Thursday, June 28, 2007

Poetry Thursday: Summer Break

The Summer comes,
and the more work it brings.

I'm sweaty now
weeding 'round plants from Spring.

Husband home on summer break,
stay-at-home mom and author,
no break do I dare take.

PS-- I apologize for meter and rhyme and all that good stuff. Said I'd post. Meant it. ;-) Sorry to make you suffer ;-)

Thursday, May 24, 2007

Poetry Thursday: Dialogue

They said, "We caught it just in time. Amputation should do the trick."
We said, "Thank you. Our mother means so much to us."

I had a nightmare. Mother in a casket, son asking, "Where's Mom-Mom going?"

I said, "I don't think they're telling us everything."
My brother agreed.

She said, "I have bad news and I didn't want to spoil your weekend. I have cancer in my lungs."

They said, "We don't know how we missed the lesions on her lung, we'll need to do more chemo."
We said, "We need to know everything, we need to be aggressive."

They said, "Sarcomas are tricky. There's not much research about them because they're so rare. We're just trying our best and experimenting as we go."
We said, "It's better to know what we're up against than not."

They said, "Her lung has collapsed and is almost full of cancer."
We said, "We'll call the Southern Branch of the family. They need to know."

The Priest said, "I can't administer this rite to a non-Catholic unless you ask for it."
She said, "Please."

They said, "We're making headway. The breathing passage is opening, but her chest is still filling with cancer. We can only do so much radiation at a time."
We said, "Be as aggressive as possible."

They said, "The problem she's having swallowing is because of a tumor in her brain. We think we can get it."
He said, "Don't rush down here. Everyone has this type of brain cancer. They feel certain they can get rid of it."

They said, "Two weeks off of radiation is standard procedure."
We said, "The doctors should know..."

He said, "She's having trouble with her balance. She seems confused."
They said, "Bring her in, there may be bleeding on the brain."

They said, "The brain cancer has spread to her brain stem. Soon she won't be able to breathe on her own. She has less than I month to live."
He said, "I'm sorry to tell you this, but you wanted to know everything as I know it. She'll go to hospice because that's the procedure when someone's dying of cancer."

I said, "How will I explain this to my three year old son who loves her so much...?"

Sorry, it's been on my mind a lot. I'll be traveling down to see her soon. I can't imagine it'll be for the last time...

Thursday, May 10, 2007

Poetry Thursday...Randomizer

My "Randomizer" word was "Unthinkable." Here's what I think of that...

Unseen, unheard, a mute sparrow.
No simple bird
Hope--the same which
"Is the thing with feathers..."
Not singing now
Kept silent by circumstance. Cold
Looking, waiting with hawkish eyes
Ever watching and hoping--yes, she hopes, too--to sing once more.

Unthinkable, unwieldy, the silent spirit of Hope.


Saturday, March 17, 2007

Luck of the Irish

The "Luck of the Irish" broke the glass
she didn't seem lucky at all.

Reddish hair, true
Dimestore brand.

An inebriated college girl
Playing with a friend
Pushed back into
the door

"You're drunk," probably the words
in hot beer-breath on the side of a snowy street.

I headed to the door--
A scold upon my lips
First day solo at the Gallery;
The manager had warned me.

"Can't pay me enough to be in town
on St. Patty's Day."

Not fast enough
A second playful push--
The girl's low slung belt studs
Started the crack

It spiderwebbed--

Look of fear on the girl's face
as she and her friend stumbled down the sidewalk--
from responsibility.

I called to them.
A tall and heavy-set dark haired boy moved in,
their protector
or hopeful
waiting for the booze to dull rejection.

His arm around them
he guided them away, glaring at me.

What could I do?
Alone in the gallery.
They say the first time for things is always memorable...

I called the manager.
Then the posted number for the cops:
"BJ's Wholesale Club" they answered.
Memorable, yes.

20 minutes later
A bar manager
and landlord
converged on the sight.

My part done,
My information given
"That's an Irish name, isn't it? Somehow fitting."
I offer to walk into the neighboring bar--
Scout for the petty criminals.

I laughed, "They were wearing green and drunk--go figure."

The police laugh too,
Not much else to do.

I have issues with irresponsible creatures
and drunkards.

"You don't want to go into a bar today,"
one officer says.
"I don't even want to be a cop today,"
the other announces.

"My insurance will only go up," the landlord says.
"We'll just fix it--Probably won't file a full report."

He's an immigrant and surely not Irish.
"They busted my bar's door earlier."
He grins.
"But that was handled."

At least he'll make a profit selling green beers
to college kids today
Repairing the doors won't be much loss
for a bar on St. Patty's Day.

Good lord...
What would Patrick say?


Sunday Scribblings: Inspiration Prompt

Sunday Scribblings: Inspiration

Heart like a child
"Immature," some whisper as I pass

Inspiration is never far away--

The word on the tip of my tongue
Tantalizing mental tastebuds

Whispers on the wind

Clouds and shadows tease my eye
Twist my memory

I still catch snowflakes with my mouth
(Never fast enough for popcorn)

Like Pandora's box
I treasure inspiration...
Still peeking
Letting ideas loose from time to time
Like plague on mankind

Racing grocery carts in parking lots
Dancing down store aisles

My son laughs
My husband groans (sometimes dancing, too)

"The rhythm IS gonna' get ya'--"
(So will inspiration)
IF you let it.

Chase it so hard you tire.
Pause, dreaming,
catch your breath
Inspiration always twists and turns--
It'll catch you

A treasure chest, I the pirate digging for inspiration's riches
I've missed the X more than once

But digging's great cardio
So I keep at it

We all need mental exercise

Examine your surroundings
Take a child's-eye view
Ask yourself odd questions
Inspiration will break through...

PS--That's random (unedited--but very true to the way my mind works). Simply, I try to break things down as if I were a visitor from some foreign and distant world. I listen closely to my son (his words and thoughts are golden). I read, I do art (or so people accuse me)... I haven't truly felt uninspired yet (and I stockpile ideas and phrases in fear that some day I might and need a crutch).

Love Grows

Love Grows

"I never promised you a rose garden..."
...Nor tomatoes,
just as red.

But far above the filth
and fertilizer
Our love still grows

Many things left unsaid.


Friday, March 16, 2007

Wounds and Weather

Wounds and Weather...

The snow came late,
The rain came early.

Now ribs of earth
through white of snowy winter breast,

An oozing open wound.
Brown is not a healthy color for such deep cuts,

It speaks of rot;

Gangrene the color of last year's grass.

Flakes fall again
promising to patch old wounds and
the site.

Stop the weeping.


That's just me, peering out my window and getting random...