Within

This Poem is copyrighted by: Rachelle Black 2009

This is a work in progress, I haven't found a way to finish it quite yet... but I will. Those readers who have found themselves in this particular place will get it. I would love some feedback!

There is a place I often go,
A place of sorrow, steeped in woe,
Where sunlight never dares to show,
I go

Into the depths, into the pit,
Into the wherenot I admit,
Cast I myself without all wit,
I sit

Within this place I often stray,
Where darkness winds its strands away,
A place of nevermore today,
I stay

I linger here I know not why,
Until the time of by and by,
Until there are no tears to cry,
I lie

There sit I under shadows in,
That place of tragedy within,
Ponder I the circus held therein,
I grin

A rictus strained, full of deceipt,
The abyss opens, then I leap,
Become I bundled, rag doll heap,
I weep

Torn and battered, upon the path
I drag my mind a leaving half,
Bitter, twisted, full of wrath,
I laugh

And from the corner of my eye,
A sliver paler than shadow I spy,
The darkness shreds, its tatters fly,
I sigh

This where I go, I must not tarry,
Or chained and bound my thoughts will marry,
While although shackled, the key unwary,
I carry

The rain goeth..... where ever it wanteth

The green, green grass.... of home..... wait! *gasp* can you see the alpacas????

Okay, I admit to being too lazy to come up with anything original...... wait, *backspace 78 times*

*sigh* I can't sit up long enough to type anything new and bloody brilliant yet, my belly button hurts..... you think I'm kidding right? Of course, but those of you who have never had belly button pain wouldn't understand anyway. Trust me, it is a fact of life right now strangely enough.

So, here is some prose from the year 2004 when it rained chickens, er, was it cats and dogs? for a week straight, and the Ark was almost built on our 'flat spot' near shark rock.

Seriously, everything we owned was soaked through, even our house. So, enjoy viewing my weed collection and reading some soggy sonnets.

Someone in the Midwest that rainy year asked us here in the West where the rain was. After I was able to surface, I put forth this in reply:

I have your answer: It goeth right here. It goeth all over the ranch, it goeth into our house, under our doors, through our roof, under our windows, and it taketh the ground away on our road in the form of mud slides.

It has been raining here for 4 days straight. It not goeth away anytime soon methinks. Tonight it turneth to snow, or so they say.

Our 'seasonal stream' currently goeth amuck and turneth into Raging Waters, we should charge admission.

The trees, they do atumble down the road with the boulders.

The mud, it doth wreak havoc and slide down the road making it impassible.

It goeth into the pacas ears, causing them to shake their heads all the time. It goeth under my collar and through my rain clothes.

It washeth away all of our berms, and floodeth our land.

Is it time to build an Ark? Who knoweth?
Not I,
Rachelle

Then, in desperation, I tried the old Indian Rain dance. When that brought forth hail, ( I knew I should have started with my right foot!!) I laid all the cards on the table.

Well, it seems the rain gods are in need of a sacrifice to allow them to go away peacefully and not return again until next winter.
So,
I hereby offer up as a sacrifice, the following things:
My favorite alpaca sweater, it is all wet and cold anyway.
My Uggs, though they may be soggy and smelly, they are still Uggs, and therefore valuable.
All the pots and pans, Tupperware, stray buckets and sundry items we have been using to catch the rain that goeth in our house through our leaky roof.
The soft pine floorboards that have floored our house for 15 years, after all, you got them wet, it's the least I can do.
The weeds on all of my acreage........ they are of amazing height and abundance, this should count as extra credit.
My muck boots, yuck, nuff said.
My rain coat and pants, come on, they never worked right anyway, you managed to goeth under and over them every time.
My shearing date - sacrificed already thank you very much.
And last but not least, a wheelbarrow full of mucky, soaking wet, heavy weight alpaca poo....... for your garden of course! :)
Please accept these gifts given with all the fervor I can muster.
As a last request, I beg of you to take your brother hail with you when you go. I know he is just more wet in disguise.
Until next year!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Here was a last ditch effort to rattle the rain gods. A musical tribute, and not very well done either, but I was determined it would work!!

To the tune of Annie's "The Sun'll Come out Tomorrow"

The sun'll come out, whenever
Wouldn't bet a dollar that tomorrow....
There'll be sun.

Just thinking about, tomorrow
Hoping, wishing, praying, that tomorrow
there be SUN!!!

Oh, today,
is gray,
and cloudy
But remember no rain, makes today, OKAY!!!!!

Tomorrow, tomorrow,
I hope that, tomorrow
The sun will come out to play!

(big finish, come on everyone join in)

Tomorrow, tomorrow,
I'll love ya, tomorrow
If only, the sun- - - will - - - - STAY!!!!

Respectfully submitted by the ASAMP Alpaca Society Against Mud Puddles: (okay so we're not that good at acronyms)
Founding members in good standing, although ankle deep.....
Eclipse, Luxor, Gil, Bilbo, and Sandpiper

This message will self destruct in 30 seconds.

And just for giggles, for all my fiber artist friends out there, when I first visited a weavers/spinners chat site.... let's just say my eyes were opened. Here was my first coherent post:

well, who knew.....
I must have my heddle too tight, I have a lot of tension, and have always been warped........
I am very bouncy, or is that loopy? And who knew I could adjust the tension???

Okay, okay, that is an inside joke for sure, but those of you faithful readers will understand that is a perfect description of me! HA!
Till next time!

Slainte~
Rachelle