Tricia Schwaba Poetry

May You Continue

My wish for you is to claim witness to your own beauty
To continue to see yourself well beyond the filter of humanity
To nourish the subtle energy that flows through you
That sustains you
That transports you
That loves you
That is you

My wish is that you continue to offer yourself unfettered love
That you honor your practices of self care
The reverent practices of self sustenance
The practices that are kind allowing you to splash that kindness outward

My wish for you is that you take your long spine out into your world
That you continue to stand proudly root to crown in your gracefully aging body
To stand tall releasing the petulant kinks that inhibit pranic flow
That you ground like the pines deeply and securely
That you never topple despite the threatening storm
Being a balanced inspiration for she who is untethered

My wish for you is that you continue to honor your unique power
Gently bestowing it outward
Pouring it into the inevitable pockets of weakness you will open
And to continue to be the steady
Unwavering
Beauty-drenched soul you are

These are my wishes for you today
And for the rest of your days
 

Tricia Schwaba 8 28 2024
honoring the strong, northwoods women of the mat

Cold

It wasn’t a cool breeze like that on an evening in the Northwoods

But a fear- laden, icy attempt to freeze her own discomfort

She plays hide-and-seek with her bitchiness finding it in those

Convenient times when faced with reality of her past actions

I see her— she cowers at the thought of attempted healing

I know her— she shrinks at the thought of contrition

I’ve been there— that land of self pity

It is rocky, cold

No good can take seed and grow

Feigning comfort, she keeps herself wrapped

In a fluffy blanket of deception harboring her delusions

And only those that validate them

With her self-loathing she deceives

Not others as is her intention

Only herself

She is me before I soaked in the warmth of my flawed life

That now brims with love

Tricia Schwaba

An Ethereal Shout

Here I am standing— over 7 decades old
Wondering if I’ll clear all the hurdles
My pace has been steady up to this point 
And my dreams have yet to curdle

I know of others in this same class
That have fallen to their knees
Their hearts, their livers, or their wills give out
No longer able to appease

The terrain gets rocky at unexpected bends
Storms stir up after making tough amends
Must breathe into pain, stretch away from doubt
Finish the race with an ethereal shout

I know I’ll swirl in the freedom of knowing
Any nagging doubts were amiss
It was really about trusting my guts lead
And never shunning the bliss

The segments of my life well lived
Will travel well beyond me
I’ll climb onto the medal stand
As the Gold is laid upon me

Now I’m a free flying spirit,
No chains of humanity bind me
Will I move up with a cosmic thrust
Or will the next plane unwind me?

We’ll see

Tricia Schwaba, 2024

Where I'm From

I am from Chicago

The concrete bastion of the Midwest.

I am from Catholics

One whose faith withered one whose faith smothered.

I am from Sunday night political discussions

Hippies versus squares

I am from music

Ragtime, classical, rock’n’roll, opera

I am from limbs long tired and weary

Strong and persistent

I am from beer and marijuana 

Believing there are no obstacles. 

I am from doubt and hesitation 

Believing I can do nothing

I am from vegetarian creations 

And lamb cooking with mesquite. 

I am from softball, basketball

Golf, swimming & volleyball

Running bases, around the world

Bounce or fly and red light, green light.

I am from the clarity of the Northwood’s night sky

And the roots of the mighty pines

I am from reveling in the spring-fed waters

Of nature’s liquid healing

I am from red wine and potato chips

Cheese crisps, smoothies

I am from trampolines and dance floors

Back-flips and pirouettes

I am from the rhythm of the universe 

Tempting my lithe body into profound symbols

I am from love everlasting

& Eternal gratification.

Tricia Schwaba Poetry 

The Wisdom She Holds

Oh my God! My thighs they touch

How can one handle so much? 

The norm beloved, is space in between

One’s upper legs, you know what I mean.

This quest we’re on, this path never ends

The one that is dictated by rich white men.

They make the rules, create the solutions

The quick fix ones, offering no resolution.

But we buy and believe and believe and buy

Until we realize it’s all been a lie 

On that day seeds of freedom are planted

That’s the time that release is granted

Free from the grip of society’s norm

We travel with truth into the eye of the storm

To experience the peace that is blessedly bestowed

On the aging woman and the wisdom she holds.

Tricia Schwaba Poetry

I wrote this piece when I heard, not so long ago, that women (young or old apparently) are now being encouraged to be thin enough so that their thighs don’t touch. This bothered me as much as any of the other societal “beauty” standards that circulate throughout our society. We are all different, with different bodies, ideas and intentions. Let’s keep it real shall we?
Tricia

Feel It Don't Resist It

Feel it don’t resist it 

Travel through it unafraid

For it will call you, it will tempt you

You’ll find its strength, it doesn’t fade.

Feel it don’t resist it

Stand and gaze the face of fear

Just remember when it calls you

You are stronger, with it near. 

Feel it don’t resist it

Embrace it like its fashion

It’s here to teach, it’s here to probe

Inspire you, ignite your passion.

Feel it don’t resist it

Though the urge will come to flee

Feel it all, resist it not

For its blessing is peace & harmony.

Tricia Schwaba 2024

I Suppose

I suppose the voice has been with me since before my time on Earth.

And once I was conceived it guided the timing of my birth

Into the perfect circumstance for just that prime succession

Of events that would bring the lessons that would eliminate my obsessions.

I suppose that my mom and dad were chosen specifically for me

That the combining of their energies would offer exactly what I needed

To evolve into the adult that I have so uniquely become

To stand upon my mountaintop and beat my solitary drum.

 

I suppose that when I leave the Earth there will be a certain kind of heartache

& my energetic influence will be shifted to another time and place

Perhaps that voice will call, to remind me of what lives on

As I find an orbit in my new found sphere and new oceans to make waves upon.

Tricia Schwaba Poetry, from the archives

Time Is of the Essence-- Poetry by Tricia

art source— anon

Time is of the essence, what does that mean? 

Does it mean I’m running late? Need a change of scene?

Life whirled around me in my much younger years

Distracting me with chaos, calling in my fears.

In this present moment I feel free of the denial

That led me to nothing but shit stacked in a pile

True, time is of the essence but so is gratitude

Each day expressed, it shifts collective attitudes. 

Our essence is a jewel mined from deep within

Clear of ancestral patterns, it can tell us how it is

Crack the stubborn shell stretching limbs to divine 

We emerge from the dark of a weary, tired mind. 

Tricia Schwaba, from the archives

Time Is of the Essence-- Poetry by Tricia

art source— anon

Time is of the essence, what does that mean? 

Does it mean I’m running late? Need a change of scene?

Life whirled around me in my much younger years

Distracting me with chaos, calling in my fears.

In this present moment I feel free of the denial

That led me to nothing but shit stacked in a pile

True, time is of the essence but so is gratitude

Each day expressed, it shifts collective attitudes. 

Our essence is a jewel mined from deep within

Clear of ancestral patterns, it can tell us how it is

Crack the stubborn shell stretching limbs to divine 

We emerge from the dark of a weary, tired mind. 

Tricia Schwaba, from the archives

I Suppose-- A Poem of Gratitude

I suppose my voice has been with me since before my time on Earth.

And once I was conceived, guided the timing of my birth

For the perfect circumstances for that supreme succession,

Events bringing the lessons that could eliminate my obsessions.

I suppose that my parents were chosen specifically for me

The combining of their energies offering exactly what I’d need

To evolve into the adult that I have so uniquely become

To stand upon my mountain, beat my solitary drum.

 

I suppose when I leave the Earth there’ll be a certain sort of heartache

& my energetic influence will fly free to start the remake

Perhaps that voice will call, to remind me of what lives on

As I find an orbit, a new found sphere, another ocean to make waves upon.


2023-- A Mysterious Road

A brand new road turns up every year 

I travel with hopes of losing last year’s fear

The surroundings are familiar, though some landmarks have shifted

It feels some heavy burdens, at this turn, have been lifted

I travel with less baggage, feel lighter than before

I haven’t lost my longing, my desire to explore

The sun hits the pavement, in this moment I can’t see

That which lays before me is bathed in mystery. 

Poetry, Tricia Schwaba

Sketch, Elliott From

The Love In All Eyes

Hats and pearls and 2 beautiful girls
in the infancy of their promise
Time takes its toll but also bestows
a grace that it truly time-honored

Their crowns are strong, they were all along
their tresses were wild— like fire
They couldn’t be tamed, why should that be the aim?
It’s their wildness conducting the choir 

They’d met long before— it’s cosmic allure—
knowing something harmonious would rise
Truth, contemplation, no sticky stagnation
And savoring the love in all eyes

The pearls hung with care— little beads of prayer
round the bright blue voices they owned
Speaking their minds with strength redefined
surfing the vibes they belovedly honed

They’ve donned their hats— released hooks from the past
each using their hands to heal
From heart centered truth— each a hopeful recruit
on the mission towards divinity’s reveal

Tricia Schwaba 2022— Heartfelt thanks to Natalie Grace Craig for inspiring these words.

 

Mingling & What Not

Art Source: Ashley Percival

Went out last night— to a party.
Very brave of me, mingling and what not.
Talked with some, avoided others. 
Stares morphed into quick look-aways.
Snap judgments were tiny darts.
Damn, always feeling what others blessedly miss.
Too damn sensitive-- true, I am.
How dare they? They don’t know me.  
Shame on them. 
I’m fantastic.

Tricia Schwaba 2022

Bring Out Your Voice, From the archive.

art source: Anon

art source: Anon

Bring out your voice

We have no choice

We can manifest change

Rid the world of the deranged

Don’t be the one to cower

Take cover when it starts to shower

Be the one soaked to the bone

Whose stamina stands alone. 

The wind howls, the branches creak

This world it seems, is not for the meek

In times like these might’s in demand

No choice but for you to take a stand.

Tricia Schwaba, 2020

My Safe Pocket

art source: safespace.com

art source: safespace.com

I sit in my safe pocket of this ailing planet

Want to gain insight, take nothing for granted

I shiver at the notion that I may appear 

To be grasping at straws that aren’t really there.

This insistent urge prompts me to sustain

This practice that leaves me naked, in pain

The notion that for some I may seem trite

Is one I wrestle with in the middle of night.

Yet go on, I do, at the risk of revealing

How distant I am from the exquisite healing.

My scars are many and I pretend not to see

My forgiving reflection as it stares back at me.

Those times I was cruel, thought myself above

The truth clear now, too far from self love

God takes my heart and breaks it wide open

It’s contents spill out stiff and frozen

My pains and regrets so tender and raw.

With warmth of love & acceptance, they thaw.

Tricia Schwaba May 2020