Category Archives: Poetry/Writing

No Fingers Left to Point

I started this poem during a time when I was still using excuses as my crutch.  I was still relying on the good ole’ “I am this way because…” phrase.   The truth is that it is often easier to blame others than to accept and take on the challenge of change. It is easier to point fingers when you fail than to accept it a pathway to change.  In life, we must be careful though because soon we can be left with no more fingers to point.

 

No Fingers Left to Point

Finger points, gun ready aim,
fire
the broken glass is first,
because even shattered windshields require
blame.

First finger points
to their childish quarrels
as words expel more
an eye for an eye,
can they even remember
what that stands for?

Second finger points
he makes me do it
the choice is never my own
a squirrel cannot survive the streets
on such an indecisive throne.

Third finger points and cries
the ability to shoot back
depends on what her lonely heart lends
to her cheating hand
anything for a friend.

Fourth finger points
their words make her starve
to hunger differently
it is not her own
nor that of the skeleton they not see.

Fifth finger points
they fill her cup
like everyone does to fit in
as she still keeps track,
what even matters?
what even counts?
in drunkenness, she thirsts
a new way to silence, the crying within.

Sixth finger points
plaid skirts to her knees
try it the right way,
until rolls it to the waist
her morals to the curb
caves for someone to love
no one to save me
as if, no one watches above.

Seventh finger points
to her white dress
how can she still cry
how can she still yearn for more,
as he promises to stay
and plays the violin
over her broken seams
no longer knows herself
no longer the recipient
of her own dreams.

Eighth finger points
they judge her before
a mother they can see
babies she wraps in love
nurturing this new version

Of me.

Ninth finger points
these shoes teach me to be, just that
as they tiptoe into the dance
my feeble legs fake that seductive strength
of who they cannot understand
still broken in form,
but somehow, I still stand.

Tenth finger fires
and no more remain
leaves me as a fingerless pawn,
in this fruitless game.
For all these fingers, they point back too,
aimless, blameless, responsible,
and for the first time,
I face imperfection’s true attack:
no one to blame,
no where to point,
no where to run,
to face the truth, fingerless,
exposed accusations leaves me alone,
to do just that –
finally sells me back the truth
that accepts and forgives them all,
as I hold myself
in the unclenching of a fist,
for ten fingers I now lack.

Finally I accept it all to breathe free
responsible solely for me
with no fingers left to point,
I finally face
that I wish I had all ten of them back.


© Jennifer Kosuda and The Art of a Messy House (theartofamessyhouse.com), 2019. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jennifer Kosuda and The Art of a Messy House with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


Freedom comes when we stop pointing fingers. It is then we can unfold our fists and soften our hearts to the life we deserve. Excuses are just that, excuses. They will never bring us to the more our lives are made for. Those excuses are crutches that steal so much more from us than they do from those we direct our anger, our sadness, our fingers to.

Freedom comes with patience and prayer.

Freedom comes from time used wisely instead of being wasted in the distractions, in the excuses.

Freedom comes from forgiveness.

It comes from letting go of the clenched fist and allowing the heart to beat freely again. Freedom comes from leaving all the excuses on the beach and getting into the living, healing waters, instead of waiting for someone else to save us.

That was a difficult message for me to hear because I didn’t want to hear it. It was easier to blame others for my battles and hardships than take the matters into my own hands. For the longest time I thought that it meant I needed to take on and carry all of that weight myself.

But that is never the case.

We are never meant to carry the burdens ourselves.

The resentment and excuses will never allow us to truly be free of anxiety, depression and pain.

But learning to let it go will.

So, please forgive me now for the mess. I’d rather walk proudly with the scars and with my fingers and arms ready to hug my loves, even if it means I may have to skip, jump or even limp over the clutter at times. But at least I have no more crutches laying around to trip me up too.


“When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, “Do you want to get well?” “Sir,” the invalid replied, “I have no one to help me into the pool when the water is stirred. While I am trying to get in, someone else goes down ahead of me.” Then Jesus said to him, “Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.””

‭‭John‬ ‭5:6-8‬ ‭NIV‬‬

https://www.bible.com/111/jhn.5.6-8.niv


Get your mat and walk! Lay down the excuses no matter how long they have been stirring there, no matter how long you have been waiting. It’s your time to let go and live.

 

One Curled Eyelash

Days escape to the young rants,

of words, of requests, of needs,

beats for these moments,

pushes aside own innate greed.

Dries hair, upon my lap she sits,

collects hair ties to borrow,

bruised knees cry for ice as he shouts,

hungry bellies demand, it is time to eat,

still my face finds make-up has no time to greet.

The washed up circles, crookedly sewn lines,

I’ll moisturize you again, dear face, when I find the time.

Showers of just a minute to disguise the sweat,

if only the razor and hands could embrace, like when they first met.

Hairy tops blanket one of my limbs, the other one bare,

the dress I’m wearing forgets to check I swear.

The morning race to actually match pants to shirt,

unbuttoned, does not even check, when I run to see who is hurt.

Those same pants decide to shrink, revealing is not my intention, despite what watching minds may think.

Lipstick kisses away to chubby cheeks, and those that need a change,

loving,

wrinkles dance near my tired eyes,

perfect imperfections outline a decade,

where tweezers are now so strange,

on stained piles of laundry, atop countless toys that do not clean themselves,

in their boxes drown away beneath, yawns and vows, tomorrow to try.

But still days escape, both she and he,

the days slowly coax years to fly.

So I must smile, battling the urge to wish away, these same minutes,

where the imprint of handprints and those of their feet leave beauty marks to be celebrated and worn

those that time flies by, in a flash, captures the beautifully torn edges

upon a heart that learns to enjoy that very flash.

So when you look at me, you’ll see it too,

Wrinkled lines of joy, under that

one,

still,

curled eyelash.


© Jennifer Kosuda and The Art of a Messy House (theartofamessyhouse.com), 2019. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jennifer Kosuda and The Art of a Messy House with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Perspective

All day. Every day. It’s all about perspective. I saw my life change in incredible ways when I shifted this exact thing: perspective.

Invite happiness in even though life is not perfect.

Accept that life will never be perfect.

See the world through a different lens.

We all have the ability to do this.

The mind needs to be retrained, retaught, renewed every day. Remind yourself to find the good and turn your focus away from the mess, and see the beauty. I promise it changes everything.

Besides, who doesn’t like a little mess here and there anyways?

Perspective

Hope in the Lord

strength will renew

like eagles soar on each wing

the run will not grow weary

the walk will not be faint

a perspective that frees

a love to sing.

Perspective is funny

as often as it fails

it is even more of a reason

why it must prevail

so grab hold to the truth

a quiet secure place

in such a noisy world

where God holds heads

and shoulders above

all that tries to pull us down

it’s all about perspective

it’s all about such a love.

A thousand may fall at your side

ten thousand at your right hand

but it will not come near you

that perspective you control

when in His love you stand.

Perspective is funny

as often as it fails

it is even more of a reason

why it must prevail

so grab hold to the truth

a quiet secure place

in such a noisy world

where God holds heads

and shoulders above

all that tries to pull us down

it’s all about perspective

it’s all about such a love.

Do not be afraid

for who is with us

is more than who is with them

so renew your mind

take hold of those thoughts

with eyes on God

truth and blessings collide

and true living, they finally find.

Perspective is funny

as often as it fails

it is even more of a reason

why it must prevail

so grab hold to the truth

a quiet secure place

in such a noisy world

where God holds heads

and shoulders above

all that tries to pull us down

it’s all about perspective

it’s all about such a love.

-JK

For more on this, check out:

Psalm 27:5–6

Isaiah 40:31

Psalm 91:7

2 Kings 6:16

The Snow Day Reset

Snow Day Reset

Fast forward plays on repeat

the days trick the nights to fly by fast

the race to nowhere where stamina cannot last

what is rest in a world

that allows cups to be refilled,

… and refilled …

… and refilled …

where dreams sit waiting for time to get out

shivering in the back seat

inhaling the aroma of doomed defeat

frozen limbs of even the strong-willed.

But the blizzard and its fiery companion meet

as the sky tries to hold back the winter playground

until each flake decides one by one to release

like confetti thrown from the sky

they dance into white dunes to magnify the light

mountains of possibilities form

from raw remnants of those powdery clouds

there is nothing more tangible

than snow angels with motherly curves

and Frosties rolled into existence by tiny fingers

where innocence actually gets what it deserves

where chapped lips and layers upon layers of clothes

suffocate the speed of deadlines and to-do lists

and for just a day – time seems to forget

all but, old man winter’s plea

for the earth to pause

and for that,

I am thankful for a day to reset.

– Jennifer Kosuda


So grateful for a day to reset… the world needs more days like that. Today, I allowed myself to be lazy and carefree (well, a lot more than usual).

What do you do to reset? 


© Jennifer Kosuda and The Art of a Messy House (theartofamessyhouse.com), 2019. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jennifer Kosuda and The Art of a Messy House with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


What Drives You Crazy?

Think about someone close to you.

What’s one thing that drives you crazy about this person whether it is a loved one, significant other, spouse, family member or friend? 

Or maybe there’s a few things?

As much as we would like to say, there is nothing.  With time,  most, if not all of us develop those pet peeves that can lead to inevitable arguments, disagreements, or situations.

The reality is they exist… and while compromise is a crucial part of any relationship, sometimes it is not possible.  Instead, it may require some acceptance on our part.

Accept it!??! That one thing that drives us crazy!?!?! Oh heck no!!!

But wait….

and hear me out…

The thing that drove me crazy for years was my husband’s love (aka obsession) for our grass. Perfect grass was not possible in the life of a family of two young kids and a Labrador. Yet, he spent hours relentlessly making sure that our lawn would one day be just that…perfect!

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In fact, one summer his deep partnership with our lawn, required many weekend afternoons caring for it.  Yet, after our basement flooded, we needed to have a lot of work done in the backyard to prevent future ones.  As our backyard was beginning to have more and more of the perfect set up for a barbecue or summer party, one patch of his beloved grass was destroyed by the workers. Therefore, any parties, barbecues, or actually … anyone near that area of lawn … was forbidden for the rest of the summer.

I tried… I really did… but when your husband comes home and runs to greet his growing patch of grass before his wife and kids…

…I admit I lost it! (A few times!)

That was until I took on a poetry challenge.   I love poetry and have been writing it for most of my life.  It had been around this time last summer where I wanted to push deeper with it… to push for a dream of mine a bit more seriously, the dream to be published

Therefore, I heard from a poet friend about an opportunity.   It required me to devise a poem base don a prompt and model poem.  If chosen, it would be published in an upcoming book. So what did I have to lose?

When I sat to review the prompts, one jumped out at me:

“For your own love poem, zero in on a single talent your beloved has.”

Right away, his grass jumped into my head.  His grass! My pet peeve – his passion…

Could that really been seen as a positive thing? A talent? This obsession that drove me mad!

The task called for me to learn about this talent and turn it into a metaphor.  Therefore, I sat outside on that late Spring evening, and asked him questions about terms I never knew existed. Or if I’m being completely honest, terms I never cared about. Or rather…never tried to care about…

Strangely enough, not only did a poem get drafted that was soon chosen to be published, but somehow something that drove me crazy for years turned a new leaf.  Suddenly, I did not feel so crazed over it either…

 

Grass

Who’s kept receipts anyways
things you’ve learned over these years
growth you’ve sang into the grass
never doubting sun and rain to not agree
what steps to grow what patience set free

why throw dough to someone’s stranger
when you can spread the seed or at least
you’ll start using the rototiller
sweating over the inches
spreading over the daunting dirt

so many weekends to foster new year’s lawn
fertilizer for the poking patches
tall fescue perennial rye
manual hose automatic display
and tools I cannot even say

sun and water and more seed
depend on you
to know how to apply
and bring back to life
lean on you never to die

– JK

 

For more poems and excellent poetry writing tips from this collection, check out the following book:

“The Practicing Poet: Writing Beyond the Basics” – Diane Lockward

 

In the meantime, try it out sometimes, embrace what drives you crazy about someone you love, learn more about it, and see what happens.   I did not know it at the time, but it was the perfect way to combat or rather extinguish many potential arguments.

Try to find out why they love “that thing” so much.

We may always have patches of imperfect grass that call my husband to spend hours tending to it… that make me want to pull the hair out of my head…

but at least we can appreciate the beauty of its growth more…

…at least I can appreciate the passion and man behind it…

…and hopefully we can have a few barbecues in the meantime too…