The Cure for Flying Fears

Linking with Imaginary Gardens for the "Tuesday Platform" where Marian shares her anxiety for April and tackling a poem a day, and her BIG moment meeting her literary hero Michael Chabon.  I decided to share a story from long ago that I think covers both subjects; anxiety and meeting someone famous.  Although, my story also has a bit of humiliation to add to the scenario.

So here we go:

 

 

 Many years ago when I was in my 30's, my dear friend paid for me to fly to Ft. Worth to visit for my birthday.  I had not flown in over 10 years and my flight there was a total disaster for me.  I tried to keep my composure, but in my head I was freaking out.  All I could think about was how fast the plane was going, what a horrific death it would be if it crashed, and how I was going to give my friend a piece of mind for putting me through such torment.  She laughed when I told her about it, and being the wise and patient friend that she is, she told me that she would buy me a double margarita at the airport for the flight back.

 When we arrived at the airport to send me back home, we made a quick trip to the bar to quench my fears so they would depart my body.  Eventually we were at the waiting area and my friend noticed that the guys from the band "The Cure" were also on my flight.  At the time, I was not familiar with their music, but it was obvious they were a band, and some girls were getting their autograph.  By the time the plane was loading, they had already been seated in first class.  My friend sweetly walked with me all the way to the opening of the airplane.  Conveniently, it was right in the eye view of "first class".  Before we said our goodbyes, she explained to the stewardess that I had a BIG fear of flying and to take good care of me.  For a moment I was back in grade school, feeling the embarrassment that one feels when their mother exposes their little issues, like "she does wet the bed sometimes" or "that tangled mess on her head is a rat's nest no comb can move through" but lets not forget my favorite, "don't give her red meat, it gives her gas!"  All I could think about was I have just been totally humiliated in front of a rock band!  What luck, next stop VEGAS!!  Don't get me wrong, I was never mad at my friend in the slightest.  She was just so worried about me and her motives were genuine.  It was just bad timing, or I guess bad luck.  I walked meekly passed the band into coach where the road crew and all us nobodies fly.  As the plane took off and headed to Houston, I realized that my crazy fear, was almost gone.  I am not sure if it was the double margarita or the distraction of the rock band, but whatever it was, I was not dying a million deaths in my head and for that I was very grateful!!  Evidently"The Cure", was my cure!

 

 

 

 

The Undressing of Pride

Sweet Summer, 1912, John William Waterhouse

The Mag #225






Love is to the heart what the summer is to the farmer’s year — it brings to harvest all the loveliest flowers of the soul. ~Author Unknown






Love unmasks pride's inner fold like the smoldering heat of summer undresses the day.
Layer by layer is unlaced and loosened until it's outer clothes are stripped away.
It reveals with each soft kiss the beauty that eyes cannot attempt to view
giving strength to the fallen yet a weak place that bitterness can escape through.
it's atonement is an anthem as it revels in the lovely moments of the here and now
where bliss lingers lost in the unknowing of yesterday's regrets no longer found.

Complacency Is A Cowardly Sailor

Image by Mostafa Habibi

Magpie # 95

"A ship in harbor is safe - but that is not what ships are for."  ~John A. Shedd

A place that becomes too comfortable to move forward

is actually a very dangerous place to be.

For the longer you remain inside it's stead,

the tougher it is to escape the hold it has on you.

It is a deceptive theif whose sand will only sink you wear you stand.

What you thought was safety, was in reality a slow demise.

So take hold of some faith and take a couple steps out where it leads.

What do you have to loose? 

Maybe some sand in your knickers?

A Mighty Weakness

Poets United Think Tank Prompt #14

I am a wall I can be made of cement and rise up many yards high,

or I may be made of brick or stone, and reach out across the county side.

Sometimes I am a memorial that represents millions of brave souls,

and other times I am a fortress of protection that tells you where not to go.

But I hold up at my most mighty, and yet at my weakest place,

when I am built with fear, and doubt littered with pride's own waste.

There are walls that protect...

There are walls that remember...

There are walls that divide....

and there are walls that are destructive...

I am all too familiar with the walls a broken heart can build.

My father and brother had a "falling out", and were at odds with each other for years.

They did not speak for long periods of time, and never resolved their hard feelings.

When my father passed away in 1992 my brother was devastated.

He was in a form of grief the rest of his life.

He passed away in 2002.

I have faith, and I am certain that they know peace now.

A Net Full of Butterflies

Think Tank Poetry Promt #4

I can hear it in your voice, the angry words you can't forget.  A heartache's anthem is echoing over and over in your head.  But can you remember when you were just a child, it was easy to hear the magic in the song.  You could dance around all day no matter what went wrong.  Just close your eyes and try,

for a child sets anger free like a net full of butterflies.

I can see it in the tears that you never cry, you are not as strong as the shield you hide behind.  But can you remember when you were just a child, and it was easy for the tears to fall like rain.  When you were upset it was written all over your face.  Just close your eyes and try,

 for a child lets pride go like a net full of butterflies. 

I can feel it in your touch you just can't let it go.  You are holding on to the past lke a trophy of plated gold.  But can you remember when you were just a child, it was easy to forget the troubles of yesterday, leave them all behind and play the day away.  Just close your eyes and try,

for a child tells betterness goodbye like a net full of butterflies.

A great site for poets that blog Poets United