"Try Another Door" A Darker Poem

Photo by: Rodion Kutsaev

“Try Another Door” by, Erica Jacobs

I am a dollhouse.

Mulberry wine paneling,

smooth, brown shingles,

crisp, white shutters.

Modest mailbox on my manicured lawn,

White, picket fence,

porch swing.

I don’t open from the front…

Try another door.

Ready, set, turn me around.

Do my outsides match my insides?

Spoiled, sour, stale

milk.

Cruddy, crazed, crushed

cookware.

Broken, busted, baby

dolls.

Jagged spider web mouths

hover over a chandelier.

Chipped, checkered floor,

now an ugly grey…

Try another door.

Smelly, soggy, stained

bedding.

Cracked, crooked, coarse

canopy.

Dusty, dingy, dirty

bedposts.

No one

wants to sleep here.

No one

wants to be here.

Try another door.

Dilapidated, damaged, decayed

figurines.

next to a

Slanted, severed, smashed

cradle.

Watery, wilting, wasting

wallpaper

behind

Dense, damned, destroyed

Bookcases.

Try another door.

Empty wooden rocking horse

calls out,

for one last ride.

Who did this to me?

How did I get here?   

Compartmentalized,

boxed,

broken,

dark

It’s hot in here.

Please

someone

open a…

Someone…

try…

another…

I AM: Part One

Dear friends, Here's the thing-- for the last eighteen months, I've been doing all the work on this blog. I'm not complaining! Believe me, allowing my heart and soul to explode out of my fingertips, onto my screen and into your retina is a blessing. Like, pressing PUBLISH is one of my favorite things ever. In the interest of fun and always being willing to try new things, sometimes, kinda, normally not-so-much, however, I've decided to break up the routine of writing at you and take an opportunity to write with you. TOGETHERNESS! FUN! RIGHT?! YEAH!

Okay so, here's what we're doing this week; I have written a poem entitled, "I Am". I'm going to post my completed work below as an example. I challenge you fill in your own blanks, starting each line with "I Am" and follow these simple steps:

1) Copy & Paste template (list) into a word doc or into the NOTES on your phone

2) Complete your own "I Am" poem--you may add adjectives if you wish, but keep each line just to a short sentence

Add a pic of yourself, draw a picture, whatever!

3) Email it to me (if you'd like--I'd LOVE to read them!!) * EJacobsCoach@gmail.com

4) Read it aloud to yourself, your house plant, husband, wife, dog, Yoga Teacher, each day for the rest of the week

Next week, we will do Part Two of this exercise! It's a good one ;-)

HAPPY WRITING!

"I am" by, Erica Jacobs

I am Ruby red like Dorothy’s slippers

I am a big circle

I am a headstand

I am a round of applause

I am an elephant

I am three

I am Hard Sun, by Eddie Vedder

I am a cherished vintage VW bus; impossible to forget

I am a Boyfriend Pillow

I am sushi

I am a microphone

I am a day at the circus

I am earth

I am an Evergreen; constant and fun to decorate

**YOUR TURN**

 "I am" by,

What Color

What Shape

What Movement

What Sound

What Animal

What Number

What Song

What Car

What Piece of Furniture

What Food

What Musical Instrument

What Place

What Element in Nature

What Kind of Tree

*Can't wait to see what you write for yourself*

How Moments Become Holy

In honor of #TBT and my process of allowing bits, pieces and chunks of my childhood that no longer serve me to fall away, I want to write about the things I must keep with me. I've landed in many Holy Moments, usually sporadic, unplanned, totally necessary. These are some of the most significant, life-affirming and breath-giving memories I have. And even as a grown woman, every once in a while, a Holy Moment finds me and I am reminded of what really matters...

(I'd love to hear some of YOUR Holy Moments in the comments below!) xoxo

Holy Moments by, Erica Jacobs

Sometimes a little girl will end up in a moment she never wants to leave.

Like child’s play;

perfectly unplanned,

completely timely.

She allows herself to get lost in the great knowing she is enough.

Sometimes a little girl’s hair will be combed through and through,

with trusted fingertips,

from her forehead to the split ends of her wild hair.

She lets someone love her.

Sometimes a little girl will lie on a concrete driveway,

gaze at a palm tree’s crown.

Ants make their way onto her toes,

in a single file line.

She does not question validity of her thoughts,

as her mind waltzes through rhythms of time.

Sometimes a little girl’s childhood

will be affirmed—

unabashed laughter,

sprawled on a dusty basement floor.

She wonders not,

about to whom she is worthy,

but who is worthy to her.

Sometimes a little girl will drape her body,

over the lap of someone she loves.

While heavy tears flow free,

she allows herself to just be held.

Sometimes a little girl will wish these moments

went on forever;

that they happened all the time.

She may realize, though,

a holy moment isn’t a moment at all—

but a feeling deep in her gut,

accessible to her,

anytime.

Wherever she may be,

however old she is,

a holy moment

is never far from reach.

Some Holy Moments as a grownup:

she writes poetry, too??

"Talent, Borrowed" By, Erica Jacobs

My elusive, creative Genius tiptoes through the walls of my writing room

She places her disarming hand on my furrowed, worried brow

Assures me creativity and suffering are indeed not linked

I tell her I am afraid of the work I have been put on this earth to do

I am fearful of the day my best success is behind me

I’m terrified to discover I am forgettable

She reminds me that brilliance, authority, notoriety, fortune, are all on loan

They are not born in me, but at me, with me, for me

Successes are fluid and unpredictable, it is better this way

This creates space for more talent to surface in the face of others

Perhaps my elusive, creative Genius protects me from the results of the work,

Shields me from narcissism, spares me ultimate disappointment

I’d rather swallow the sun, than be solely responsible for my success and failure

I now take comfort in the knowing, I am not a genius. I have a genius.