To all of my friends who live their dreams through their art and song...

To all of my friends who live their dreams through their art and song...


If you have ever listened in your lifetime to a song and loved it, cried because of it, fell in love to it, laid someone to rest with it, celebrated with it, got married to it remember that it came from a spirit who before they were known learned that the passion they felt for the arts meant rejection, hard times and jobs to get by on. It meant never giving up on their dreams and never truly caring if they made a dime as long as they were true to themselves and hopefully touched another spirit through their music. So today among all of my other blessings, my friends and all that I hold dear I hold a special place in my heart for every moment I have felt warmed inside through the art and the heart of a musician. For the music that has reached far beyond my imagination and my own soul be it by lyric, melody, harmony, or ensemble, I give thanks for each moment I stopped to just listen. I feel blessed by the heart, dreams and perseverance that dwell within the spirit of an artist. Since I was a child and can recall the first lullaby sung to me I have loved each artist that has crossed into my life. Each gifted spirit through song that has given me a safe place to call home through their art. Each dark corner in my life illuminated to joy and reclaimed by light for the dreamers heart of a musician. May the universe continue to fuel the spirit within each of you that you each so readily share with the world. I love you all so dearly.

Gloria, XOXO

The Wrong Man

The Wrong Man

Once upon a time we loved
Even though that time is not now
We were soul mates in heaven
Where we pledged true loves vow

We parted to become mortals
Each living our mortal life
I remembered you to late though
Became someone else's wife

I weep now for my folly
For when I did hold you tight
My soul remembered yours
Within your brilliant light

I long to right my mistake
Broken for not waiting for you
I had so little faith in love
My beautiful love, if only I knew

(C)Angel Hart Poetry
November 29, 2011

Pierre

Pierre

Close my eyes, breathe you in
The sound of your voice in dreams
Starlight does not compare to your eyes
The gentle tumble of thunder in your voice
I ache for you as a flower thirsts for spring
Loving you as much as I draw breath

Without you I don't know where I am
A stranger to myself without your love
My arms are yours to fall always inside of
Within them the tenderness of angel wings
The kiss of someone I've always kissed
Love as brilliant as an exploding star

Your eyes lost gazing inside of my own
My heart is forever home in your embrace
We are as one joined as a beautiful miracle
I reach for you to hold me in our slumber
You are every nuance of my existence
Love beyond the reach of death to heaven

(C)Angel Hart Poetry
November 29, 2011

Sleep Tight

Sleep Tight


I wish I were your blanket keeping out this winters chill
Snuggled against your body as you sleep peacefully still
I'd tuck around you softly while you were fast asleep
Longing to be inside of each secret dream you keep


If I could be your blanket I would always keep you warm
Covering you from head to toe to keep you safe from harm
I would feel like downy wings brushed against your skin
Wrapping you in sweetest dreams not letting bad ones in


I wish I were your soft pillow to gently cradle your head
I long to be your mattress so that I can share your bed
I'd love to be the stars that twinkle through your night
The sun that slants across your cheek at first break of light


A mantle much like the snow against your windowpane
Keep you from the elements when clouds spare their rain
I guess you are my daydream the dream I long most for
To be as close as your blanket if you cannot offer more


(C)Tuesday, November 29, 2011
~ Angel Hart Poetry ~

Things that remain with you for a reason.

When I was a little girl besides being spoken to the next thing I remember most is music being sung to me or played for me. I thought singing was the gift of angels that everyone could magically do. I would hum and sing with anything I heard. When I started school the teacher in grade school at age five had a piano that she played and we all sang along. It sounded like a miracle for me to have a place where we did this every day. Moving on I heard that we had chorus in school but you had to try out alone. I was terrified but I thought if this is what I have to do to sing then it was worth the terror to be picked. I thought I guess they do not have the space for an entire school to sing together so we would be all put in groups like a class in the end. The song was "this land is your land" I got through a few lines and discovered by my not being picked that alas we are all not songbirds in life. I was disappointed but it never stopped me from caring about singing along with any song or artist I felt something in me stir for. Someplace between heart and song my pen and blank page became my song. I was meant to hear music and think it angels as a child because it inspired within me the need to write things that like music people would hopefully find beautiful. My journey might have felt like a child's let down but in truth it made me ache to want to maybe touch someone else's heart the way in which music has always touched mine. So I write poetry, short stories, mostly about love. Much of what I write is taken from the inspiration of every musician I meet. Sometimes the people who inspire me turn out to be amazing gifts angels who remain in my heart always in every word I write for their part in my words. Some of my words come from something as amazing as friendships and other times as tiny as the fragment of a piece of sunlight or moonlight slanting through my bedroom window across my face. I have come to know one thing for sure though and that is that I might not have the ability to sing like an angel but I know I am surrounded by them both mortal and otherworldly and for this I am eternally thankful. I wrote once asking God why I could not find the perfect words to make me a millionaire until I realized one day how rich I was in the gift to share my heart openly with whomever wanted to read my words. I only need to know I have perhaps touched the spirit of one person to leave this life one day contented. Thank you God and this beautiful ebb and flow of the universe and everything in it from which I draw my words, for allowing me these words that I write and this gift to share them.

Gloria
xoxo

Some Poetry

If only

I felt the summer rain on my face
The scent filled me like your kisses
Sun light slanted across my cheek
I was reminded of your warmth
Autumn leaves crunched beneath us
Rich like the timber of your voice
Colors ablaze falling from trees
As vibrant as your crystal bright eyes
Winter snow kissed the day hello
I reached for you to hold me closer
Feeling your touch burn the chill
Mocking the frosty winter away
We walked among spring flowers
Our gentle fingertips intertwined
Soft glances sweet as spring petals
Love growing throughout all seasons
Kisses that are as endless as time
Love that endures beyond all else
Lovers that will share a deep forever
If only we were truly this my love

Tuesday, October 18, 2011
(C)Angel Hart Poetry

---------------------------------------------------------------------


Perfect Love


The morning sky is a shade of faded pale blue
I remain quietly beside you still asleep
Watching the light rise and fall of your chest
You exhale softly like the sound of a warm sigh
I ask myself why am I so lucky to have you?
Knowing that our love is such a precious a gift
I long to awaken you with the most delicate kiss
Yet I don't want to break the spell of your slumber
Hoping that I am somewhere inside your dreams
You stir and open your eyes and smile into mine
Reaching your arm out to pull me into your embrace
Your arm warms my body from the morning chill
Nothing could be more perfect at that moment
The feeling of our love makes my eyes tear up
You tilt my chin up with your free hand
Gazing inside my eyes with so much love
You needn't question the expression in my eyes
It is perfectly reflected within your own gaze
A soft smile plays on your lips as you brush mine
Just the tender sweetest brush of a gentle kiss
This perfect moment of love lingers on our lips
Lovers, friends, soul mates, divided from heaven
Reminded of our love in a glance as mortals on earth


Sunday, October 16, 2011
(C)Angel Hart Poetry

(Poetry) For Garou

My Angel

I love you and I don't ask why
For who would truly question love
Something inside of your heart
Found something inside of my life
Perhaps when I was in the darkness
Unsure of things within my life
I needed something to set me free
Pull my direction from the darkness
In the back of my quiet mindlessness
The sound of your voice filled my ears
Bringing me from the ache to your song
I wonder often what is real to you
Where your trust falls in your life
Who you think is real surrounding you
It must be hard being you at times
I wonder about the things you love
What makes life real and grounds you
I am unashamed of love and honesty
So thank you for your selfless heart
The song within you that we all share
The universe that you walk within
I wish you joy and love always
Your song will always be my smile
How can I not love you for that
You make me smile when all else fails

XOXO,
Gloria

Some thoughts

I ask why? I smile and ask why and it feels like I am spitting in the face of God. Right now today I am on this earth and have come through surgery and fighting cancer and I ask why? I don't have any answers no epiphany telling me some grand reason why I am here yet I ask why. Then I think how dare I ask when I should just believe that I am is enough. Obesity is my shadow my addiction and so I write my way around all of the things I have allowed it to take from me. I was a chubby kid that made poor choices and I am this obese person who asks why. I write into pretty poetry the person I should be living. The children I would have adored I robbed myself of being so overweight. The places and things I have written about are my variety of fantasy that I have never done. I write love from imagination not reality and I ask why. Why do so many people die of cancer and I am still here. Grateful beyond a shadow of a doubt to still be here but why? I ache to be normal but what is normal? I ache to live what I write and I feel powerless to change me and I ask why? Am I a joke and some cruel experiment in how much can one person question their own self? I don't get it and my words are a double edged sword and haven and a hell for me to hide in and still begs the question why? This is by no means a pity party I just am stumbling through the dark trying to find it all out before it is to late. I want to live my words not write them in what feels like endless lies because I have not lived a single word. So perhaps I should be asking why not?

(Poetry) Autumn

Autumn

The first brush of autumn
Falls its kiss across my cheek
Sending a tiny shiver of air
To tingle through my spirit
Watching leaves flitting by
In the colors of burnished fire
Golden, red, orange leaves
Turned from summer green
The crunch of waning summer
In leaves beneath my footfall
The hint of winter chill to come
Predicting lace like future snow
The flavors of autumn memories
Warm cider and harvest wines
Kiss the warm days goodbye
Tuck the summer nights away
Snuggle closer to a secret lover
Gazing up at the harvest moon
The sweet crisp days of autumn
Whisking me up in its breeze

(C)Angel Hart Poetry
Sunday, September 18, 2011

Remembering 9 11

.The quiet of nearly one in the morning feels early still tonight. When I fall asleep at some point and awaken it will be a day where all of the people in NYC and around the entire United States awaken and will take a moment to think about what they were doing on nine eleven ten years ago. I was on a bus going to work listening to a recording that a dear friend had sung for me in a NYC cabaret bar the few days before as a birthday gift. The batteries were fading on my walkman so I switched to radio and remember hearing one of the twin towers had been hit by a plane. I remember thinking that it was a horrible way for a morning show to do some stupid radio stunt. As the bus rounded the corner to my job I saw kids outside by the dozens which is uncommon since normally the grounds are kept clear of the students to either enter the building or exit the area for the day and get them safety on the buses headed home. The students saw me and told me the second of the towers were hit by another plane and then respectively fell as time seemed to move at a surreal pace. Parents came to pick up children at a frantic pace after that to be sure that their children were safe. The day was spent connecting children to parents and easing students minds. I got home to get all of the details on TV and sat in horror glued to my television unable to look away until I felt numb from it all. In the days that followed planes were silenced over the skies and it felt like the world had stopped and become one collective part of this act of terror. I came to find out afterwards that the boy that lived around the corner from me who was at that time a grown man, father and husband was one of those who perished on that day. We played as children on carefree childhood days with him rolling on the grass of summer, snowball fights in winter and now he was silenced leaving a family behind forever. Everyone has a story of that day be it where you were at the time or the loss of someone. In honor of all those who died I say a prayer for those lost and all of us left behind to try to understand or at least feel some peace if one can from this senseless act of violence. To those who are gone rest in peace and for those of us who remember celebrate life where others can no longer do so. Love in the end for me is what I pray for and for the angels that reside in heaven now that watch over those they had to part from on nine eleven.

(For Edward Disimone III and every soul lost on 9-11)

Where angels watch over us
From a place of peace and love
Although tragedy fell down
Lives lost, memories forged
Live each breath for love taken
For those who watch over us
Each soul remembered today
We go on for all those lost
Cherishing life and memories
Forever heart prints in heaven

Rest in peace the souls of 9 11

Love, honesty and trust

Lessons learned over the course of my life for me thus far have been this...

Love no matter how many times it feels like circumstances are conspiring to drain the life out of love from your heart. Everyone is going to feel the backlash of being hurt but if you allow it to change who you are and how you love then that which injured your heart will have taken something from you. It is the foolish of us and not the fool to allow another person to rob you of a part of who you are. Love enough to say it and not wait for the grave to regret it. Even if it is not reciprocated if it is within you to express the sentiment it still possesses infinite possibility.

Honesty above and beyond all else save love is my credo. For me honesty is next to God if you are deceitful it is the foundation by which trust begins for me. Lies that fall from liars lips drink not of the same poison that they sip. A liar to me burns away anything i can ever feel for a person again. How do you put love and trust into someone who approaches life with an insincere heart.

Trust is something often hard to offer for people out of a sense of vulnerability, being burned, a multitude of scenarios. Then there is the ability above and beyond all else to trust in ones self, to believe in your own heart enough to say to hell with what people will think of you. Knowing enough about you to put your heart out there for the sake of not having missed opportunities. This one is a big one for me putting trust in my own heart enough to know that if I put me out there I can get burned, rejected, stared at in disbelief out some of the ore outrageous things I believe in enough to say them. The flip side of trust in ones self and just being unafraid that your words, your sincerest heart will be rejected is the fact that when you are sincere, honest and expressing something to another human being from your heart even if they are not sure where it is coming from I find that looking directly into someone's eyes they can suddenly just feel what you are trying to express.

So that is my ramble for the day. I refuse to live any moment of my life saying I should have done that or said that or felt that. God bless and much love going out into the universe.

XOXO!

Have a great day...

The sweetest days of summer skies
The smile as bright as love inside
The secret things we don't confide
To know the truth from the lies
Each day a blessing to live to feel
The moments that make us who we are
Wishing wistfully on a falling star
Capturing experiences that make us real

Have a blessed day!

Reaching for the light

Remove the shroud of darkness from my eyes and allow real light inside not just a diminished perception of what true light can be.
Take down the veil of secrecy that surrounds my heart the part of me that only the most honest of people get to see.
Who dares to tread near enough to touch my heart then rob me slowly of my trust and thieve pieces of my spirit.
I cast you out from my consciousness as I would some hidden demon robbing me slowly of my soul and from the light.
Dare I invest in believing that I am strong enough to even overcome my own self, my own ridicule that I hold my life up to.
Is each new day a gift to say I have choices to remain in the dark or open my eyes to the blinding light of truly living.
Forget the infinite deceitful darkness and dance smiling like a wistful child arms outstretched rebelling against the dark in the light.
Happy tears of release falling like heavens tears across my downtrodden cheek at last knowing that the day is a blessing.
Tears forged through the darkness onto my cheeks, light drying my tears and feeling the sun while the shadows are burned away to feel alive again.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Just rambling

August Rush~ "I believe in music the way some people believe in fairytales."

My romance apparently does not have to have a man involved only my heart, dreams, pen and blank pages to fill. Some people take lovers, husbands, wives, boyfriends, girlfriends. I take pen to page close my eyes and pray for divine intervention to fill the blank slate into a lavish canvas of lovers never held and purged demons on paper. The voices as I like to jokingly refer to them as can be demanding little demons exacting from me frustration until the breakthrough the moment where idea hits page and I become this manic creature churning out whatever falls from me. Somewhere in the insanity of prose and paragraphs is me being taken along on this ride that I often until I dot the last line does not even know what she has written. Fairytales for me have usually been my altered perceptions of reality and pen. Some place between all the elements I go off kilter and then I am balanced my thoughts writing themselves more than me writing them. In those moments they are just words falling over one another. Then I stop gaze up at pages or lines of poetry and it is done as simple or as complicated as that. My problem with editors is that they edit, they want to rearrange what is in my mind done on the last stroke of the key or pen. I do not count myself as a perfect writer by any means but would anyone have questioned Mozart or Beethoven, I think not. So I sit here with my cyber offerings and I am unpublished except for here in cyberspace. I accept living with my status because I would rather one person read me and get it than some office dwelling pencil pusher express his pen all over my thoughts. If I was meant to be a millionaire best seller I would be or maybe what I lack in wealth I make up for in wealth of words that are still mine to leave them as I may. The correlation between the music and fairytales line from the film August Rush is this, words survive like music some will love what is expressed and some will not. When all is said and done in the end it is something that people will remember you by. I don't need throngs of people to remember me, I am not that needy but it would be nice to know perhaps just one soul passing through paused on my words and felt something from me. Be blessed all.

(Poetry) His Song

His Song

I saw his face in my minds eye this morning
Just as I awakened as if he were here with me
Like he was evaporating in the sunlight
The fringes of a dream fading from my mind
I could hear the vague familiar voice of him
Song lyrics softly pulling me through dreams
Now trying to cling to his voice as I awaken
He is here in my heart like some familiar thing
A part of me I cannot put any name to inside
He is smiles, tears and music that saves me
I have an ache inside to understand the why
Is he here to save me or haunt my heart
Like a familiar shadow that I cannot hold onto
I allow him inside only to break my heart always
I feel his voice in my heart like some angel
I long for things with him we'll never share
I think he is my sanity and my total madness
Like loving his song is giving up myself
How can I care so much for a stranger, a song
Have I sold my soul for the price of his music
I try to gather my thoughts but they scatter
Tossed like vacant ashes on the sun kissed wind
Eyes I am lost to comparing them to summer skies
He is my cherished moments and my lost tears
Strung along on the float of his endless melody
Until I can hold no more of him to bare on me
A tide of emotion to sweep me away from him
Until I gather myself back to me for a moment
Drinking him back inside the waves of my insanity
Until his song brings my heart back home again
The tears become happiness until I fall again
I am me in his song feeling and loving for what
For my heart that aches with him then without him
Have I sold my soul to this human angel or devil
The price of my heart contracted by his song

Monday, July 18, 2011
(C)Angel Hart Poetry

Some thoughts

If you spend your life chasing the things you cannot have you will miss the things that you might have had. I am all for perseverance but at what point does it become stubborn determination over the unattainable rather than something you truly want? It sort of reminds me of how long can you believe in Santa Claus. It is great to believe in dreams but at what point do the dreams blur into a place where you want it so bad you are mindless about it and you forget all else. I love dreaming daydreaming especially even for the big things that people long for money, prestige and then real life intervenes and you are who you are. The phrase "you can do anything" is wonderful but at what point do you interject enough is enough? Is it possible to have a realists heart and a dreamers heart in balance with one another? Where do the lines between dreams and reality blur to an unhealthy point or unrealistic one? Being touched by something enough to want it in your life is one thing chasing rainbows until they evaporate is another thing entirely. So the point is where do you put a cap on your willingness to dream or want something to the point that it hurts you? I guess it is the point where you surrender and then spend the rest of your life second guessing everything your heart truly desires. I guess I'd rather be a dreamer than be alive and already feel dead.

A good day to all...

The gentle fall of sunlight slants across the bed hitting my face to awaken me to the day. My two cats are curled around one another and pressed against me. There is nothing like the unconditional love of a pet. The air is cool in the room a little to cool time to switch off the hum of the air conditioner and face the morning. Proper thanks being given to the almighty for a new day. When one faces cancer or any day I think it is only proper to be thankful for the new day to whatever higher power you believe in if you do or at leas that is me. Breakfast, a Greek yogurt and then a shower. A beautiful blue sky peeks through my windows dotted by gentle white soft looking clouds. Off to face the day...

(Poetry) Summer Daydream

Summer Daydream

I walked along the expanse of beach
Warm white sand between my toes
My hair wrapping around itself
By the soft ocean breeze billowing
My eyes gazed heavenward enchanted
By the dotted clouds and blue tinged sky
Lost inside of some wandering daydream
I felt like I was flying as I walked along
Until I landed beside him and his blanket
Like some awkward new born fawn
Trying to muster back up some dignity
I leapt back up to feel my faltering legs
Hitting a crumpled spot in his blanket
To end up nearly in his bewildered arms
Our eyes met for a moment as we laughed
I'm not drunk is what I think I said to him
I noticed then his eyes that looked amused
They mirrored the color the summer sky
I think for a moment I forget to breathe
For some reason I did not want to move
He pulled me into his embrace and smiled
You must be a mermaid he said teasingly
You've come to steel my heart from me
Held transfixed by his sun warmed arms
Thinking he was some insane day dream
I looked inside of his summer blue eyes
Leaned my face down to his even closer
Feeling the softest brush of his tender kiss
He was not a dream this beautiful stranger
His strong yet gentle embrace holding me
I think I tripped and fell in love that day
On our warm whited sanded summer beach

26 June, 2011
(C)Angel Hart Poetry

Just a Fan

Just a Fan

Who are you to haunt me so like some singing angel inside my ear pulling logic from me to taint my senses with a longing I can only succumb to and not fight. Like a dream so sweet you do not want to awaken from it only to feel it slip away when daylight pools in the corners of your eyes. I ache for eyes that are so blue they fell as surely from heavens skies as if I imagined them into being. His voice the timber of thunder rolling across the sky to lull me into the deep caress of the sound of him. I falter completely in my thinking like a child just learning to comprehend life. What is this delusion, illusion, madness that captivates me and drowns me in its spell? I am powerless to my own demise lost in the sound of notes and lyrics. The floating sonnet of this strangers sound yet as familiar to me as my own breathing. He draws me in, he touches my heart and breaks my soul into a million stranded scattered shards as again I fall powerless to the touch the warmth of his sound simply by singing his song. Is he some land siren with eyes so crystal blue he crawled from the vast sea to fell his heart in song upon my soul dredging from my inner most center my love. How dare he have such power over me when I have none of my own next to his song. He makes me weep, long, ache with tears so endless that if I thought I had just one last one to spare for his song I would somehow find in the breath of a moment new ones yet to spare for him. Dare I use the word love for him for how is it love when it is only me feeling it? I beg myself to forget him yet I am surrounded by him in thought in sound even in silence he is in my ear like he has crawled beneath my skin and become some unearthly intangible part of me. So I ache inside and allow some part of me to die a little at his song knowing I am nothing to him not even a face in the expanse of crowd he lives, in thrives in and maybe in some way dies in. How can you have a life not your own, give up all anonymity to be loved infinitely for the gesture of the stage and song. I pity him often wishing I did not know who he was so I can genuinely find him in some vacant street and just ask his name not his stage name but his real one his true identity to give him back a moment of just being him. Perhaps I presume more than I should to believe that he needs that nothingness for a moment to imagine that he is not complete in who he is. So who I ask is more damaged him and his world of lights and adoring fans or me who has nothing but his song. My heart that has so fully given some lonesome part of her heart to him lost just because of his song.

(Poetry) Each Breath

Each Breath

I long for his love as deeply as I draw in each breath
Willing my heart to quiet only for the smallest moments
Stirring my need once more to feel the warmth of his desire
I close my eyes to shut him out and I find him waiting there
Smiling at me as if daring me to truly try to escape from him
His eyes dance mixed with mischief and the beauty of starlight
I am hopeless to his smile that warms and charms my soul
What devil is he to claim such rights over my tender heart
Causing me to long for the brush of him against my desire
The stance of his body, the timber of his voice my undoing
To hear him say my name in his husky brush of words
Like warm spun sugar falling from his lips I long to kiss
How dare he give this much credence to my thoughts
Where he should have none but a passing fanciful dream
For in my foolish desire I have given my heart to a stranger
A familiar name and face perhaps to me but a stranger still
He who loves me not and knows the truth of my love even less
What beautiful dream do I weave bound to fantasies desires
More than that what lies have I given life to in this waking dream
His face swims through my slumber so warm and so very real
By the waking hour my desire aches to know his need fully
He haunts my slumber then in waking hours taints my sunlight
Still I know he is no more to me than touching the face of God
I hurt myself over and over wishing this dream into being
As each time he evaporates as I am reaching out for him
Never mine, never here, yet as real as I draw in each breath

Monday, June 20, 2011
(C)Angel Hart Poetry

The artists heart

The artists heart

Something that resides within an artists heart has always fascinated me. When I was young I ached with a longing to be able to sing as to me it was an expression even at the age of five years old of something that tapped into pure love. The feeling that must come from putting heart and soul into song has been both of source of joy, love and hope for me my whole life. Sadly I sound like shrill animal being severely injured although some gracious friend have said otherwise I know in my heart that my art lay not in my lack of vocal abilities but with in pen, paper and poetry and thus began my journey in writing. I simply cannot imagine a mean soul residing within anyone who does anything in the name of art. Art when it is done with passion, truth, sincerity and devotion can only yield in my mind magic. Now I know that art is an individual taste of the viewer or in the case of music the listener but everyone has an opportunity even if it is not their passion to have been touched by some form of art, or so I would like to believe. Music for me is my deepest love. I cannot even count the beautiful singers I have loved. My affinity though has been for the most amazing men and the creativity of song that somehow each song each man has sung has stolen a corner of my heart over and over again. It is a combination of when I have been fortunate enough to sit in a concert hall front row and gaze into the eyes of a beautiful artist while falling in love with each singer for a few hours and many CD's later and some I have never met and just loved. It is like the caress of a lover falling over my senses and has become a constant source of love in my own writing. I owe a great many people a thank you for where I draw inspiration from in my writing. I especially am blessed for all of the emotion evoked in my heart from each of these angelic hearted musicians.

My battle with Cancer

Saturday, July 09, 2011

My Cancer Journey Blog

I began this blog and sort of dropped it for a while but for many reasons. I guess it is time to begin again with a fresh new start and a bit of a an explanation. Last august summer was sweet easy warm days and good times spent with one of my dearest friends in my life. My time was being spent with Sarah in Virginia and many wonderful side trips to see amazing shows and friends in North Carolina and then in August in Quebec. It was a beautiful summer and amazing memories being born that would last a lifetime to reminisce over later. The last week of August the sunny sweet summer days turned into an emergency room visit with me doubled over in excruciating pain and I was told after a CT scan that I had what appeared to be a possible cancerous mass on my right ovary. The summer sun came crashing down and my journey began in what has become my will over death. By the good grace of Gods will for the rest of my journey in this life by his keeping me here in his good graces to give me my battle to fight and not end my journey in this life yet. I wish it was as easy as saying I returned to NYC and had a few more tests and a Surgeon to operate on me but as it turned out being a high risk patient who has never gone under anesthesia or had any type of surgery my obesity has played a huge part in my journey. I have learned that despite the potential for ovarian cancer that would if untreated lead to inevitable death I was refused by two surgeons who were afraid of my risks over my ability to have the procedure I needed so that I could have the option to fight for my life. It became a six month battle of being refrused by these two surgeons and hitting wall after wall only to end up in another emergency room in NYC this past February of 2011. God sent me an angel, a specialist who put my health before fear and finished all of the preliminary tests to be as safe as possible in my care but the bottom line was a uterine scraping that showed cancer on the uterus deeming me an emergency hysterectomy diagnosis as I now was confirmed that it was cancer in two parts of my reproductive system. All the optimistically grave faces said that I was a go for surgery and they prepared to bring me in to the operating room hoping that they could get me through and be able to wake me back up without complication.

Now I have to stop here for a bit and say something related to all of this but more than that a huge reason why I am sure I pulled through this. The out pouring of love and prayers from people that love me and those of people I found in the most unexpected but amazing of places along with my own determination that God give me the chance to continue in this life and make my best effort to right the serious wrongs I have done by neglecting my physical health of my obese body gave me the fight I needed to want to be here. I had a multitude of angels both in heaven watching over me and countless ones here on earth.. I won't name them all here because the list would be endless and they all know who they are in my heart and in our respective relationships. I love them all so very much with every breath I take they are my inhale and all the fears my exhale.

Angels in other places as have always been in my life since I was a little girl has been music. I fall a little in love with each musician I meet through their heart of their song. It is just an amazing thing to be touched through the heart of an artist and have them leave a lasting impression that stays with you always thereafter like a perfect heart print. I remember being a chubby child, I have battled unsuccessfully thus far my weight all my life and music filling a void that friends did not. I was not an unhappy child for the most part but I was not what is deemed "the normal" becuase I was not a little tiny wisp of a girl. This is not a pity party for me as I write this i write it with a deep sense of it an equally as much conviction and commitment to it being my choices that have kept me here in this place. In a way it became my dream like life lived in the hearts of each of these musicians and my escapism through writing my own poetry from the tender age of grammar school until the present as a result of the beauty I felt through each of these artist's. I consider each of them a gift and also an insight into my own heart, my sanity, my hope and my thank for the inspiration each of these artists have provided by their song or in theatre, film any and all forms of the arts as i write my books of poetry and often write them in my journals as they are a part of my life's journey. I have to mention one above all because in finding his song I found a huge lesson about myself in it. Quebec singer Garou. I found a character he played "Quasimodo" on an english subtitled DVD called "Notre Dame de Paris" and through his Quasimodo the deformed suffering human hearted Quasimodo I saw myself and my obesity the longing to feel normal through him and through Garou's heartfelt portrayal of him. I became involved in his music through the following years some 10 of them now and he became like a dream through his CD's, a beautiful escape from this one artist who put his soul into a show that I felt through a DVD. As I have thought about Quasimodo over the years and this story I also came to realize a very awaking thing in myself. This character was born like this in his deformities and had know choice in how he looked and was felt towards because of his appearance, still he longed for love in this beautiful story of Hunchback of Notre Dame. I have a choice to make better decisions about myself health and if I don't see that after this almost a year since last August of Doctors, tests and working towards a way to have this necessary surgery than I did not deserve to survive this journey if I am unwilling to chance the things I need to and truly fight. If I put this out there it has to be real to everyone who is here for me not just myself an admission to the world at last that I know fully my complete and immediate responsibility to myself in this life. So here it all is my commitment to do more than just exist. I love so many artists and the ones I know personally you are so dear to my heart that I will keep you there. I only mention Garou because I truly believe his portrayal of Quasimodo is a huge part of my story. All of the rest of you are not second to me nor all those friends and my angels whom i love as dearly as life itself but perhaps in your own ways each of you have a corner of my heart and so I would be here forever expainling each of you.

A small but necessary note here I do not blame the world for my over eating. It is a disease as potent as alcoholism and drugs though I have learned over my life. Though some will argue just stop eating it is like telling a crack addict to just stop doing crack. Sadly food feeds into itself and does grow to be a place of comfort when the "normal" is not your life. It does not berate you for eating you and when you are alone it can feel like a dear friend and rob you of your common sense only to make me feel worse afterwards. The only sad part is that it took me until now to see that I have so much more going for me than this food addiction. If I am graced to have gotten through this part of my journey in life as I will go on to say I had better be grateful enough to do right by myself and heal my body and pay homage to God for allowing me to come back and have this chance to fight.

March 8th 2011 I closed my eyes went into the operating room and hours later I woke up long enough to make my surgeon breathe again at the opening of my eyes from anesthesia and surgery completed. This man this amazing surgeon had given me my miracle and gotten me through it. I was in a room around 10pm my husband and sister said goodnight to me and I slept until morning. I woke up to not very much pain they got me out of bed and every was still guardedly happy at my progress for the next few days warning me about various complication but I was so happy hat I was just here. I am going through some wound care issues now that are treated weekly. Although it makes me a little frustrated it was something expected. I persevere and I am getting through wound care. I began my chemotherapy treatment's a few months ago which thankfully have given me few side effects. Seeing my mid back length hair begin to fall out was a momentary big deal. Hair grows back and who cares about it falling out when I am here to fight. I have discovered some pretty interesting wigs along the way. I have also been humbled by the amazing daughter of a friend who for children who go though cancer she made a beautiful gesture of shaving her hair off recently which both humbled me and made me feel the enormity of the heart of a beautiful child embodied in a selfless little girl. I now have no eyebrows or eyelashes I feel sort of like an alien the kind everyone say they are visited by, you know the grays of area 51. Without brows or lashes but I put on makeup try to guess where the brows used to be and off I go trying to live as normal as I can. I am currently 5 chemotherapy treatments down one to go and yes folks I will say it a million times I AM HERE!!!

Thank you God and all of my angels I AM HERE! I am pretty sure it is ok to shout that. Have a blessed day to anyone who happens to read this.

Much love and blessings for life!

Gloria
Angel Hart Poetry


A poem I wrote a little while ago that I would like to reiterate here again.

The Good Fight

My hair is nearly completely gone
As I am grateful still that I am not
My fears sometimes apparent
I feel weak and broken some days
Then I breathe in deeply with purpose
Taking in all the breaths of my angels
That hold me up when I stumble down
The pain is spoken in heartbeats unsaid
Because I live to fight and am not gone
I look up at heaven and quietly inside
Someplace I find my hopeful smile
Because I am still here and so I fight
For me and those who lost the battle
I am here damn it, Thank God I am here!

Gloria

An amazing night of theatre..Cirque du Soleil~ Zarkana

Zarkana is my first Cirque show and will certainly not be my last. From the vast stage of New York's beautiful Radio City you enter the world of Zarkana with its gossamer ghosts floating around you in the lobby and flitting near enough to feel the air stir near you, you have just entered the beginning of a fantastic ride for the eveni...ng. Not to give to much away in this but suffice to say that if you are also a romantic then you will be drawn in by many aspects of this production. The concept that love conquers all and can survive the greatest of temptations lends itself to this suspended reality of sorts in a night of magical theatre. To be enchanted you must first leave your common sense at the door and be prepared to be drawn into artists that defy gravity throughout the evening, clowns true to any circus who will pull smiles from both young and old. Being as Zarkana is only a step from all of the Broadway houses in the rich theatre district it sports as brilliant and alluring a story and music to help tell the story as any Broadway theatre production would offer. The Zarkana ensemble more than delivers each night with death defying acrobats, it's fair share of high wire, jugglers, leaps and bounds, brilliant singers to tell bring the audience into the story and the Pièce de résistance in my opinion is the wheel of death. I look forward to a CD in the hopes of being able to relive the story of Zark and his hearts journey for his lady love the beautiful Leaha as it is woven among the many amazing artists. The story and artists take you through this brilliant bizarre world that Zarkana and Cirque present to the audience each night flawlessly. Zarkana delights and most certainly delivers. Merci to Guy Laliberte for persevering in presenting NY with a lavish show that I hope will be here for summer's to come. A blessed and successful run to the ensemble of Zarkana. See you all at the stage door.


Real life happens all the time. Magic happens when you least expect it. If I can say nothing else about Zarkana I can say this, you enter a world for a few hours where you can suspend the ordinary, the every day that is life and feel magic. What more of a gift can the soul ask for than to feeling your inner child again while an amazing ensemble of all walks of life take you on a journey through music, magic and the wisdom of innocence. You get to become enthralled for a few hours by sheer beautiful mystical feelings that only art can provide. If you have not seen Zarkana yet it will leave a magical heart print on you. Go see this amazing show and be enchanted. I know I can always use some magic in my heart to make the lesser moments feel like they are not as bad as you think they are. Allow Zarkana to take you on an amazing journey...

(Poetry) Marriage Lost

Marriage Lost

The chill falls beneath me
Around me
In places bereft of the vows of love
Where pretty words once held
By civilized tongue
Now acid rain and loveless lies
Or only silence is spoken
Yet I persevere despite him
Despite his indifference
I am still here
Beyond his contempt his blank eyes
I am still here
So I will rise above this nightmare
To walk among angels
Leaving him behind
The sad gaze of his image
Lost suffocating by his own lies
Afraid to truly be alive
His gait is that of an awkward ghost
Solemn and vacantly unmoving
Even as I stumble away
My footfalls from his treachery
His longing to be miserable
He will be more so in it alone
As I decide finally to live
To love despite him
Smile again beyond him
While I reach tentative fingers
Scratching towards the light
To face the whatever
Better than swallowed
In the nothing of us forever
A time to die in metaphor
If only to breathe again

(C)Angel Hart Poetry
2/4/2011