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Well-Rehearsed

Jeanna’ Mead
2 33 p.m. .6.6 20

2

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Sex and Coffee

One afternoon
Sitting outside
Drinking coffee
They looked at each other
Half joking
Half serious

“All we have in common
Is sex and coffee.”

It was true

She wanted deep conversation
He liked to keep it light

They talked about the weather, the bills, the house, the dogs and the kids

That was about all

Skimming the surfaces

Riding the waves

Just keeping it simple

Like sex and coffee

He knew how she took her coffee

Strong and dark with a little stevia and cream

He liked his made with honey instead

And that was about it

She wanted more

That he did

A little romance

Surprises and all that jazz

Date nights

Dressed up and taken out

Lingerie and lace

He thought that was too much trouble

Rather get it done and over

So it never took all that long

Just long enough to mess things up

About as long as it took

To brew another pot of coffee

Make one more cup

One for him to take away and one for her to sip

While she’s standing at the bathroom counter

Straight out of the shower

Soaking wet
Feet on the towel

Letting her body drip dry

Taking her own sweet time

Putting on her makeup

While he rushed right by

On to the next thing on his list

After sex and coffee

That was then
And this is now

He’s gone most all the time

Home only every forty nights

She’s gotten used to doing without

Half of what she had

Now she makes her own pot of coffee

Sleeps on her side of the bed
Doesn’t even mess up the rest

She reads books and writes stories

To fill up the void

She drinks cup after cup

While standing in the mirror

Putting on her makeup

They talk almost every day

About the same things

The weather, the bills, the house, the dogs and the kids

And yesterday she said,

“All we had in common was coffee and sex so I couldn’t help myself.”

And even that seemed too long to him

He liked to keep it short and simple

Like sex and coffee.


☕👣♥️ Jeanna’ Mead
924a.m. 6.7.20

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Another Women’s Words

I am not old….she said
I am rare

I am the standing ovation
At the end of the play

I am the retrospective
Of my life as Art

I am the hours
Connected like dots
Into good sense

I am the fullness
Of existing

You think I am waiting to die
But I am waiting to be found

I am a treasure
I am a map

And these wrinkles are
Imprints of my journey

Ask me anything

Samantha Reynolds, poet..

I read these words and I cried at the beauty and the simplicity and the truth.

I thought of the women I know that have stories I would like to know

I wonder if they wish to be asked… To be found.. to be seen… To be known

As more than just “the old lady that sits on the far left pew”

Or the one that whispers to herself as she plants seeds of flowers

I wonder if those ladies I know wish I would ask them anything

I wonder if they would answer

Would I be surprised? Would they?

What about me? Would I tell stories and answer questions

If I was asked anything?

Or would I gaze away and say,

“you shouldn’t ask questions like that”

While thinking to myself of what I know

And who I am

Underneath it all

I am not getting old, not really

I am becoming my self

My body caresses my soul

My soul caresses my body

I find the treasures in the moments and the questions and the words of another woman

Jeanna’ Mead, poet, too

Beautiful picture.
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Presents

Sunday was Mother’s day. It was also my birthday.

When I was born on Mother’s day, my mom and my Mema declared that I was their “mother’s day present” and from that day forward, no other gift I could give them mattered as much because I made them who they wanted to be- a mom and a Mema.

I used to think it was silly the way they would write on my birthday cards, “to our Mother’s day present” and how they would tell everyone I was “extra special delivery” because I was born on such an important day.

I was spoiled rotten by both of them. I knew it and they knew it, too.

I really do get it now.

I understand how they felt about me in ways I couldn’t understand when I was younger.

I am who they were…now.

I am a mom and a Jamma. My “presents” don’t come in packages tied with bows anymore.

My favorite gifts have names and they call me names.

They made me who I am and who I want to be.

Sunday afternoon, I stood on my porch as my little blonde Charli ran as fast as she could and jumped into my arms, both of us squeezing tight after 3 months apart due to the Covid 19 outbreak and the issuing Shelter In Place.

That’s the best present. That’s the gift I was born for

I was born on Mother’s day to become a daughter that was known and loved unconditionally so I could become a mom and Jamma that knows and loves unconditionally, too, just like I was taught to do.

There’s a quote by Anne LaMont that came to mind as I was surrounded by my children and grandchildren.

“I think this is how we are supposed to be… Present and in awe.”

I was present and in awe as I watched my sons discuss politics.

I was present and in awe as I picked out yellow lantana, red salvia and purple verbana with my husband.

I was present and in awe as I read the words on the shirt my daughter picked for me.

I was present and in awe of every bite of my shortcake covered with berries and cream.

I was present and in awe of the laughter I heard coming from everyone gathered in my home.

I was present and in awe of the people that reached out to me with messages and cards and gifts that showed I was known and loved.

I was present and in awe of how much I’m becoming like the women that raised me.

Mother’s day falls on my birthday,or maybe it’s the other way around, every four years, and every time I realize more and more what a gift it is to be present and in awe of what I receive and what I give.

👣♥️ Jeanna’ Mead

May 18 2020. 8 49 a.m

http://www.jeannasoul.com

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Life.

It’s a rare thing

To get lucky enough

To have a someone

That you can lean on

Trust with your life

When it’s unraveling

Lead you back

When you find yourself

Standing on the ragged edge

Knows the words to say

To make you believe

When you begin to doubt your place

It’s hard to let anyone know

The in-and- out of your livihood

Mistakes you’ve made

The bottom line that collapsed

The sleepless nights when the struggle was real

The kind of someone that can pull things together

See real clear

Words and design that can stand the test of time

Pull together what is needed

Just in the nick of time

There’s something about someone

That can cut straight to the heart of the matter

Cover your bases

Help you get keep up appearance

With a single look in the eye

Understands your feelings

Backs up your lies

When you feel the need yo pretend for others sake

That knows your truth

And speaks it back to you

It’s quite extraordinary to have anything that can last

In times like this when so much changes

It’s a different kind of love

A kind of friendship that evolves

Lasts a lifetime

No matter what

Life, livihoods, lies, luck and love change

👣♥️ Jeanna’ Mead

12 31 pm. May 3 2020.

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Sleepless Nights

Here’s another one

Sleepless nights

She can’t get warm

She’s feeling cold

In piles of blankets

Covered head to toe

Wearing black lace and a white tank

Mango oil on worn out legs

She should be sleeping

But she isn’t

Those that know her

Understand she’s fighting

Demons from the past

With all the strength she has

She dreams of a fight she lost long ago

But this time

She whispers

Though no one can hear

“I will win”

“I will win”

“I will win”

Until finally

In her dream

She stands

Wide awake

Covered with everything

But shame

And she knows

She did whatever it took

So she could win

Jeanna’ Mead

7 35 a.m. 4.30.20

http://www.rockwallbodyandsoulmassage.com

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Stranger

There’s been a stranger in her bed

She had no idea

Thought she knew him well

After so many nights

But it all came tumbling down

Like a house of cards

She was shaken beyond words

Living a nightmare

That she couldn’t wake up from

She went over every conversation

Wondering how she missed the signs

Wondering when he crossed the line

How long it had been

Since he began to wear a mask

Hide behind a million excuses

She had no idea when he changed

Tried so hard to backtrack

To see what she might have missed

When did he become a stranger

A monster of a man

She shuddered to think of what must have gone thru his head

All those nights when he wouldn’t touch her

Made her wonder what was wrong

Doubt the way time had changed her

Placed the blame where it didn’t belong

She screamed and she collapsed

In such despair

That she had ever loved a stranger

The way she had

It was more than she ever imagined she could handle

But somehow she found out

That she was a helluva a woman

Stronger than the stranger

She would pack up and take off

Leave the past where it belonged

He was the stranger

She had no way to know

But she wasn’t about to pay the price

Any more

He had left his marks

Scars upon her soul

But that was the last time

The stranger would lay down beside her

Jeanna’ Mead

7 32 a.m. April 28,2020

http://www.jeannasoul.com

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Mango On Her

It’s been so long

Longer than she ever imagined

So tonight she laid back

Placed lavender on her neck

Felt the heat soak in

Shut her eyes

Dreamed of another time

When her hands did what they pleased

Each touch went with ease

So naturally

Like the air she breathed

She missed it so

With all that she was

She couldn’t give

To anyone else

So she did what she could

Poured the mango oil onto her skin

Rubbed it in

Made her legs smooth as silk

Reached up as high as she could

Missed a few spots

Here and there

But she didn’t care

She smelled like herself

Coconut oil

Jasmine and chocolate

With tinges of mango

If you got close enough

To kiss her

But only then

Because she believed

Scent was part of the magic

Making it hard to think straight

As she laid back

And let Sleep lead the dance

That she knew she needed

As well as she knew

How good the mango oil felt on her

👣♥️ Jeanna’ Mead

12 49 a.m. April 21 2020

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Still Alive

There’s an old tree

Given to me

Many years ago

Bought for one dollar in a pretty pot

That was worth more

I planted it with high hopes

Not knowing what it was to become

It grew and spread

It’s branches to the sky

The roots became the resting place

For some of our beloves

I took that dollar tree for granted

Till the days I noticed

It wasn’t sprouting any new leaves

The branches seemed to break with ease

As if it had lost all of it’s strength

For a fleeting moment

I thought of taking the old chainsaw and cutting it down

Until I sat outside, wrapped up in covers

Drinking coffee

Listening to the birds

Hearing the Spirit

Speak softly to me

Reminding me, tenderly

There’s beauty and purpose left in this tree

There’s always more that meets the eye

Look for the treasures

Find the light

Make something out of nothing

Just like you were taught

So I decided, right then and there

This old dollar tree was still alive

Branches reach up to the sky

Singing a song

“Every blessing You pour out

I’ll turn back into praise”

I saw the chance

Without the leaves

It became a place to hang

Things that made my soul dance within my body

Pieces that would be discarded or forgotten

Take on a new life

With beauty and purpose

A few bells to ring

A yellow tire swing

Metal pitcher

Heart made from a hanger

Baubles and beads that had been collecting dust

Found themselves hanging up, gracing the branches

This old dollar tree

Still has lessons for me

There’s beauty and purpose in everything

I can hear the voice

Of the woman that raised me

“Don’t you dare give up on anything, all it needs is love.”

Beauty and purpose

Is still alive

Jeanna’ Mead

April 20 2020

7 12 a.m

http://www.jesnnasoul.com

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The Moon

She looked straight up at the moon
Felt like the moon was watching her
This time around
Saw how she kept parts of herself hidden
Just like the moon
How sometimes she seemed to shine
Brighter than ever
Just like the moon
And other times,
She disappeared
Into the clouds
And the night
Invisible unless someone knew
What to use and how to find
Her and the moon💙👣

Jeanna’ Mead

April 10 2020

My friend sent me this after reading The Moon …I had to edit and add it… He’s on my wavelength, that City Boy knows this Country Girl…

.Why I Love the Moon 🌙https://youtu.be/eO4Yb6YosRI