Purple Dream Resident's Homepage	Purple Dream

S.M. Galletta http://galletta.purpledream.com

Thank you for stopping by. These poem are a reflection of my truest soul. I debate constantly with myself over what to reveal about my world, ever fearful that someone will take me the wrong way. But my writing muse always wins. For how can I discover who I am if I am not willing to write my life down. "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent" - Eleanor Roosevelt

Home 07/29/04 Home is a place     where wild green parrots sway in the breeze     as gentle winds stir the trees Home is a duplex     where pharoh ants trek along the walls     in the closet holding my old baby dolls Home is a sanctuary     where I cry in frustration     as I deal with bill inflation Home is an island     where silver waters and mangroves collide     as the sun and moon move across the sky Home is a poxy pebble deck     a multicolor patchwork stone quilt     a diamond in the rough     a broken heartache     a healed spirit     a laugh     the dust My home     a jail of happiness     with no window, roof, or bars Home is where my heart is

The Seaturtle's Prophecy 09/14/04 I know where the birds go     so deep within the mangroves     among the protruding, twisted arms     their safe haven from the storm     knowing the warm wind that blows     better than VIPIR, Bay News 9, or Paul         Delegatto. The Royal Palms, Australian Pines, and the     mighty Banyan trees all go     every which a way     all day     the gusty breath of Frances     over the soul of all we know Watching in wide wonder     waiting for the end     even as we ponder     what wilder winds would bring We feel the power of the storm in this concrete place. Transister radio drawing pictures     forecasting doom     the anticipation     of our annihilation     so consequential     the warnings just bounce around the         room. As I read the instructions     on the antique kerosene lantern     brain connecting deep     to our past beginnings     to that place where the seaturtles all go     that place we forget we know This is what I heard "No nesting in Florida this year", the lead     turtle exclaimed, too many storms will come too many will be named take cover and wait for this season to roar     past, your little precious eggs need to last." The birds, the trees, the turtles all know     that until further notice,         THE OCEAN IS CLOSED!

Preparing For The Hurricane 10/04/04 09/11/04 4:20 a.m. How does one prepare to loose their home       and everything they own       everything they know       for the third time? Ivan could take all that is mine. Red Bull at 2:00 a.m. get to Walmart before the crowd tomorrow sleep tomorrow Tears reflecting my town       rightside up       then       upside down       as Elton John sings about a candle in the       wind. Even as I feel all that could be       distant images       of a downed princess       the grand wedding       Wills and Harry       all the photographs       flashes of Diana set my sadness free To wander the streets       when others sleep       our last night       of false       normalcy. On this sacred American Day       I wait for the hurricane       to come our way       even the governor       is asking us to pray. And all I can do       is sit in front of the tube       waiting for       the 5:00 a.m. update       hoping the cone of inclusion       will move. Relatives tuning into our state       begging us to leave       as if I could get       the sea out of me       by testing my fate. How can we prepare       to stare at a FEMA issued tent wall       without an air conditioner       without our only car? I want to hold out my hand       and say,       "STOP, go out to sea!"       but this mighty hurricane       won't possible listen to me. So I'll pack up this place       put it in another space       and wait       for this worst nightmare to begin       knowing deep inside       we will survive this destructive wind       again. To Ivan bearing down on the West Coast of Florida.

Body Naked 12/04/04 As I sit here     body naked     warmed flesh     absorbing the day A peace around me     is created     by the flat Florida land     the white time crusted sand     the gentle flight     of many ospreys I've come to this place searching for a space to be alone Walking across the shallow sand     stingray and horseshoe crabs     scurrying the ground     a Great Blue Heron's track leading     to an opening in the distant mangroves I've always known the way     but the fear     of distance     kept me away until this day Silver waters of the bay     moving out to sea     inside I know     the tide will really wait     for me to cross     this connected piece of land to nowhere     and return safely in the end Walking under the Australian pine trees feeling the ever present seabreeze gazing at the blue sky without modern obstructions Walking for miles and miles backpack weighted down bikini clad skin exposed sneakers following no road All alone The habitat isn't pure I cried with dismay     soapsuds line the wetlands     from condos along the far off highway     motorboats echo across the harbor     oil slicks marring the water     airplanes roar above     bringing more people, more, more, more     I relieve myself on a surveyors stake Then, I am beyond these things the anger at what has been lost among all but what time forgot I am alone Decisions made walk until the tide returns sandy footprints hurricane blown land fragments of fossils and 10,000 year old bones welcoming me home welk conch protruding dusted off on my thigh a drinking cup emerges ancient peoples roamed here And I feel myself among them Skin stripped bare laying flat in the sand letting every inch of my skin reflect the sky There is no shame in my undressed state     no thoughts about mirrors or morals     or societal expectations     prude bound convictions     just me, my body naked     for me to see My body is beautiful     bronzed by nature     scarred by time     a shell of my soul     the projection of what I know     a salty silver water drop     licking at the sand Within my own I found my home alone and the tide waited for me to return

I Haven't Forgotten S.M. Galletta I haven't forgotten I am a feminist     that my bones     are the dust under stomping horses     my stomach     the forced feedings     my soul     the pain, the misery from the beatings     even though I may seem so quiet. I haven't forgotten those women     the nameless, the unknown     the heroines     throughout Herstory     before Mystory     and Theirstory is ever known Do I dare call them by name?     Margarat Sanger, I beseech you now     Alice Walker     Eve Ensler     Li Xiaojiang, I beseech you     Susan B. Anthony     Harriet Beecher Stowe     Sojourner Truth, I beseech you Keep your spirits among us your words in in our heads for we are still fighting hard to keep pink relative to experience never lowering the bar. I sit in a classroom with children I have the power to shape their minds Give me the ability to keep the hope alive     beyond the plastic Barbie dolls     fake, superficial TV personalities     kindergardeners in makeup and on diets     10 year olds worried about their size. To those who've gone on before me     the women who've tread the road to equality     pushed past the ceilings of glass     and died for our cause I remember you To those who walk beside me     in Afganistan, Iraq, India, the Sudan     in America, in Florida, in Bradenton     my V-day cast, my college president, my dad I remember you To those who are to come I will work until I am done The voice of womanism will live on My classroom will be completely free     for my students to be     who they want to be I will remember my purpose always.

Chatter Of Him 01/03/05 Chatter from the bar       silent football games       hollaring, laughing, cheering       Wendy and her Soulshakers       on a 30 minute break Enjoying a Saturday night on the Island       just Daddy and me       as we have done       for 20 some odd years Sometimes I forget to       remember him in my writings       as if he were       apart of me too much       to seperate our time       in inks of black and blue We sailed boats together when I was a child       sang songs in bars he worked       chatted about history       he was a sometime attorney       who loved rare meat He IS all I knew       as an eight year old       before I went up there to her       he didn't know what to do       when I begged to come home       my foot in an abused child's shoes       and I took 5 years to let him know Why did that place have to happen to me Why couldn't I of lived normally Why did it take so long to turn thirteen That summer       my mind was already gone       peace was made with the land       I thought       so I didn't leave a light on I don't regret those tumultuous years       in that Mississippi sharecropper space       because I proved I could survive       and I never let the memories die       of a little girl begging her daddy to sing       her favorite song       in some Florida island bar       as the chatter of the crowd       pushed him along I love you Daddy Thank you for saving me

Welcome 2005 01/06/05 I am waiting for the "ball" to drop       as so many millions do       those standing in Times Square       closer to their neighbor than ever       thinking of the year in review As if we could capsulate       our existence       in blocks of time       sublime in thought       that we humans are in control       but we will never know       our actual place       in this space       we call home There are so many events       worth remembering       I daresay       I could list them all I could start with Janet Jackson       and the Superbowl halftime show       I never saw       though the effects of the blanket       censorship       are now felt by us all The dying soldiers in Iraq       are always on my mind       their lives on the line       for freedom       for people       who can't wait to kill them       we passed 1300 gone this Fall I don't tune in to the       trials and tribulations       the documentations       of Hollywood's own       though I know more       of the oldtimers have passed this year       their spirits shall always live on I can honor the Republican       Ronald Reagan       even though I don't       sing the same song The election depressed me again       but my writing has progressed       I didn't get to China this summer       and suffered months of pneumonia       but my husbands and mine       love grew just the same I could recount the hurricanes       but they seem so       small in comparison       to the wave       that took 160K       and counting       human souls lost       without recognition       of their name Life will never be the same I met my little brother Walter again       and lost him       my 17 year old sister       is pregnant       again       and the 15 year old       might be in school       but STILL       14 and a half years later       there is nothing I can do       my thoughts haunt me still I couldn't ask for anything more       from 2004       I am a teacher at last       my bones have       soaked in my own       and made sure       my dreams would last I've taken the best from all of my lives and welcome wholeheartedly, 2005!

A True Southerner 01/18/05 I am tired of seeing "battleflags" on       beltbuckles       with Dixie spelt' out in big bold chrome            letters acrost' the top This is not my South, I do declare! Among the burnt out dreams       re-let seams       hand-me-downs       of folks done past       are the beliefs       that seem       to counter the idea       that Freedom is meant to last Lawsy, lawsy, this is not my South I feel the bloodtorn land       and muddy waters       blending earth and sky       my birthright       the prejudices       people's penury       the hopelessness       my history There are sharecropper       roots planting my feet       to this land       and a debutante's hand       grasping at diamond       rings       that were me all along I reckon, my South is my bones I am the Martin Luther King streets in the 'hoods       the black iron fences       protecting upper class homes I am the poverty stricken faces       wandering alone       searching always I am the men and women       tortured in their churches and homes I am a child of Southern and Northern soldiers       both sides of the battle I own Only a free South could be my home To the lights snuffed out way too soon during the Movement. May they always shine brighter than those hateful beltbuckles

Potter's Mountain 01/23/05 Up on Potter's Mountain I am sheltered from the view        of incepid little towns        dotting the landscape I come here to be among that which I am not A hawk dancing in and out of the whiteness        feathers kissing the sun But I in my tattered frock        sit dully        behind the trees        waiting for my own day Ancient peoples roam this place        becoming the horizon        singing the bird songs        among the shattered screams of silence Music fills my head        never free        to float beyond the leaves of desire and circumstance Am I still me Up on Potter's Mountain I think of so many different things To Lisa, and the Virginia Mountains.

Little Sister 03/24/05 When you were just a little girl sitting on my knee I'd tell you 'bout the world outside and how important you would be. I changed your dirty diapers and fed you when you cried I taught you how to walk with my waiting arms open wide. Though the years are many and my face a dim memory I am still here waiting for you to come to me. Now you've all grown up and your dreams are in front of you. You are strong enough to be on your own and do what you have to do. The world is full of dirt and grime yet your beauty is so real Move past the pitfalls and the pain, the echoes of your screams you hear. Though time has tested our love our bond is more tightly tied and I am still here waiting for you with my arms open wide.