Category Archives: Doctor Flamingo Online

Mama’s boy

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breath held to fend off the
whiskey vomit stench
his small fingers inch the bottle from her
limp grasp
like a deadly game of pick-up sticks

empty jim beam bottlepours the dark liquid down the drain
buries Jim Beam in a
garbage grave

then dashes out leaving
screen door ajar

garage peeling paintporch steps breached
sneaks along the lee side of the
garage
dressed in peeling paint
tears through
old man Smith’s petunia patch
lungs on fire

blackberryreaches his secret place
on the far side of the
blackberry hedge
hits the ground hard
squeezing back tears

her voice
too distant to be heard
still clack clack clacks
in his ears
mean drunk helicopter words
slicing through his brain

the same small fingers
pluck dark berries from their
prickly cocoons
liquid stains his
fingertips
blood or juice
it doesn’t matter

Reunion

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old lovesa tight spot in my chest
aches from the inside out
I want to
rock my heart
sing it a lullaby

revelations slip out
roused from dark places
deep hurt
flash frozen at eighteen
unthawed after fifty years in
cold storage
singed by freezer burn

past bliss
squints in the bright light of today
losing definition
more chimera than
substance

a whiff of his cologne
provokes an intimate connection
did we breathe the same air
share the same bed
touch skin to skin
or was it all
illusion

bodies
changed with age and wear
connect
snap together with the strength of
opposite polarities
he startled by new feelings
me saddened by the irretrievable

serendipity joins two bare wires which
spark as eyes meet in
air charged with expectation

selves are turned inside out
frayed inner seams exposed
mine more than his
healing and disappointment are
stitched together in a
bitter-sweet quilt

my higher power watches
seeing if I can find my way
force myself into real choices
not hypotheticals

every desire is coated with the
plain truth of distance
age
health
lives rooted in different soils

old obsessions are defused
left lifeless on the floor
swept away by the stiff broom of
common sense

new understandings of the past are
shared
separate lives
filled with choices
some good
some lousy
thankful we didn’t visit those choices
on each other
we never divorced each other
a gift in and of itself
never fought over money or children
never nagged
never closed our ears

can we accept it was all meant to be
exactly as it occurred
paths ordained to diverge
amid pain and misunderstanding
predestined now to intertwine
just long enough to
uncover buried secrets

we part with a body memory that
no one else will share or
understand

our futures turn
practical
more in keeping with our
current lives
but this reunion
this unexpected reconciliation
lingers to sweetly
flavor reality

Flight of the soul

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Dear Readers: In light of my recent near miss on a Southwest flight to San Diego, I’m publishing a poem I wrote several years ago

southwest takeoffmy flight lumbers down the runway
a drunken gooney bird
straining for liftoff
then soars into the morning sky
like an eagle
destination San Diego

flight plan prescribed
set altitude
longitude and latitude
predetermined
veering neither left nor right

each passenger
on a mission
mundane or sublime
but all set within earth’s bounds
a friend to visit
a funeral to attend
an elderly mother to care for
a business deal to seal

but what if this is not flight 1765 to
San Diego
what if this is an outbound flight
for my soul

I asked myself on rising this morning
my heart craving what it cannot have
can I discard my habitual moaning
my bitter tears
can I forego my usual recriminations
can I truly head in a new direction

clouds33-with-aircraftturbines surge
riveted metal shudders
as the plane breaks free of
earth’s gravity
ascends through a gray drizzle
into blinding sunshine above
a sea of white peaked meringue

suddenly a wing dips
our course is altered
anticipation and fear collide in my gut

the captain’s voice echoes in my ears
and mine alone
unfasten your seat belt Karen
feel free to move about in life
rise above your usual attitudes
oxygen masks have been removed
seat cushions no longer float
no safety instructions
no lights to direct you to the nearest exit
no soothing libations
nothing to take the edge off your fear

no exitin fact
there is no exit

leave your baggage behind
no carrying-on allowed
leave that suitcase packed with hair shirts and
sexy lingerie behind
fretting and yearning are prohibited

forget the flight tracker
you don’t need to know your destination,
nor your arrival time
all you need is you

phoenix_soul_by_clintonkun-d3clpipam I ready for this journey into the
heart of me
ready to stop regretting what I lack
open to finding
what I’ve not known about myself
not to uncover a smarter or wiser me
just a hidden me
one seen with non-judgmental eye
explored with gentle steps that
tread lightly on tender places

maybe this world needs a me
who is just me
not a better me
only the created me

plane rainjarred back to the present
thudding onto the runway
the captain announces our arrival
light drizzle
temperature sixty-five degrees

I know this is not my journey’s end
but its beginning
this journey of my soul will begin
with each breath in
end with each breath out
transport me to places
beyond my meager imagination

Guest post…The Loss of Mother

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recovery sign
The Loss of Mother
 
What can I say?  I say no more.
I am a closed door.
A dark, dark room.
All gloom and edges squared
Where do I go from here?
Corner to corner,
Edge upon edge
I long for the softness of my mother’s embrace
She is not here.  She is not there.
Corner to corner,
Edge to edge,
The loneliness is locked here inside this door.
 
Out.  Out, I say.
Open the door.
Feel the pain.
Corner to corner,
Edge to edge.
Feel the pain and out the door!


About my friend Marianne in her words:
I am currently employed full-time with County government and work two 
12-step programs.  Most of my free time is spent doing service work 
for my recovery programs, taking walks, swimming, and playing with my 
six year-old grandson. A lifetime lover of literature, music, and all 
things art,  I embrace this opportunity to share my experience, 
strength, and hope with others through this portal of poetry and hope
to learn from the experience, strength , and hopes of others.

Maybe I need to write a poem about waiting

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waitng

Courtesy bravegirlcommunity.com

romance in fifth gear
racing
headlong
daring
full steam ahead
damn the torpedoes

a friend suggests
waiting
caution
let love unfold as
rose in bloom
I nod as if in
agreement

inside my hasty heart
plots
plans
turns a first greeting into
I do

porcelain held mocha
raised with seductive grace
hints at fingers that could
hold other than a
cup
lips that could
nibble on
softer harder things

his words a prelude to my
self-composed
symphony
his syllables orchestrated to
fit my melody

my nagging big girl brain
throws up a red flag at
my impatience
my hungry heart
rips it down
a disappearing waitress
colludes
fairy godmother-like
more time
to charm
to drag him down
my garden path
gravel embedded in his
backsides

reluctant goodbyes
outside
on cracked sidewalk
he leans in for a
tentative kiss
I wangle more with
desired effect

two weeks pass
no word
cancel order for
bridal bouquet
refund honeymoon fare to
paris
swing wrecking ball
smash to smithereens
unshared desires
forever afters
new beginnings are hers
not mine

give that waiting thing
holding back
reserving judgment
grown-up stuff
a chance
move past thinking
waiting is for others
let it be a good idea for
me

no
not a good idea
I hate good ideas
let it be my idea
let waiting
restrain
tame
my wild heart

Maybe I need an oil change…

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drain oilmaybe I need an oil change
clean out that gunk that’s mucking up my life
remove the sludge that slows my engine
saps my get up and go

 

new oildrain out the sludge
pour in new ideas
so I can run more smoothly
head in new directions
explore new horizons

 

tire worn while I’m at it
rotate those old thoughts
don’t let them wear me down
in the same sore places
keep them from making me miserable
in the same old way
endangering my life as I drive through life

I don’t need a whole new me
just a daily tune up
every 6000 minutes or sooner
write
listen
pray

lifetime guaranteeif I take good care of me
I could last a lifetime
satisfaction guaranteed

 

When in doubt

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bad catpernicious thoughts
swirl
stew
boil
in my brain
determined to declare me
winner in this battle of
belonging

angry words lurk in
stamped addressed envelope in
my purse
patient
poisonous
each syllable soaked in
revenged intent
‘gainst him her
refusing to be
trashed

count to ten
if needed to
ten thousand
count blessings
god things
number hallowed gifts
intended for
hollow spaces

listen to
heart-meant cautions from
loving lips of
friends

read meaning-true
paragraphs of hope from the
same hand in
better times

recite prayers of
intercession
forgiveness
try to mean it

drop not into
blue box
drop into god box

Being enough…a mantra

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A friend passed this on to me. Certainly food for thought:

enoughWhat if for just one breath, I was enough?
That I didn’t have anything to gain or lose, to become or change.
That I, in this body, in this moment was enough?
How much more space would I create in my heart for happiness?
For contentment?
For love?

For just this one breath, I am enough.

flamingo_flying_med_clIn my Doc Flamingo persona, I am a licensed Psychologist in California and after a 40-year career as a therapist, am now serving as the Mental Health Clinical Director for a large health plan providing medical and mental health services to over 500,000 Medi-Cal recipients in 14 northern CA counties. In my Karen Stephen writer persona, I invite you to LIKE my AUTHOR FACEBOOK PAGE and tell me about yours.

 

Roundup for my soul…

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DSC01772 banish reluctance
pouty lip
acknowledge god-given gift
faculty to bear
what comes to pass

broad spectrum
fast acting post-emergent
depression-cide

water-soluable
mix with tears

guaranteed control
perennial fear
annual disappointments

graft new vein
on broken heart
plow garden-fresh furrow
into hard soil of resistant mind
plant hardy seed
anticipate growth

Reframing ~ when you need a new look at life

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flamingo_flying_med_clIn my Doc Flamingo persona, I am a licensed Psychologist in California and after a 40-year career as a therapist, am now serving as the Mental Health Clinical Director for a large health plan providing medical and mental health services to over 500,000 Medi-Cal recipients in 14 northern CA counties. In my Karen Stephen writer persona, I invite you to LIKE my AUTHOR FACEBOOK PAGE and tell me about yours.

reframingOne of the most powerful ways to change our stinking thinking is to reframe persistent negative thoughts. It’s not a matter of just putting on rose-colored glasses, pretending that something which seems awful is just hunky-dory. Cognitive reframing is a dramatic shift that occurs simultaneously in our brains and our emotions, one that allows us to see the disappointments, even the disasters of our lives in a entirely new way.

saying about lossThis saying is a recent example of how reframing dramatically changed even my own pessimistic and stubbornly-held attitude about a loss in my life. The saying popped up on my FACEBOOK Profile. It was just the ticket that, first of all, perfectly reflected the painful event in my life, the unexpected loss of someone whom I had assumed would always be there for me. Then it turned that lost dream into a believable promise for the future, one that I would never have considered as a possibility.

My thinking shifted immediately. Yes, absolutely, life can deal me an unimaginable blow, but on the flip side, it can also deliver an unimaginable promise. Even as I read it, I could feel something deep inside of me change. And every time the old pessimistic thinking, the grief, the sense of unfairness, the “why’s” of it all sneak up on me, my mind and spirit immediately go to the new promise. I find myself opening my eyes, my hands, and my heart, in anticipation of finding that something or someone that I’ve never dreamt of having.

Maybe winning that American Library in Paris Book Award for my novel MOTHER TONGUE.