I can't claim to know the back story on Jodi's title for her blog Why Paisley? and it really doesn't matter. I like paisley patterns.. and I wear it well. Had she named her poetry blog Why Plaid? well, I'd have to ask that question myself. Visions of Arnold Palmer and Bob Hope out there in the back 40 of a golf tournament wearing We're-Wild-and-Craaazy-Guyz-in-plaid-pants is enough to last a lifetime, thank you very much. No, when I think of Paisley's poetry I sense the delicate curves of her words; I hear soft-toned murmurings and barely-perceived vibrations flowing through chakra-shocked bruised layers of deep coloring; I see pale swatches of longings, far out of reach, and the streaks of carefully placed tenderness like fingers over braille. Paisley has the ability to get into your mind. She can affect your sensibilities. Paisley is positively.. riveting. Take her following poem Paint me a Picture, written in collaboration with Rick Mobb's painting titled Let Your Tears. See for yourself-
let your tears com
let them water your soul
by
eileen mahew
let your tears come,
let them water your soul
let them mix with the ash
of passions fire, grown cold
let them brighten the bruises
let their salt sting the scars
let them fill your lifes palette
let them color your art
let them mix with your blood
and your hurt and your fear-
then paint me a picture
i can see, feel, and hear....
His Love
underneath the stairwell
on the red pleather bean bag chair
she listened to the voices,, and she
could tell that they were mad
she dared not move a muscle
she fought hard not to breathe
she waited for the silence
that told her she could leave
she would sneak up thru the cellar
and out the back porch door
she'd look back and see her mother
lying passed out on the floor
she would whisper, "i fucking hate him.."
and then out the door she'd go...
today had been a good day
she'd got out before the fight
she heard him hit her mother
and hoped she was alright
she knew she couldn't stop him
and trying just made it worse
damn that demon alcohol
in her life it was a curse
tomorrow would be a new day
meek and mild he would be
afraid to lift his eyes up
afraid that he might see
the swollen eyes and cut blue lips
that symbolized his love....
don't blinkour birth marked the end of innocence
a new generation had been born
a time of freedom and drugs and sex
of violence and racism and war
all lines erased, no right, no wrong
tune in, turn on, drop out...
by junior high the lines were drawn
there was no backing down now
the world owed us a living
and the time to collect had come
get out of our way, man, we know what we're doing
and can't hear a word you say...
oh yeah, we walked on the wild side
we pushed it all to the limit
if it don't kill you, it'll make you strong
don't blink now, it'll soon be gone.
tomorrow breaths hard, now, at our napes
in a world so out of control
running amok on paths we fought to tread
what seems like, oh, so long ago
when we saw the world thru youth colored glasses
that we can't find, or we lost, or we sold...
no longer indestructible
not ten feet tall or bullet proof
we bemoan the world we knew back then
when in our youth, we ruled
the scepter passed on long ago
yet no one said a word...
oh yeah, we walked on the wild side
we pushed it all to the limit
if it don't kill you, it'll make you strong
don't blink now, it'll soon be gone
Please follow the linked last line to read the remainder of this poem at Just Paisley?
