I'd Like To Say

Midnight Snack

2012-01-25T04:24:00.000-08:00

Some people are magic,
slight of hand imperceptible,
gives the illusion of fair play,
I fall for that line each time.

He says the grass is purple,

I stare at the green carpet,
And when I look into his eyes,
I see he is truth.

I’m under a spell, cast by golden eyes.

The smile holds me transfixed, I only
see his artist lips, one crooked tooth,
I long to hear his voice. I’m hypnotized.

His hands mesmerize,
hold me in their grasp.
I want him to take me
in strong, muscular arms.

He’s magic, I know what the apple is

but I take a bite anyway.

Open

2012-01-24T16:13:00.000-08:00

I drive south in the dusky early morning light.
The heavens show up as swirls of pink and gray,
a marble I view from inside

On my left a bright, white string of car lights

waking me from my automatic drive
to see the swirling beauty of this
one of a kind morning.

Worn and Tired

2012-01-20T19:26:00.000-08:00

Don’t want to think any more

So much pull and shove
Between here and there
Don’t make me think any more.

My Nail Tech

2012-01-20T05:03:00.000-08:00

Communcation free flowing.
Laughter and tears, too.
She holds my hand as
she polishes my nails.
I love her,
she is my daughter.

Blog Hop

2012-01-18T04:51:00.000-08:00

Aroma of coffee rises,
mingles with scent of vanilla
from candle that glows nearby.
Red robe light and feather soft
on my shoulders and neck.
I blog hop to read poetry online.

Gifting

2012-01-17T15:29:00.000-08:00

Hello Kitty Pink Hot Chocolate
in pink and red wrapper.
I get it for my sister-in-law
who loves Hello Kitty.
I can see her smile as she opens it.
Such an inexpensive gift
has already brought abundant joy.

Togetherness, Sweet and Telling

2012-01-16T10:00:00.000-08:00

Daughter shares something with me at the movie.
Nothing big, but I would not have known otherwise.
The sharing wouldn’t take place but for this movie,
the ease of our laughter, and the discovery that we
eat popcorn the same way, one fluffy kernel at a time.

Choices

2012-01-14T18:16:00.000-08:00

Every day choices, every minute decisions
that will affect my life and other’s.

I am overwhelmed with choices. What to wear,

what to write, whether to sell or hold out.

Do I believe in God, in organized religion,

which church should I go to if I do?

Does it matter which club I belong to

or start? Do I say yes, or stand firm with a no.

Do we go on vacation, invest our money, or give

more to our charity of choice?

Has my mom reached the point she can’t live

on her own, or do I trust when she says she’s OK.

I ponder, consider, complain, and stress out.

Did I make the right choices today?

They Like Me. They Really, Really Like me.

2012-01-14T15:44:00.000-08:00

An offer on our house.

Must mean someone else

likes it, likes us. I’m a writer

I get rejections. Strange

how I see life as a series

of rejections or acceptance.

Winter's Eve

2012-01-13T19:48:00.000-08:00

Pink brushed flannel with soft white lace,
Sherpa lined slippers and my favorite
robe, well-worn and ankle length.
Hot cocoa from the Keurig in my red cup.
Husband at his computer, brown mug,
steamy with the same brew. Lexi Dawg
snores softly at my feet, click-clack
computer keys is the music we hear.

Today

2012-01-12T19:34:00.000-08:00

Today I read her facebook post

He died today, her son died
He was getting better she thought.
The shades come down, the tears fall.

I Want To Go Home

2012-01-12T05:06:00.000-08:00

I want to go home I said at the funeral. I don't know why.

I said it at home with husband at my side. You are home,

he said over and over. I didn't believe him. I've said the same
thing for over ten years.I really do want to go home. I

remember how warm, how full, how happy and carefree
my home was. This is our final move he tells me now.

This is home till we die.
I don't believe him.

Glide and Glisten

2012-01-10T16:33:00.000-08:00

She glides across the sidewalk and Bahia.
I can’t see her tiny fur legs.
All five pounds of her pulls my weight forward,
as she hovers over the smells of the day.

I can’t deny her though I glisten.

Her tail is a helicopter blade.
Her joy keeps me straight and steady,
there’s no turning back for the gate.

I begin to smell the flowers, see the lights.

I know this is good for us both. We exercise,
experience enjoyment, I accept the gift of it
now that we’re through.

Pattern

2012-01-10T14:41:00.000-08:00

Treadmill registers three miles as I read.
Now I can bathe, go on with my day,
until night when I lie down,book in hand.
I'm in a pattern and wonder,
can I still read sitting down?

Number 2 Pencil

2012-01-08T13:24:00.000-08:00

Shavings curl around in the cup
of a sharpener as it whirrs and grinds.
The scent of wood and lead throws me.
I’m ten again and next in line.

Beige

2012-01-07T17:28:00.000-08:00

The house is beige walls, white crown molding,
auburn wood floors, teddybear light carpet,
clear glass fixtures, marbled tile with copper
medallions. Splashes of color come later
when we move in.

Gray Fog in A Sunshine World

2012-01-06T15:10:00.000-08:00

A whiny January day,
cold, ungiving, unfeeling.
The sun comes up - I find a cave.
January and February
are hibernating months.

He calls me again, his voice

a new pitch of buttery-yellow
over my gray fog. Honey, he says,
I’m so excited about this house.
I look forward to us being there ,
starting life over this one last time.

I come out of hibernation,

greet the radiant sun, try to meet
expectations. It works like a charm.
I acted and now I am.

Last Night

2012-01-05T17:29:00.000-08:00

Scent of white fleshed shrimp,
garlic and butter,
Porterhouse steak and potatoes
on the grill.
Jon is the master chef in the house,
sous-chef, Val.
We eat, drink, and play dominoes.
Kaylee coos.

Empty House

2012-01-05T17:11:00.000-08:00

Stomach ache, head full of visions
from last week, heart ache,
phantom embraces, baby chatter

rings in my ears,

granddaughter and family
left this mourn.

Second Choice

2012-01-03T19:25:00.000-08:00

Frigid winds keep us from Disney World.
Instead we play Dominoes. They click, clack, stack up
on slick marble table. Valerie, Jon, Bill and I
in a game of chance while baby Kaylee reaches,
attempts to rescue dominoes from their symmetry.

Jabber, Jabber

2012-01-02T16:50:00.000-08:00

Kulukiaia, dadadadada,
mamalallam, lockalockalock,
papapapapa, one-year-old
Kaylee’s in the house.

Grand and Great

2012-01-01T14:18:00.000-08:00

I will attempt to complete one small stone a day for the month of January. This is my frist one. A small stone is just a short poem about a happening or something I notice each day.

Granddaughter’s smile as warm as the Florida sun,
her husband by her side. My great granddaughter
reaches up for me. In just that moment,
my dreams have come true.

Solitary

2011-12-21T13:22:00.000-08:00

I gaze outside my window,
look for a bird, a squirrel.
Hear a baby cry, maybe it was a cat.
Look for the walker with Siberian Husky,
late today, I wonder if she’s ok.
I’m at my desk and wonder why
I can’t produce one solitary poem.

A Knot in the Wood

2011-12-10T15:28:00.001-08:00

The perfect grain interrupted.

Calm color of honey displaced
by russet and black ulcers.

I wait for the new cabinet to arrive.

One unified slice of wood, no blemish,
stain or fault; run my hand along
smooth, cool wood and stop short.

I see them side by side, perfect and flawed.
Clear to me now, I crate up the new
cabinet and gaze at the beauty of the
knotted old one. Knots display character.

The Past

2011-12-07T14:45:00.000-08:00

The wrinkles mask the face of his past, a face so smooth,

so handsome he had his choice of women. This tower
of a man stoops at the shoulders and walks with a gait,
but still the strong body of his past shows when he attempts
to stand or walk. He was a man who rode horses and built

his muscles on the farm he worked. His glazed over eyes hold visages

of the eyes of his youth, as blue as snow at dusk. Fleeting life can’t
camouflage the knowledge in his past. His slowed heart beat
doesn’t tell the story of a good man who saw beauty in those with a good heart.
He raised his family to do the same. They prospered and carried on that legacy
of this man now wrinkled and stooped who is their hero. He died with them at his side.

Question of Place

2011-12-04T14:30:00.000-08:00

How to recognize the right place for you?
Do you know when it’s time to stop looking?
If you make a mistake will there be a safety net?
How do you know when it’s time to compromise,
when it’s time to stand firm? Does it matter?

Bonded By Our Words

2011-11-30T18:54:00.000-08:00

Against all odds our online poetry critique group
has lasted twelve years. We’ve been through a lot,
diagnosis, loss, worry, birth of grandchildren, children’s
weddings, grand celebrations, and publications. We hear
each other’s joy and pain through the writings.

We carry on to encourage, critique honestly, learn from,

and inspire each other. Each of us are stronger for our union.
Our lives, personal and writing, keeps changing but the core
of the group, the friendships we have forged holds steady.
We are band of women, The Skywriters, bonded by our words.

NaNoWriMo

2011-11-30T17:08:00.000-08:00

I wrote a novel. That's my story and I'm sticking to it! LOL
I finished 50,000 words for the National Novel Writing Month. Next step. I am not going to look at it again for 6 weeks at least. Then I'll do some revisions and see if I have anything. I don't have a great hope of making this anything viable, I am just enjoying the fact that I did it. I went down to the wire but, I did it!

Evening Goes

2011-11-30T01:46:00.000-08:00

I relax into the evening
The hamburger is browning
Smells of tomato sauce bubbly.
All is ready, I sit at the computer
To tap out a few more lines, thoughts.
Lexi starts to bark, jumping around like
An aerialist, she runs to me, then charges
For the door. He’s home she seems to say.

A kiss and hug for me, a treat for the bouncing dog

A hope from me that he’ll settle, be calm,
But no, we have to go. He thinks we should go
To Sam’s or to the mall, just walk around, grab
Dinner. I cooked, he says, let’s save it for tomorrow.
I have work to do here, it can wait. Come be with me.
I was hoping for a bath, TV, some writing before bed.
He was hoping for a ride, a walk, see sights, do things.
He’s a go, go, go guy, I know that. It’s hard when
I’m a sit, sit, and sit kind of girl. Work to be done here.

I go. Be with him most times. That’s the important choice.

To be with him, tomorrow we’ll eat spaghetti and watch TV.
Tomorrow I’ll get some writing done and finish the painting.
Tonight we’ll hold hands in Wal-Mart and laugh because
Someone said something funny at work. He likes it when
We are out and I’m not working either.

Ghost Story

2011-11-30T01:40:00.000-08:00

She feels a being, stealthy and languid.
Someone in the room, but not, someone watches her.
She slid the saffire sweater over her head. Her eyes
are drawn to the blood red splatters across the cowl.
She needs a bath, the laundry can wait. She turned
the hot water on and let it run over her, clear her head.
She can't lose her nerve now. She's home free.

Her body feels like fire but she scrubs the blood
from her hair, lets it bubble down the drain. She was cleansed.
She steps into the bedroom wrapped in a towel.
There on the bed lie her clothes and across the sheet,
written in scarlet letters was the epitaph,
Bloodshed in red,
you’ll wish you were dead.

Tribute

2011-11-29T05:43:00.000-08:00

She takes the rap
Everything I dish out
If only in my mind
She keeps moving
Her shoulders hunched
From burden of a life
Unfiltered.

No one kept her safe

Loved her, told her
She was special.
No one showed her how
To be a woman, mother, wife
Have respect for self
How a good man behaves.

No one said you are pretty,

Smart, kind, strong or loveable
She had to eke out a life
Without guidance, love
Or help of any kind face.

She survived and was

Toughened by a life hard
From the beginning
She knew what to expect
What she'd get from this
Life that spit her out.

She didn't know marrying

An abusive man would be
Her undoing where hope
Was concerned. She gave us
What she knew, a good spanking.

She ridiculed and set up, made a sport

Out of beatings. Didn't hug, touch.
Her children never heard I love you
Or you are precious or pretty or smart
For she didn't believe in spoiling kids
Or giving them the big head. She kept
The six at bay so she could have a life.

Such as it was. Her husband came first.

He ate steak while they went hungry.
She'd say she gave her life up for them
And I know she did. A husband who drank away
What he made, six mouths to feed with no support
Her life swallowed up in have-to's and wants
And all the never haves.

They were never a consideration for her

She didn't raise kids to think differently
She worked hard to keep them down
She'd never raised an uppity kid.
She did a good job by her standards
She worked all her life to make sure
She handed down all her knowledge.

The Good Old Days

2011-11-26T16:04:00.000-08:00

These are the good old days.

The golden years were in the summer
of my life, when the sun was shining.
I met my husband, held my children’s
wiggly bodies for the first time,
had a houseful of laughter and activity.

The good old days are now. I’m old,

but there are riches to be found
in the love of this same sweet man,
the mountain top in fall, or a winter
scene when I write or paint to my content.

All Consuming

2011-11-26T16:00:00.000-08:00

Our tragedies have to consume us in the dark and daytime, too.
There are only slight reprieves from our duty to get through this,
before another tragedy strikes. Or the delightful floats into our lives
and needs our attention and ministrations to become joys.
We aren’t strange in our unrelenting, all-consuming thoughts,
it’s how we grow and go on, how we move through and survive

Gathering Fellows

2011-11-26T15:53:00.000-08:00

We gather to poem, the poets and I,
in the months of April and November.
We ponder, write, and share the angst
of producing that poem a day.

I like being surrounded, if only online,

by those who write poetry and prose.
This connection through stanzas and lines,
gathered fellows of the word, we poem.

Hey!

2011-11-23T13:06:00.000-08:00

People up north in Tennessee
where I was born and raised
say I have a northern accent.
They ask me why that’s so
when I live further south than they.
I say, hey?

People here in Florida

say I have a southern accent thick
they strain to understand me.

They never knew Florida

had only two syllables. Not till
they heard me. Well, hey!

Coordinated Fruit

2011-11-23T12:57:00.000-08:00

I have oranges in the fruit bowl

October and November,
shiny red delicious apples
all December long.

I know it’s a little strange,

won’t make sense to those
who like their seasonal fruit.

But the oranges match my fall décor

and apples, well you get the gist.
Coordinated down to my fruit bowl,
my way to say I’m with it.

Whenever I Shop

2011-11-22T12:04:00.000-08:00

The world gets smaller.

No crime, starving children,

no touchy conversations.

A kaleidoscope of color, whirls.

Melodious background voices, calm.

No aches, no pains, no work.

Just shop, smile, be, hunt, enjoy.

Melt away in a daze of joyous

Sights, sounds, and kinetic energy.

Best Ever

2011-11-20T13:43:00.000-08:00

He decided he’d go with me to the mall

after we had breakfast at his favorite spot.

The back-ups that lead to the Bucs stadium

went for miles. We forgot about that.

We sang old songs and poked along.

At the mall we parked in the overflow lot,

walked around holding hands and sharing soda.

Saw Santa Claus in his ice palace, heard the squeals

from children, grumbles from adults that it's too soon.

Such a magical time, the times I spend with Bill.

Suspicious Mind

2011-11-20T06:20:00.000-08:00

I don’t like this cloud that rolls in and covers everything each time I think of you.

You act concerned, but I recognize the moments of forgetfulness and disorganization,
the times you lose your place and tap your finger on your desk. You need a haircut.
Are you taking care of yourself? How can you do this job, probe here, pull there, check
this, singe that. I don’t know what you think or whether you are good, do I go on faith?
How many have you saved? How many were killed by your practiced hands?
I have to put the upmost trust in you; I put my most precious possession in your hands.
Should I really entrust his life to you, Doctor? What are my choices?

Delusion

2011-11-19T03:32:00.000-08:00

Marshmallow Santas are my heart’s desire.
Christmas music makes a lie out of disappointment.
We cheat cancer like a con man, shaking hands
with the enemy when he's cut down with lasers.
It's too late to get a foothold on slippery
slopes too steep, too deep, and complicated,
like health, mortality or faith, and who
He is. Delusion is a grifter taking up room
and board in this slop house of a greasy spoon.
This health guru cooks fried chicken and bakes
cheesecake, promises to get a grip before he kills
us all. He’s unaware of deceptive practices.
He only wants us to be happy and we love him for it.

I Am

2011-11-18T15:37:00.000-08:00

The seas and storms buffet and blast, the winds
always changing direction. Go there now
and stand, it won’t be easy, a storm is coming.
Between tempests, the still voice says from
experience, I can promise you sunshine,
a muse within reach, fun times and people
you will grow close to, more family to love,
and caring that will make the world a better place.

Persevere now for another patch of wild flowers later,

Reds and yellows so intoxicating your heart will stop
for a moment. You won’t see them right away,
you have to focus.

Revelation

2011-11-18T05:53:00.000-08:00

The nurses wheeled him out of my reach, my sight
and then out of my hearing. Wrenching. He’s alone
on this journey, I can’t even share a whisper.
Can’t touch his hand as they cut and laser, decide
his future, mine.

I meant it when I told him, “I’ll never leave you”.
I face the facts I will, or you will leave me when
we are most frightened, most alone. I walk by his
side in joy, in love, but what has been revealed
is he’s alone and so am I.

Once Upon a Neighborhood

2011-11-18T05:47:00.000-08:00

We see proof, we know you are there
though you hide in cars that pass me by
no acknowledgement to my waving hand.
Your garage door opens, automatically,
closes before you get out of your car,
before I can see you and know who you are.

I wonder if it’s because we are older now,

no children to get to know you through,
or if this is the Twilight Neighborhoods of today
where no one knows, no one speaks, no one
sees the other. How do they get their mail?

I feel like a ghost walking a tiny dog

down the empty, quiet streets, my head
tilted at the houses for signs of life. My lips
form the word, I whisper.. then shout, Boo!

Love of Life

2011-11-17T20:25:00.001-08:00

Love lies fallow in every lonely heart,

ready to sprout, take root. He hopes,

looks for the chance to bring sustenance

into his life, have someone to love and be

loved by. She prays she doesn’t miss

out or give up too soon, waits for the spark

when their eyes meet.

I want to tell them relax, it’s all chance,

a big gamble, nothing is ever for sure.

Enjoy today and the love you share,

there’s no guarantees about tomorrow.

Deadly

2011-11-15T12:28:00.001-08:00

So many ways to die.
Automobile accident, cancer,
suicide, drugs, disease, murder.
The number of ways are infinite.
We wlll all die, but for now
we live our lives full out and steady.

Kind Healer

2011-11-15T11:55:00.000-08:00

The doctor’s hand touches

my husband’s arm, my hand

as he tells us its cancer, quickly

tells us the way we will do

battle, irradiate the enemy,

keep close eye on rebirth.

He’ll slice away every cell of tumors,

then singe in the fires of a laser.

We - keep our appointments,

pray, and don’t give up hope.

Electronic Excess

2011-11-14T14:45:00.000-08:00

Phone rings, it's my cell

Where is it, in my car!

No, it’s my home phone,

no, it must be my husband’s cell.

Ping! They must have left a text.

I just want to write on my laptop,

at least answer my email.

But I’ll use my IPAD so I can

catch the phones, too.

The door bell rings,

the dog barks, her collar sprays

water in her face so she will stop.

The phone rings again,

It’s not my cell, I'll get the door.

A Day to Forget

2011-11-14T14:23:00.000-08:00

Eleven, Eleven, Eleven

at eleven:eleven a.m.

A day I won’t repeat

in my lifetime.

Only look back on,

remember where I was.

I was beside my husband

while he slept, checking

for fever or any change,

wondering if I’d notice

something important,

something that went awry.

This day has become

a day I want to forget.

The day after his surgery.

The day we heard cancer

applied to our life.

The Stage

2011-11-13T17:55:00.000-08:00

Cancer or not?

It's cancer.

We are in the club,

I hope the name

is Cancer Survivors.

Tomorrow, surgery,

then what? Find out

what stage? Stage sounds.

like a performance.

I need to be on that stage

brave and true for him.

Where do I get that kind

of strength ? From no

where I've been before.

He because he has it,

me because I love him.

His Point of View

2011-11-11T13:58:00.000-08:00

Following is my poem for PAD that is from another person's view point. I chose my husband's thoughts while we waited for him to be wheeled off for surgery. I know these were his thoughts because he expressed them to me.

Today is my birthday.

I had plans for celebration

but instead I lay in this hospital bed
hooked up to beeping machines.
I place my hand over my wife’s
As she stands by my bed.

She stands on that side of the rail

and I’m lying here, she can’t understand.
This really is a journey each of us takes alone.

I am afraid but I’m a man. I can’t show it,

can’t be the one to crumble under the weight
of the C word and worry what they will cut out.

The anesthecist gives me a shot of courage. I guess

I didn’t carry off the brave act well enough. We
are going, moving to the operating room. I love you
Honey. Did I tell her everything I wanted to?

That she is the best thing that ever happened to me
and if I died today, it would be OK because it’s been
better than I ever dreamed. Not to worry about me.
That I’ll be with my son if I am not here with her.

Yes, I know I did. Nothing left to say, so I’ll sing.

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to..

Black or White

2011-11-11T13:35:00.000-08:00

Tell me my husband is OK.
I don’t understand all this doc talk
Say yes, he has cancer, or no.

The vagaries of the disease

I’ll learn when I can comprehend

Does he or doesn’t he?

I’m It

2011-11-11T13:14:00.000-08:00

I wrote this small stone while in the hospital waiting the outcome of Bill's surgery. The fear that I had and that I saw in his eyes made me realize it was my turn to be strong; I was it!
A small stone is one little stone out of a river bank, not the whole river. I sure had a river's worth in me this week!

I’ve never had to be the strong one
Not for forty years, not once
We’ve been devastated and down
Depressed and damaged together once
But I’ve never had to be the strong one
Not until now.

Same Old, Same Old

2011-11-09T06:00:00.000-08:00

It takes something abnormal to make normal so appealing.
We see the joy of a hot summer day when the snow piles up,
Go along complaining about mundane until all hell breaks loose.
I want a normal day and whatever it brings, no bombshells
Same old, same old day after day is what I long for this morning.

Warrior

2011-11-07T15:53:00.000-08:00

Good news waits on us, bad news
gives us no time outs, no free shots
or pinch hitters. The blow is swift
and often it’s a sucker punch.

Devastation, diagnosis, instant death
won't wait for us to prepare,
research, know what we’re
up against. We’re just given

our sword and shield and told,
“This is your battle, be brave.”

Damnation

2011-11-06T17:21:00.000-08:00

Cool breeze blew this morning. Seventy degrees perfect.

The heat began up high, came from down below,

now inside. Back to AC, ASAP.

People Who Know Me Know

2011-11-06T06:30:00.000-08:00

I have two addictions:

My drug of choice is Diet Coke,

get high on caffeine with the number I drink.
The other is more general.. no brand names,
just sweets. Give me a chocolate bar,
a Diet Coke and it’s hard to wipe the smile
off my face or stop my hands from shaking,
until I crash from the sugar and caffeine.

Then I’d like to crawl into a ball,

take a nice long nap. Naps, I think that might
be my addiction as well. I’m a sleeper all right.

Family

2011-11-06T05:37:00.000-08:00

(This is my small stone for November 4. I almost titled it Family Stone. I think the name is taken though. LOL)

We talk over gift bag, Elvis,

all blue suede shoes. Food comes all
fettucini and tortellini ,waiter Patrick not Pat
sweaty, flustered in his delivery. We make him laugh,
drink a toast to birthday uomo bello Bill.

Broken

2011-11-05T07:56:00.000-07:00

He’s my hero from the day I met him

He’s muscular, tall, and brave.

He’s made a career and then a business

He works hard for all those he loves.

He has a good heart, he loves God and

earth’s people. His net reaches wide and high.

He’s a giant among men of morals, he’s

true, loving and kind.

But he’s also a broken being. He’s saddled

with a horrific loss. His son died in his prime.

He sits at the gravesite and weeps. It’s been

eleven years now, but he grieves for his only son.

Nomad

2011-11-05T07:39:00.000-07:00

Unexpected, now accepted

we are moving again.
Back to the town we came
from, back to a country home.

We’ll live in a white shingled

house now, black shutters with
a wrap-around porch. Home
will be open, inviting,

a full yard leads into

the woods. There’s a fire-pit
for roasting marshmallows,
a patio with two seating groups.

Lush oaks tower over the grounds.

There’s a magnolia, palm trees,
lush plants. They all give it a scenic view.
Theres a garage for him to tinker in

a studio to keep my paints. But I
I didn’t expect to move again.
We’ve moved so many times.
This one should be the last.
At least, it seems like that now.

Sort of Strange

2011-11-03T14:19:00.000-07:00

My husband gets better
looking to me the older he is
though we’ve been together
over 40 years.

I have a passion for
my creative work,
it doesn't even seem a choice.

Love for my son grows,
it's stronger than his death.

I am calmer now, more so
than when I was twenty
or forty or even fifty.

That the world’s situation is
as dire and shocking as ever,
but if I can't change it, I let it go.

Isn't that strange.

Bats Habitat

2011-11-03T05:12:00.000-07:00

Eekk!

The city built homes for them
so they would rid our area
of disease carrying mosquitoes.
They want to rebuild now – more
give these beady eyed bats
amenities that would darken

their days further, so these night

creatures will be rested for their
night forays. For a higher cause-
but…Eekk!

Wedding Rehearsal

2011-11-02T18:09:00.000-07:00

“It is what it is – if you cry, you cry.”

Jeni Roney

The rehearsal walk down the aisle didn’t go well.

Each time her father began the walk, he’d break down.

His son died six months before, the pain still so raw.

He felt the absence with each step he took. He prayed

for strength. His daughter had lost her brother,

she deserved a perfect day. He confided

“Jeni, I don’t think I can do this, I loose it every time.”

She held his hand, looked into his eyes, “Dad,

it is what it is. If you cry, you cry”. He felt

the freedom of those words. He walked down the aisle

with such pride in his daughter, wise and grown.

He began to live his life with these words in mind,

“it is what it” with the silent rejoinder, “if you cry, you cry.”

Rain Drops

2011-11-01T14:20:00.000-07:00

Drips into puddles,
sparkles of rainbow on pock -marked streets.

My eyes look up in hope, met with gray

skies and storm clouds – readjustment –

there will be sunshine inside today.

I'll Get to it Today

2011-11-01T13:35:00.001-07:00

The leftovers
A theme for PAD
The question for NaNo
Birthday gift for Bill
Writing something, anything
Make the Skywriters meeting
Leave the Halloween candy alone
Spend time with Jeni
Answer my email, get messages from IPhone
Get my conference material in order
Keep an attitude of thankfulness all day
Tell those I love that I do
Embrace the moment, seize the day
Clean up Halloween decorations
Dinner with daughter and son-in-law
Make Christmas card list and start
Give Lexi dawg her bath
Get nails done
Sign up for Christmas show
Send birthday cards to nieces
Find an art class
Sign up for Nov knitting classes
Take photos of our new house
Think about what furniture to take
How to decorate
Today
Perhaps a bit smaller list would
not set me up for failure?

I See

2011-10-30T16:41:00.000-07:00

her subterfuge is canny
but i see through it now
know she isn't going
to do what she says

i won't be blind to her
can't let her have another day
hold me captive with her lies
and promises to do better

my feelings i will honor
if she shows up i'll be glad
but now i know her
will not dream she will change

Until The Words Flow

2011-10-27T18:09:00.000-07:00

Writer’s block stops me, holds me poised

over PC or pad. It’s not for lack of interest,

the harder I try, the less I produce. Perhaps

it is that I am drawn to rest, I find sitting here

appealing from time to time? My purpose is to write,

but my mind wanders, coffee cup in hand, I think of

checking facebook, my email, see what my writing group

is producing, or if anyone commented on my blog. I need to sit

with purpose, begin with stream of consciousness until the words

flow freely, I see a few seeds sown that has possibility, might grow

into a poem. Perhaps writer’s block is more my own doing than I can

admit. I’ll think about it over another cup of coffee, maybe mocha this time.

Decade Question

2011-10-26T18:39:00.000-07:00

Whenever I

get shaky or dizzy

from exhaustion,

or take a nap,

I feel the fear

seeping through

tired bones. Am I

to loose the energy

I have had, this

another harbinger

of my sixth decade,

do I need a wonder med,

or do I only need to adjust?

Instant Coffee

2011-10-26T13:13:00.000-07:00

Instant coffee taste bitter on tongue.

Cigarette throat, hoarse and raw.

Yellow fingers with bloody cracks

reach for another Camel. He swears.

Swollen eyes flinch as the hotel florescent sign

shines gawdawful yellow into the early morning

squalor. He gulps the last inch of vodka

then places the bullet in the chamber.

Dead Wood

2011-10-25T09:29:00.000-07:00

Each year it gets harder to say good-bye to the mountains.
Cool air envelops a silver morning - high. I look down at the clouds
as they encase tips and tops, red maple and sweet gum, then settle
into the the valleys and towns.

Smells from the paper mill seem harsh this morning. I'm embarrassed
that the trees smell the fragrance of their own mushy death when
the wind is just right and lays that fragrance like a cremation over the clouds.

I wonder when I get back next summer if the cypress and slippery elm
I have come to know will still be there, or will I smell their pulp instead
as they scent the others with their demise. Perhaps they will be there, still,
and I will see their offspring growing there beside them.

Oomph!

2011-10-24T14:57:00.000-07:00

Energy drinks, b-12 shots, vitamins,

supplements, more coffee please.

I try to get the stamina for another day

through means at my disposal.

I wonder why nothing works well?

I’m tired and feel bogged down.

Guess I’ll have to face the facts,

energy is just a memory.

Rage

2011-10-19T06:59:00.000-07:00

You are so full of rage,
The therapist said in such a calm register.
Rage? That's the last thing anyone
Who knows me would say about me.
Quite the opposite really. She closes
her writing pad and stands and states.
We will pick this up another time,

Why are you so full of rage. I ask her as
I watch her lips purse and her hands
go to her hair to put it into a severe
ponytail,then take it down in quick succession.
Rage! She rages. Anyone who knows me well
would never use that word to describe me!
She stares at me with what looks like hatred
As I put my computer away.

She's Thankful

2011-10-11T17:16:00.000-07:00

For the beauty in the world around her
the trees full leaved and green , then
brilliant colors, and even naked in
creative stances against the gray of winter.

For her husband by her side some forty
years, and hoping that much more.
Even then she knows it wouldn’t be enough.
For her son that gave her twenty-three years
of a rip roaring ride through little boy laughter,
hugs, and tears. Of an adolescent’s wonderings,
then young adulthood when he became a man.
Even death couldn’t win out, she has him beside
her every step she takes, talks with him, and smiles
as the memories overtake her and she is with him again.

For a daughter full of life and love with her hard working
husband and her little dog. She’s a career woman,
small but strong. She makes her way through a
corporate world. She’s kind and giving and so
much a part of her that she believes her daughter is spirit.

For the daughter who has given her four beautiful
granddaughters and those granddaughters who
have given her renewed life and joy. For the three
great grandsons from one and a great granddaughter
from another that fill her heart with joy. And the gifts -
they keep coming with each moment she spends with them.

She is very thankful for her life.

Writing Naked

2011-10-09T10:11:00.000-07:00

When I write from my heart
words spill out in rich red
pools that reflect me, then
I’m writing naked.

When I hide nothing
don’t think, let words flow
from that inner place
I’m writing naked.

When I let words go
don’t cover up, don’t try to hide
feel the thumping of my heart
I’m writing naked.

When I bare my soul
let things out from deep inside
go to that place I dare to tread
I’m writing naked.

When someone reads
my words or I send it out
I offer the gift of me
I’m writing naked.

　

Surge-Recede

2011-10-08T18:24:00.000-07:00

The ocean surges, then recedes
When the surge is significant
everything stops except the
wall of water, everything else
becomes trivial.

The White House

2011-10-07T16:47:00.000-07:00

They were the Reagans
who live up the way
in the best house in those parts.
Their house smelled of milk
fresh laundry, and kids.

Mr. Reagan came home long
enough to make the Mrs. pregnant
again. She had twenty kids
for him and those kids would
do anything for her.

She was a sad woman, tiny,
frail. One child lay in a crib by
the stove. She was sixteen in diapers
and took the bottle. One boy was daft.
The rest of the kids worked the farm.

Mr. Reagan was
proud of what he did, how he
provided for his family. One day,
Rosalee,my friend, begged her mom
Don't let him in your bed again. You have
too many babies, Mama, it's going
to kill you!

Mrs. wouldn’t look at her baby, Hope,
when she was born. Everything
went perfectly, Mr. Reagan
announced. The Mrs. died the next day.

Balloon Float

2011-10-07T16:04:00.000-07:00

The dream was always the same

I could float away

on a cloud or a bunch of balloons,

away from the troubles in my

young mind.

Today

no clouds are needed, no balloons to erase

the pain and angst. I can float away

with meditation, prayer, or just zone out

to free myself, then come back refreshed.

My Face Turns Up

2011-10-04T15:42:00.000-07:00

My face turns toward the rain.

Drops plays on my skin, dribble

into my mouth, drum a steady
beat on my skin, and hang

like crystals from my eyelashes.

My clothes are drenched, weighted.
Nearby dahlias dance in the shower.

There is no better remedy, nothing more

liberating, than the glorious rain

and me caught without an umbrella.

Coffee Game

2011-10-02T09:12:00.000-07:00

Choices assault my senses,

coffee hot, cold, sweet, bold,

but she doesn’t even look

at the menu overhead.

She stops her sentence,

I halt my thoughts. Will she

give in to the aroma and pull

of the pumpkin spice latte..

mocha she says without a blink,

it’s always mocha but I always hope.

Hour Before Dawn

2011-09-10T06:31:00.000-07:00

The hour before dawn

I lie awake, half dream world,

half reality. I long to stay

one more

hour, one minute. Why must

I be pummeled and crushed

by reality each morning.

In the hour before dawn

I want the dream.

Scruff

2011-09-04T17:18:00.000-07:00

He was a scruff of a boy

traipsing along the dirt road on Rocky Point.

His overalls were worn thin at the knees,

he wore no shirt, no shoes.

A straw hat fit cockeyed across his

head and sheltered half his face. I heard him

whistling a familiar tune as he sauntered

on whittling down the dusty Queen

Ann’s lace that overgrew the soil

and lay on road like maidens in wait

for the guillotine. He whomped their

heads off with his walking stick and never

missed a step. He never looked my way

even when I stopped the car

but I couldn’t take my eyes

off this scene as he turned off onto the path

that led to the cool spring with grapevines

swings that my brothers and I would

go to on summer days like these. Time

reverses for me for a while until I start

the car up and travel forward, leaving

the innocence of that time in the clouds

of road dirt behind me.

A New Friend

2011-08-18T08:19:00.000-07:00

Her heart is broken
I see it through her eyes
before the tears appear.

I know that pain,
raw, open, intense.
It has only been a year
for her. I don’t want

to go back, but I do,
I must before she can trust me,
can know me, will take my hand,
accepts my words, my gift
of understanding, my hug

filled with solace.
To hear her story is to
feel her pain and spiral down
however, I have the tools to rise
again, and the hope that I can bring
her with me if only for a moment.

Art Heals

2011-08-18T07:37:00.000-07:00

Brush in hand,
smell of oils,
mind zoned in,
subject, perspective,
colors mix, swish,
image unfolds,
the process of creation.

She

2011-08-14T16:13:00.000-07:00

Who searches for meaning

In every event, is always on

The look for happenings,

a good story, a jolting

Poem, or a good character

sketch. She who knows

She must stay alert, grasp

The essence of the moment,

Then write what she sees

and feels. That is what

helps her feel connected.

And alive; she who writes.

The Magician

2011-08-09T20:32:00.000-07:00

The illusionist makes wide sweeping gestures

walks across the stage and back again

all the while he produces the magic

he is well known for.

There is a moment in the performance

when I’m lost in the show, don’t see

the strings or mirrors, don’t care about

the trick. He smiles.

I try to stay in the moment but the spell

is broken. I see him through the fog,

no magic, no special powers, just a man

of subterfuge and lies.

The Estate

2011-08-04T15:22:00.000-07:00

Acceptance is a place,

an estate arrived at by

many paths that twist

and turn, lots of switch backs,

pits, and mountains to climb.

The way there bought by

work, tears, pain, and grief

but at the end of the road is that

elusive estate of beauty, serene

countenance, and peace of mind.

Acceptance is a place, come sit

at my table, I’ll share what I know

of it. I’ll tell you of my journey.

He Reclaims

2011-07-31T16:08:00.000-07:00

Fear will pierce,

jangle my nerves,

sprout like weeds

in my psyche.

Fear rattles my being,

splinters the fortress

I've built over the years,

then overtakes my spirit.

Voices of peace

emerge when summoned,

the holy image of Him, strong,

appears, takes over, reclaims.

Remission

2011-07-27T18:48:00.000-07:00

Grief isn’t gone – doesn’t disappear

it only goes into remission. It waits

always patient, to return with a word,

a familiar face, smell, place, or thought

to plunge you deep into the pit again.

Sure, the intensity lessens, that stabbing

pain that attacks the heart and strips away

until you are raw, becomes a deep

sadness, a haze instead of a bright Monet.

Grief never disappears, it just goes into

remission for a day, a night or even a week.

Lexi is Six

2011-07-24T05:43:00.000-07:00

Lexi turned six this

month. I’m happy,

celebrate her life

and all she’s given

but I want twenty more

at least, don’t want to think

she’s middle aged in dog

years, that her best years

are behind her after only six.

Peal From a Dark Room

2011-07-18T08:47:00.000-07:00

(A Grandma’s Lament)

Can you hear the peal
of laughter as you walk by
the darkened room, her room?

That sound gives me peace,
and even a smile from time to time.
Take my hand, walk softly, tell
me if you hear it, too. Now.

No laughter, no sounds
at all ? Can’t you her the phone
ring, hear her speak, there, laughter!

Loneliness

2011-07-16T14:41:00.000-07:00

walk with friends, gather family,

embrace our children, spend years

with them at our side so we aren’t alone.

look for a soul mate who won’t leave,

promise to love until death parts, some

even settle so they won’t be alone.

do all we can to have others

to share our lives with, all for

the illusion that we aren’t alone.

Succulent

2011-07-15T19:11:00.001-07:00

Sweet, juicy Georgia

peaches so plump,

sticky juice drips

down my elbows

as I take another

bite of sun-ripened

deliciousness right

there in the orchard.

Briana

2011-07-15T08:51:00.000-07:00

In the casket is a girl
Just nineteen
Black silky dress
Ladybug tattoo
Behind her ear
Life palpable
All around
Her grandma pleads
Wake-up, Ladybug!

She Sleeps

2011-07-05T19:29:00.000-07:00

Cuddled next to me

Ear lops onto my leg

Rise and fall of her chest

A gentle rythmn

She adds to my life

Even as she sleeps.

Fourth of July

2011-07-04T14:58:00.000-07:00

Flag gently waves, hotdogs grill, mustard

is spilled on white blouse. Chatter of people,

smell of tan lotion, kids all splash in the pool.

Another memory, family and friends,

another great moment of pride.

The Art of Light

2011-07-03T05:28:00.000-07:00

The green, pristine,

perfection in color and style.

I appreciate each tree leaf,

each Hybiscus bloom.

Then the sun begins

to play across the scene

like an artist of light

and shadows, I gasp at

the change, feel honored

to witness the beauty.

Substinence

2011-07-02T17:01:00.000-07:00

Diet in black cursive,

Coke in red block letters,

12 FL OZ,

all on a gray paper band

around the shapely plastic bottle.

My refreshment, my vice.

Salt Water Gift

2011-07-02T05:35:00.000-07:00

Salt water in the gulf

is a healer, buoyant

and giving. Plays

with me with sudsy

like waves that bury

my feet in the sand,

then washes them free.
Salt water brings

me gifts of seastars,

sand dollars, and shells

with seaweed bows.

FIMH

2011-07-01T16:38:00.000-07:00

My coffee mug is washed out blue,

the fired clay feels solid and warm

in my hands. The steamy brew

from Kona coffee beans, a gift

from a friend. The aromatic liquid

soothes as it slides down, takes

the scratchy ache in my throat away

as it fills my senses with feeling

for the giver of this cup. The inscription

FIMH in white imbedded letters,

Forever In My Heart, warmth floods me.

Self Preservation

2011-06-13T06:19:00.000-07:00

Concern deepens, brow furrows; wonder

And worry consume. I wonder if this,

Worry that, and what if it doesn’t work out.

My concern takes over the days, tortures by

Night in my dreams. Concern is the best

Possible emotion until it turns on you.

In all things let there be boundaries

And balance.
Let me not live the pain

With everyone that is hurting. Let me have

Concern, help if I can, but stay once removed.

Big Cry Baby

2011-06-06T17:27:00.000-07:00

I sit, fresh tears sting my eyes

The bandage is off my foot

I try not to look, not to faint

Like I did last time. I want to be

Brave but I feel myself revert.

Doctor will be in soon..he might

Take out the stitches or the rod

Going through my second toe

I think it's better not to know.

X-rays show the broken bones,

Joints removed and I see the cut flesh.

My big toe is straight, I'll concentrate

On the good..a mantra..my big toe
Is straight.I'll ask for help, ask why
The pain pills stop at my ankles.

I want a foot pain killer.

I thought this would be a piece

Of cake, I had bilateral knee surgery

For Pete’s sake. This is so minor

In comparison. I realize I have

To pay my dues. No surgery is easy.

Cry baby me wants it over with, now!