#amwriting #poetry #AlwaysKeepFighting Life’s Crossroads, a poem for Donna Crawford by Tracy Diane Miller

Here is a new poem that I just wrote for Donna Crawford. I know that you have been having a difficult time. I hope that my words offer you a little comfort. I’m thinking of you today, Donna Crawford :

#amwriting #poetry #AlwaysKeepFighting Life’s Crossroads, a poem for Donna Crawford by Tracy Diane Miller

Doubt and uncertainty
Pain and sorrow
The tears of today
Will they leave me tomorrow?

For I stand at life’s crossroads
I listen to a heartbeat;
The sound of determination
To rise above defeat.

Yet, I am human
There are tears that leave a message of melancholy
across my face;
I am tired, sometimes weary, in life’s endless race.

I see a world that scares me each day, growing before my eyes
I see the warriors of compassion, strong and ready to fight
And beyond my pain, do you know what else I see?
I see life’s crossroads, clear and within sight.

Fate is mischievous
I know that she won’t speak,
What is my road less traveled?
What will I seek?

Through the years that blind me,
Through the sorrow, so hungry as to eat me alive,
I seek courage: and courage lives inside of me
Helping me to survive.

For every day, I stand at life’s crossroads
I look at the uncertainty, what really lies ahead?
With faith and compassion to serve as my compass,
I must not be afraid.


#HappyBirthdayJoeyAdams #poetry In that delicate balance between laughter and tears, a birthday poem for @RealJoeyAdams by Tracy Diane Miller

#HappyBirthdayJoeyAdams #poetry In that delicate balance between laughter and tears, a birthday poem for @RealJoeyAdams by Tracy Diane Miller
What is life?
It is that delicate balance between laughter and tears,
Between joy and sorrow that leads us through the moments,
From today to tomorrow.

How can we understand that need to laugh, and in that same
moment, we are driven to cry?
Our hearts dazed by the confusion,
That we find ourselves questioning why.

What is life?
It is that delicate balance between laughter and tears
in the soul of a writer,
as he crafts the characters to endear?

His characters emerge in the shadows
Hungry to be heard, even as they patiently wait.
Their voices are never silent,
Their courage is always great.

For these characters, these stories,
That speak to that delicate balance between laughter and tears,
That examine a world made dark by the screams of discontent,
Weary by societal ills, emotions that are spent.

In that delicate balance between laughter and tears,
You, the writer, serves as our guide.
For you are a man strong in his convictions,
Living in a world where compassion sometimes hides.

Is it any wonder that a Muse has much to say?
And that a poet who admires you,
Can find the words to honor you,
On this, your birthday.

@aycox_fans My Review of Misunderstood Meri Jane, Episode 5 with @RealNickiAycox

@aycox_fans My Review of Misunderstood Meri Jane, Episode 5 with @RealNickiAycox
Misunderstood Meri Jane with Nicki Aycox has been an unscripted, raw, compassionate and informative look at the benefits of medicinal marijuana in managing the paralyzing effects of high functioning anxiety. Actress and musician Nicki Aycox has fully honored the covenant that she made with listeners from the outset of this podcast series by not only drawing upon her personal experiences and research but also by examining this topic in an uncensored and honest way. Aycox reminds listeners that the onerous is on all of us to remain informed and to broach any arguments on this issue from a position of compassion.

Episode 5 begins with Aycox expanding on her look at the CB 1 receptor (discussed in Episode 4) as she notes, “which is a receptor that is found in the human brain that binds itself to the THC compound also known as the cannabinoid that is found in the marijuana plant that is a major cause for the stoned feeling we get when we consume marijuana.” Aycox is candid in admitting that she doesn’t enjoy the side effects associated with feeling stoned as much (although she doesn’t always dislike it); rather, she seeks the relaxed feeling that aids in her high functioning anxiety. Since high functioning anxiety is exhausting (due to the tendency to overanalyze and thoughts becoming heightened) so clearly, a relaxed state is advantageous.

What I find to be an asset to this podcast series is that Aycox carefully lays the framework for why medicinal marijuana is beneficial in managing high functioning anxiety, yet she is always notes that there are factors at play that each individual needs to explore for him or herself. Thus, unlike pharmaceuticals, medicinal marijuana is “non conditional”, that is, you won’t get the same effect every time and in addition, your body doesn’t depend on marijuana to the same extent that it would be on pharmaceuticals (which is why pharmaceuticals cause addiction). Aycox does caution, though, if you’re using marijuana to chase a high, the desire for that high can be addictive. “Checking out on life” or “escapism” have inherent dangers.

Along those lines, Aycox carefully draws distinctions between the recreational use of marijuana for the sole purpose of getting high versus the medicinal use of marijuana to combat high functioning anxiety. Still, compassion is underlying Aycox’s arguments in that she comes from a place of advocacy not judgment.

Misunderstood Meri Jane, Episode 5, effectively builds upon the themes of the earlier episodes. Well done, Nicki Aycox!







#HappyBirthdayGordonThomson #amwriting #poetry A life well lived, a birthday poem for Gordon Thomson by Tracy Diane Miller

A life well lived, a birthday poem for Gordon Thomson
by Tracy Diane Miller

The memories safeguarded within the closet of the mind:
Those images of childhood, of youth, of who you were then
And of who you are now, all tell the story of a life well lived.

As an actor for over half a century, your mind has memorized
numerous scripts.
You have become the embodiment of characters; men who boasted great potential, yet who also wrestled with their own egos, who fed society’s wrath;
Men born to greatness, still led down an uncertain path.

A Carrington prince, whose birthright was stolen
on a September day;
An old woman who claimed the title of a grandmother,
on her deathbed the truth she conveyed.
“Promise me you’ll go to Denver, go to your real parents”, she said, and with a silver baby rattle, as Michael Torrance, you wondered, where the future led
To take your place within an oil dynasty, what challenges were ahead?

To become Adam Carrington
An enigma that he seemed
A mixture of intelligence, charisma and cunning
What was his latest scheme?

Later, as Mason Capwell
You continued with skill
To mold a character
Your rapport with viewers, you definitely fulfilled

Yet, before you assumed these characters on television,
these men for viewers to engage;
You perfected your craft
Upon a theatre stage

Acting is about truth, you said
For there is a reason why
A covenant with the audience;
Means that through his performance, an actor must not lie.

To breathe life into a writer’s script
To let the emotions flow
A noble profession
Is how actors let characters grow

Yet, what else through a performance
does an actor reveal?
Is it the essence of his soul
that he doesn’t conceal?

A life well lived
Is to capture the moments, then hold them
within the palm of your hand;
To give freely of your heart, one must understand.

The memories safeguarded within the closet of the mind:
Those images of childhood, of youth, of who you were then
And of who you are now, all tell the story of a life well lived.

#amwriting #poetry Thinking of you with a smile, a poem for @erinwise82 by Tracy Diane Miller

#amwriting #poetry Thinking of you with a smile, a poem for @erinwise82 by Tracy Diane Miller
When the world comes crashing down upon you
Unforgiving, like an angry wave
When you just want to disappear
Why can’t life just behave?

You may think to yourself
Ask the question, through your despair
If I could just disappear
Who would really care?

The answer you need to see
The answer stares right back you
The truth before your eyes
Told in the hearts of those who love you, it should come as no surprise

I think of you with a smile
I think of the woman, with the unspoken sorrow
Who in silence may weep
Yet, she gives hope to others: Hope becomes theirs to keep

I think of you with a smile; I know that my life often refuses to behave
And I know how you have reached out to me
At my lowest moments: when I may not expected compassion
But it was compassion I craved

I think of you with a smile
I think of you, Erin
Of your burdens so great
And through the miles, these words I send, I anticipate

That somehow, as you feel lost
When sorrow wages a very high cost
I think of you, and a poem I write
These small words of solace, to blanket the night

When you just want to disappear
I need for you to know
These words that I write
My affection to grow

Erin, you give so much to others
Even as you ask: how could that be
Please look at me
For I want you to see

The girl who writes poetry
These words from her heart
She sees you so clearly
Compassion becomes your art

Erin, if others won’t take the time
To say these words
Please keep them near
Hearts would be broken, if you disappeared

Visitation dreams from our dead loved ones & how they support us from beyond the grave by Tracy Diane Miller

Visitation dreams from our dead loved ones & how they support us from beyond the grave by Tracy Diane Miller

My mother passed away on Tuesday, May 10, 2005 at 3:40 a.m. , yet in a very real sense, she never left me.

Ever since she physically left this world almost 12 years ago, she has visited me in my dreams at least twice a week. Others might disagree, but I’m convinced that her visiting me in my sleep is how she continues to support and reassure, particularly during my dark moments. Back in the early 1970s when I was a child (& I had an unnatural obsession with death), I was absolutely terrified that my mother would die and leave us alone in this world. We didn’t have any extended family so my real fear was that we would end up in foster care. In addition to constantly worrying about losing my mother, I worried that Stacy & I would be separated & we would never see each other again.

Of course, my mother was extremely comforting & extremely understanding. When I finally confided in her my fear, she promised that she wouldn’t leave her babies anytime soon (she always called us her babies, even when we were teens & no longer babies. That term of endearment never embarrassment me because she showed her love for us all the time). She said that when she died, she knew that we would be able to take care of ourselves and each other. She was honest and blunt in her statement that we may find a few people in our lives who may worry about our well-being, but that it would be our twin bond that we could always rely upon & that bond would be the only one that was truly unbreakable.

The other thing that I took from these conversations was that she would visit us in our dreams as often as she could. Many times when she isn’t visiting me, she goes to see Stacy.

At my lowest moments (especially in November, 2016), she came to me frequently. I’ve been able to tell how I finally became a published author. I’ve seen her hold my books in her hands & heard her read my poems, poems that she never lived to see me write.

Sometimes in the middle of the night, I see her standing over my bed. And while it might seem irrational, I’ve felt her touch me.

On Monday, July 18, 2016 when I interviewed Gordon Thomson for The Nerdy Girl Express, my mother visited me in my dreams & reminded me that she said back on Saturday, February 4, 1989 (when I briefly met Gordon at the Variety Club Telethon in Philadelphia) that I would get to talk to him again. My 23 year old self in February, 1989 was skeptical that would happen (I couldn’t envision any scenario at the time where I would have occasion to talk to him). For people who really know me they know that since 1982, Gordon Thomson has been a favorite of mine; in fact, he is my oldest living favorite actor.

I’ve gone for walks and I have seen a robin (my mother’s favorite bird) & I’m convinced that the robin is a sign from her. I’ve smelled familiar scents or been in stores where a Judy Garland tune will inexplicably be played over the loud speaker. Again, my mother & I shared a love for Judy Garland so I always take hearing Garland’s stirring vocals (when the music comes unexpectedly) as a sign that my mother is reaching out to me.

Visitation dreams, I would argue, are the tangible proof of how our dead loved continue to support us from beyond the grave.

I have my mother’s voice on a digital recorder. I’ve listened to that recording everyday since May 10, 2005. That’s how I begin my day. Through my mountains of anxiety & depression. Through the poems that I write for others (one of my joys in life). Through the many days when I prefer to be asleep rather than awake, my mother comes to me & tells me that she won’t let me go or fall.

#amwriting #poetry #thinkingofyou Never silence a writer’s voice, a poem for @RealJoeyAdams by Tracy Diane Miller

#amwriting #poetry #thinkingofyou Here is a new poem that I just wrote for Joey Adams :
#amwriting #poetry Never silence a writer’s voice, a poem for Joey Adams by Tracy Diane Miller

The writer
He watches the landscape of the country he loves sadly change before his eyes: colored in the dark hues of hatred, prejudice and mistrust, a world so painful to see.

The writer
He summons the words buried deep within his soul: his emotions dressed in truth, desperate to break free.

The writer
His voice is strong: For every person who wants to make him invisible, or silence his voice.

The writer
His mission is one of compassion;
Compassion has always been his choice.

The writer
He penned a script, a story that Hollywood in its
arrogance and self-absorbed temperament is afraid for the story to be told;
Where a middle aged woman leads the narrative, buoyed by her resiliency, Internity did unfold.

The writer
Never silence his voice: Instead, look towards his
authenticity, the genius of his words.

For in the truth of his heart,
This writer must be heard.

#amwriting #poetry Wrap a heart in the comfort of prayer, a poem for @DonnaY1legwondr by Tracy Diane Miller

#amwriting #poetry Wrap a heart in the comfort of prayer, a poem for @DonnaY1legwondr by Tracy Diane Miller

You asked for prayers, a plea I heard
So I send my prayers in a poetic word
To wrap a heart in prayer, I choose to believe
Is how strength is so conceived

Sometimes in our fear
In our despair
We lean on others
We know that they care

For during the most trying of times
For during the difficulty of days
Faith is our voice
Through the haze

To wrap a heart in prayer
Is all you ask
To unite under the umbrella of compassion
Is a worthy task

Fear lurks in the shadows
Fear knocks upon the door
Yet faith is ever present
That is what faith is for

Faith watches
Faith won’t allow you to fall
Faith will carry you
Faith answers your call

#amwriting #poetry I don’t regret my past, a poem for @DonnaY1legwondr by Tracy Diane Miller

#amwriting #poetry I don’t regret my past, a poem for @DonnaY1legwondr by Tracy Diane Miller
I don’t regret my past
Mistakes aren’t my foes
For each misstep that I have made
Has led me to this moment I know

I don’t regret my past
Despite any of my actions born from fear
For even at my lowest point
God protected me and He was always near

I don’t regret my past
Pain and sorrow didn’t defeat me
For faith is the blueprint of my destiny
To build the person that I came to be

I don’t regret my past
Today when despair is where others dwell
I listen with my heart and I share my journey
I desire to help others in their journeys as well

I don’t regret my past
Maybe it took years for me to understand
For struggle is a point in this destination of life
Yet faith offers the strongest hand

#amwriting #poetry Look at her, a poem for @sleepingkoala45 by Tracy Diane Miller

#amwriting #poetry Look at her, a poem for @sleepingkoala45 by Tracy Diane Miller

She drinks in the music, an elixir with its soothing strains
For the songs that belong to her memories, will quiet her intense pain.

She devours a slew of books, a librarian she used to be
For as a lover of words, creativity she always sees.

She champions equality, and condemns the voices of hate
For compassion and intelligence are her armor, these weapons will not wait.

Look at her, decency is her cause
For this world swallowed in the jaws of hate, society must pause.

Look at her, see this woman in your sight
For courage has no expiration date, she will never give up the fight.

Look at her, see this woman who is not defined by a life of pain
For despite the tears that she has shed, determination became hers to gain.