LAUREN O. THYME
From the Depths of Thyme:
Poems of Life, Sex, & Transformation
FROM THE DEPTHS OF THYME is based on Lauren O. Thyme's diverse, challenging, and cosmic experiences throughout her long life. She is mystically and spiritually inclined, a deep thinker, with a hilarious sense of humor and a compassionate, loving nature.
"Poetry speaks for me when I cannot easily or thoroughly articulate what I’m feeling and experiencing. Thus my poetry emerges from the depths of me, where symbols, metaphors, and emotions surge and become words."
"My life journeys include being a psychic counselor, spiritual seeker, abused child, recovering adult, love relationships gained and lost, a political and ecological activist, philosopher, astrologer, author, and disabled person who miraculously healed after forty years, mother, grandmother, organic gardener, permaculture farmer, world traveler to sacred sites and senior citizen."
FROM THE DEPTHS OF THYME is divided into eight categories: Cosmic; Passion and love; Relationship challenges; 12 step issues; Humor and satire; Political commentary; Haiku; Death, grief and loss.
CATEGORIES
Cosmic
After a near-death experience at 5 years old, I became a psychic, visionary, healer, and an empath. These are my favorite writings. I feel as though I soar through a loving universe on wings of gold light when I reread them. ”Remembering” is about past lives. There’s a cosmic poem which, after debating with myself, decided to include in the relationship challenges section (“The healing at El Sanctuario de Chimayo”).
Passion and Love
I adore men, seek relationships with men, while I feel intense passion and love for a select few. I dedicate these poems to those special men, while using poetry to work through issues that arise. Like Addo Annie from the musical Oklahoma, “kissing is my favorite food.”
Relationship challenges
Relationship challenges are universal, sweet and melancholy. I grow, evolve and learn within relationships, particularly those with men. I’m also a practicing astrologer so I combine poetry with astrology to understand tough transitions.
12 Step issues
I have been a member of 12-step programs for over 30 years. I find that poetry is an outlet for my own and others’ grief, anger, and suffering, as well as to celebrate the success of 12-step programs.
Humor and Satire
My humor tends towards witty, pun-y, dark, and satirical. I published a few of these poems on Feh! A Journal of Odious Poetry, which gave me an outlet for my silliness.
Political commentary
I’ve been a political activist, humanist, and survivalist, writing my own political daily blog for a few years, and being a guest writer on Collapsenet.com. I save friends from listening to my ranting by writing political poems.
Haiku
I took a haiku class in 2013. In my opinion, haiku reduces poetry to a simple form. “Upon Arising” is another haiku, but I put it in the passion and love section instead.
Death, grief and loss
Being a Scorpio and a psychic, as well a lifelong member of Alanon (friends and family of alcoholics), ACA (adult children of alcoholics and dysfunctional families), and Survivors of Incest Anonymous, I have experienced grief and loss, abandonment, shame, and death (my own and others).
My poems are intense, sometimes painful to read, but writing them have helped me through numerous challenges. Maybe they will help you, too. You are not alone in your suffering.
IN THE BEGINNING
In the beginning before beginnings was the void.
Out of the void came the light.
The light was called love and it was good.
All things come from the light,
and will return to the light,
and can bask in the light.
Light is love, and love is all-illuminating.
But let us start upon the road to realizing WE are the light.
DANGEROUS WOMEN
Venus-fly-traps
Theda Bara
and Madonna
chewed up and swallowed
t-shirts,
bow ties,
and boxer shorts.
Sampson cowered baldly near Lake Titicaca.
Ignoring computer print-outs,
Lizzie Borden’s father
followed Cleopatra (in ruby sweat socks),
to Iceland.
“Feather duster or sledge hammer?”
she tittered glacially.
The North Pole erupted, granite to ashes.
“Burn, baby,” General Sherman said
to Joan of Arc (in her mink garter belt),
an obelisk smoldering in his jock strap.
His watering eyes saw the crystalline
Arc de Triomphe dissolve,
a tidal wave of corn meal mush.
Boy scouts danced two abreast
with female cobras
in Indianapolis.
Marc Antony warned them,
“Don’t French-kiss.”
But Doris Day,
wearing a gardenia smile,
stiletto high heels,
and marble evening gown
sang “Que sera, sera.”
Originally published in Feh! A Journal of Odious Poetry
SEEKING WARMTH
Alone, a tiny girl shivers under scanty blankets. December forming icicles on her spirit.
Curled into a fetal ball between frigid sheets,
thin skin bruised a delicate purple.
Ears straining to detect the creak of floor boards, warning approach of familiar hands.
She knows cruelty
behind the facade of family.
Legions of claustrophobic guards,
dolls and stuffed animals
crowd her from both sides,
yet impotent
against the night intruder.
Slits of radar eyes scan the shadows.
The pale glow of the streetlamp illuminates
the handle of her bedroom door,
turning, ever so quietly.
The sickening scent of Old Spice fills the room.
With pulse thudding unevenly,
the child wills herself to sleep.
Originally published in Soundings Magazine
RABBITS ARE FRAGILE
Mother, you remind me of a rabbit
I found once,
abandoned in our vegetable patch.
I cradled it in my hands.
It breathed,
so I fed it with an eyedropper.
In the morning, its body had stiffened,
so I buried it in a shoebox
beneath our tomatoes.
I talked to you last week, Mother.
You said you’d visit me soon.
Instead you recline in your new box.
Looking at your body,
I imagine the rise
and fall of your chest.
Your eyes are closed,
pretending to be napping.
I rub your hand to bring warmth to it.
I kiss your cheek,
but you’re stiff
and shyly unresponsive.
I close the lid and plant you under the grass.
Originally published in Negative Capability
SOMEWHERE
Somewhere
snowflakes
sunbathe.