope and glory
We build for love and comfort
We build with each other … we build for each other
We dream and we build and we search until
We come upon the one…
That one who we were searching for
The ‘You’ in our ‘You and Me’ … the ‘Them’ in our ‘We’
The one who causes us to build in
The hope of finding the missing brick
The lost puzzle piece
The one who holds our balance
The music to our dance
The dance we dance as we build our
Castles in the Air…

Friday, May 1, 2009

Astral Connections...

In that wonderful place between slumber and consciousness

In that magical midnight witching hour

Your spirit finds mine and awakens me

To the wondrous delight of your astral ministrations

With fervor and heat and an urgency sweet

You arouse the dormant needs that flow through me

The want that inflames me the desire that moves me

And you feed me with the good, sweet

And intoxicating things that only your aura brings

You capture me with arms made of gossamer

And kiss me with lips made of mist

Everything about you feels so solid and true and strong

But you’re not really there

I am surrounded by your essence

The truest sense of your being

Yet physical vision causes your image to flee

I see you trough astral eyes

Through the vision of

A woman in love with her man

A woman at ease with going with this particular flow

One who is being made love to in the highest form of adoration

With the sweetest tenderness on that soft, silk wrapped cloud

Known as Astral Splendor

Our spirits meet … part and meet again

Our coming together a moment of mutual pleasure

In a place where time has no value

Soul to soul, yet skin to skin

We love on a plane where you penetrate

Not only my willing body but you make love to my

Ever expanding mind

My open surrender to you is matched

Only by your willing acceptance of me

And vice versa

Together we explore the many levels of astral pleasure laid out before us

Over and over and over again until our spirits can do no more

But explode into faceted crystal pieces falling gently to the earth like rain

As we disconnect from the silver cord that held us in place

As we loved the night away

In that secret place known only to you and me

On the Astral Plane …

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

The Story of My Life...

I’ve been trying to write my own story
But I’m finding it hard to do right now
‘Cuz I’m finding it difficult to write my story
Without your presence
I can’t remember what it was like before you
And I don’t think I want to
You have permeated every corner of my life
Your aura lingers long after you’re gone
When you’re here time flies
When you’re gone it stretches on and on

Write my life story without you?
Why would I even try
It’s clich├ęd I know
But you are a part of me
You are a part of my smile
You contribute to my joy
Your smile brings me laughter
And your hurt leaves me tears

Write my story without you?
I’m not even sure that
I could live my life without you
I miss you as soon as
You’re apart from me
And I anticipate your arrival
Like a child awaiting a treat
Silly, isn’t it?

I do wonder sometimes
Can you write your story without me?
Could you go a day without me?
Do you wonder about me when
I’m away from you
Does my absence leave a hole in your chest?
The way your absence leaves me bereft?

There are days when I’m given a
Peek into the window of your soul
And there are times when
I believe I can see my reflection there
And then … as swiftly as it appears
The portal is shut and I’m left again
To wonder like Alice

Whatever the reason or season
I am thankful for the footprints
That you’ve left on my heart
For the moment that you were
Gifted to me
All those lifetimes ago
And I am blessed in the knowledge
That your heart has found me
Yet again

May I suggest
That we write our stories together
One more time …

Tuesday, March 17, 2009


I had every intention
Of telling you what’s been
Floating around my heart –
The way my stomach
Double dips every time
I think about you

I had every intention
Of confessing my desire
To let my fingers
Do the walking all over
Your smooth, honey-toned body
As I explore the ridges
Hills, valleys and planes
Of your landscape

My truest intention
Was to let you know
That I desire more than
Want you, like I desire
Air and water for life
I say desire because
A want manifests a lack
And there is no lack here
Just a desire for more and more

My body intends
To warm itself in
The fire of your presence
Just as my soul
Intends to bond with yours
And find solace in the
Knowledge that we are as one

I have every intention
Of making my intentions known
I intend to bring them
To reality
‘Cuz I believe that your
Intentions match mine
Are you ever going to
Verbalize those intentions of yours?