Tag Archives: monday night poetry

The Battle Born State and Liberation of this Soul – Monday Night Poetry

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August 1 2023

@mondaynightpoetrynv last night. 💜💜💜

Prompt was Battle Born. I wrote this new poem and read an oldie from 2017 – Liberation of this Soul

The Battle Born state welcomed me into her loving embrace in 2006
I cracked, I fell apart, I broke into a million pieces
My body essence oozing into the soil, the rock, the sagebrush
My life fluids draining into Lake Tahoe and Washoe Lake
My veins melding with and becoming one with her roots

For 13 years I marinated within this Battle Born cocoon,
being pounded over and over by life
Marinated more, pounded more
Struggling financially
Living the day to day grind of advocating
For my special needs daughter, and her younger sibling
Until finally I was at peace within her embrace

She infused me with strength, sustenance, and knowing
Every walk taken, with the landscape, the breeze, the very air
Infusing me with life, populating my heart and mind with
The thoughts and words to write Words of Alchemy
to make decisions,
In fact, to carry on with this life.

In 2019 I emerged from the Battle Born cocoon into the cocoon of my home
Knowing I was to allow my physical body to rest, fall apart, and be healed.
With finally connecting to others who would finish what she could not.

And the day arrived in May of 2023 when the body became mostly healed
And it was time to emerge from the cocoon of my home,
Ready to create
Ready to live
Ready to continue appreciation
for this beautiful, stunning place
That I call home
Northern Nevada.

Photos by @sidewayseightprojects

Liberation of this Soul

She was tired.
Tired of trying to figure it out.

Tired of trying to make things work.
Tired of manipulating circumstances
to make things work.
Tired of trying to control situations to make things work.

Tired of living in confusion.
Tired of the suffering
created by way of her thoughts.

Tired of the chains that
bound her to the suffering.
Tired of dragging those
invisible chains through life.

Tired of not loving herself.
Tired of not being loved.
Tired of the responsibility of it all.

Tired of questioning her every decision.
Tired of hiding the Truth from herself.
Tired of running from her own self.

Tired of the darkness within.
Tired of the pull of the ego.

What she craved.
What she desperately needed.
Was … FREEDOM.

In desperation she dropped to her knees.
Crying to the all knowing,

Take this tired body,
Take this tired mind,
Take this confusion,
Take this suffering,

She let it all go.
She released it to the divine.

She asked for liberation
from her self-induced suffering.

Liberate this soul.
Liberate this heart.

Allow this heart to open.
Allow this heart to
receive and know unconditional love.
Allow this mind to know Clarity.

Liberation to the graceful
place of Knowing Freedom.
Liberation to the Place
of letting go.

Letting Go
And saying Yes
to Life. – ©Camilla Downs

The Number 18 – Monday Night Poetry

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July 25 2023

Monday Night Poetry last night was so deeply moving. I am captivated and inspired by these beautiful people. I hugged, I laughed, I smiled, and I cried. That’s some amazing poetry (and people) that does that to you.

Since July is Pride Disability Month, I read the 2019 poem I wrote to Lillian when she turned 18 years old. Then I read some of Lillian’s poetry and I read a poem written by our 18p- friend, Hannah Belsterling from Oregon, titled Different Type of Heroes.

The Number 18

Today is your 18th Birthday.
Lillian Paige Darnell is 18 years old today.

I can still see you in my mind’s eye
as a wee 4 pound sweetheart
as I wondered and dreamed
about your journey to adulthood.

Wow! Did we take giant
twists and turns,
paths less traveled.

Little did I know as I snuggled
you close, sang to you (sorry about that),
and read, read, read to you;
that the number 18 would come
to be a powerful number for you,
for us, in more ways than we could imagine.

When you were 3 years old,
As we sat eating dinner,
As the phone rang,
As the pediatrician delivered
news – 18p-, she said,
missing the short arm of
chromosome 18, she said –
that rendered me speechless,
with tears sliding down my face
into a dinner I could no longer eat.

Little did I know at the time
that this was not the horrible
news I assumed it to be.

Oh, yes. Life changing, for sure.
Yet, not in the way my mind
led me to believe in those first few weeks.

There is no way on this Earth
I could have foreseen how
life changing this would be for me.

Life changing for me so as to
let you be who you came here to be.
For that to happen unconditionally
and organically, I had much learning to do.

Not just learning about genetics,
chromosomes, DNA,
and the effects of deletions of genes.
That was the small stuff compared to
the enormity of the path that lie ahead.

As you step into adulthood on this day
It is my deepest hope that
I have made more decisions for
the highest good, than not.

It is my deepest hope that the times when I have
remembered to share and be unconditional love
stand out and far outweigh the times when
I have not been at my best.

May the wishes you wish come true.
May the dreams you dream become reality.
May the sunshine light your way ever more.
May the moon teach you its secrets.
May the birdsong always sing sweet melodies to your heart.

May you step into adulthood
with iridescent rose gold fairy
wings of the highest and brightest
as you take flight on the next
greatest adventure of your life.

I love you
I honor you
I respect you
I am grateful for all that you
have taught and continue to teach me.

You are You
And You Are Perfect!

Love,
Camilla
Mom – ©Camilla Downs

Group photo & photos of poets by: @mondaynightpoetrynv

Poetry: Say My Name – Monday Night Poetry

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July 18 2023

Monday Night Poetry was amazing last night. From the time I arrived to the time I stepped in my door at home, it was a perfect night. The entire night felt freeing. 🖤💋🖤

The theme was, “Speaking Our Names”

What I shared, written yesterday afternoon:

Say My Name

Ca-mil-la
Kamala
Camelia
Camelot
Caramello

Or as my sharecropper grandmother pronounced it, Camiller, ah Camiller.

Let me count the ways my name has been mis-pronounced.

The many times a man has asked are you sure?
After I pronounced my own name?
What the fuck? You’re asking me if I’m pronouncing my name correctly?

It was 1969 as my parents
Sat watching the Johnny Carson show.

A stunning Swedish actress, popular in the 60’s and 70’s
Was a guest.

Her name, Camilla Sparv.

My parents must have liked the name
As that’s the name they chose for me.

Hearing my name as a child, and as a teen,
Brought shame and embarrassment.
You see, it was never pronounced correctly,
Causing me to have to speak up, letting teachers, adults
Know how to pronounce it.
This brought attention to me, and I did not want attention.

Up until recently,
When I saw my name
I would only see a whisper of myself.
Not really knowing who this person was.

However, these days when I see my name.
I see all that I have accomplished
I see tenacity, strength
I see a parent who has raised two amazing & authentic humans.

I see childhood and adult trauma that is being undone
Spun into a gold thread of power
A thread I use to weave
This new life I am creating
That shines and attracts those who have
Complimentary threads.

As I got older, I grew to adore my name.
It was different, unlike anyone else’s name.
And I loved that.

With each passing year, I grow and blossom
Into this unique name.
With each passing year, I love it even more.
I love that in my desire to stand out, not conform, and be my unique, neurospicy, weird, pisces self, it is the strong and stable root that supports me and bears the fruit of these desires.

Most of my life I have wanted to fade into the crowd.

This is no longer the case.

My name tastes like honeysuckle,
Smells like magnolia
Feels like silk

I see my name as a blessing, a gift
A springboard to the chaos and magic that is ME.
Thank you to my mom and dad for giving me this name.

Camilla. It’s pronounced Camilla. Like Pamela, but with a C.

Say my name, say my name, say my name.

Camilla, Camilla, Camilla
July 2023 Camilla Downs

Poetry: The Garden of My Mind

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July 4 2023

Last night was so much fun! The poetry workshop before the event was powerful! Thanks to Brennan Defrisco and his lovely partner. For my non-local friends, every July is designated as Artown by Reno. A full month of celebrating local artists. 🎉🎉🎉

Last night’s theme was “in my garden”. Here’s the poem I shared.

The Garden of My Mind

Wildflowers sprouting from every fold and groove
Each wildflower overflowing with ideas

Sharp
Heavy
Red Hot
Booming

At times the heartache doesn’t want to leave
Clinging to the familiar

The Garden of My Mind

Calm
Chaotic
Mysterious, Wild, Confused
Difficult to contain excitement
Loving those dopamine hits
Lit by listening to good music

Working on this
Oh, wait, I need to finish this
Wait, I need to start that
Wait, I need to run that errand
Okay. Working on this again
Crap! What’s that burning smell?
Damn. Forgot I put toast in the toaster. Every freakin’ time!

Saying nasty things to myself
Saying sweet, good things to myself

In the past, never knowing who this person
Named Camilla really is
The Garden of My Mind
The Neurodivergent Mind
The Traumatized Mind
In the present, learning who this person
Named Camilla really is

It’s beautiful
It’s fickle
Blowing with the winds of the present moment

Healing from childhood trauma
Memories of something horrible
Done to her as a young child
Which led to teen and adult trauma
Becoming what was later coined as
#Metoo

Learning at an early age
To dissociate when horrible things
Were happening to the body

A mind now processing
Healing from such horrid happenings.

A mind experiencing freedom
Like never before
Freedom like when she was a teen, a young adult
Minus the drugs and alcohol

A wilding of the mind
Learning how to be kind to herself
Learning how to let the mind
And she, be the shiny, weird, quirky, wild, chaotic
Human she came here to be.

The Garden of My Mind
A magical, colorful, place of sticky ideas
Some wild, some amazing, some nonsensical
Yet always lovely and fragrant.

The heartache becoming
Lighter
Softer
Cooler
Letting go

It’s never too late to take
A stroll, stay a while, and weed

The garden of our minds.
2023 Camilla Downs

Thoughts While Waiting for a Powerful Monday Night Poetry

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June 18 2023

Waiting. And waiting and waiting for Lillian.
While the wind blows through the open windows,
through my hair,
through my thoughts. ❤️💋❤️

June 20 2023

Spoken poetry last night was incredible. Powerful, moving, inspiring, heartbreaking, and full of love. ❤️🖤💚

Monday Night Poetry With the Healing Vibes of Nature

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June 13 2023

It was music and poetry last night. Good times! 🖤

June 16 2023

Began the walk this morning deep in the blues. Walks, nature, and music are my go to when I’m processing sadness and hurt. I fell asleep last night to liquid love leaking from my eyes, and woke the same. I could really use a hug. Human touch from kindred spirits is something I have missed all these years.

I’m feeling better after the walk, getting sweaty, feeling the breeze against my skin, looking at the gorgeous sky, flowers, and trees, listening to some sad music, listening to some uplifting music.

I know it will return until I’m finished processing it, along with trying not to be harsh with myself. Like the ocean with her waves it seems to hit the hardest at night. Is that how it is for anyone else? Or is that just me?

Off to shower and then taking Thomas clothes shopping. Wish us luck! I have no sense of style other than black. Is it black? Yes, okay. It’s halfway to purchased. Just need to see how it looks on me. 🤣💋🖤💋🤣