Friday, March 30, 2012
Saturday, March 24, 2012
So much swirling around me lately
so many things to do, to prepare for,to let go of
Letting go...the hard one
I have embarked on spring cleaning early
well, if Mother Nature can arrive early..I can clean out early
but what do I keep, what do I throw or give away?
...Always the delay
Just as in the garden, what stays, what is to be moved or shared
dilemma
I have, in the past had to make choices about people too
Who stays as a friend, who is too much of a spirit sapper ...and goes
always choices to be made
So far, I have navigated well through these waters
But I am getting older and my energy levels..well, sometimes
I'd rather sit and read a good book
or just write one...finally
choices...we live by them and sometimes suffer and die because of them
So you see, this spring cleaning thing is important
what if I throw something out that later I regret..or worse...my daughters ask me for
If I ask them...they say...oh, don't get rid of that.....but I am the one they expect to store it all
choices....they are mine...not theirs....
one warning this time..and it goes
Ah... liberation
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
It's my mother's 82nd birthday
I have been blessed with her for a mother
smart,active,friendly,talented
thrifty,God loving,helpful
generous,gentle,loving
forgiving,respectful
a good cook
and my best friend
She was into herbs, natural things
and yoga before anyone else
she quilts,does puzzles
and can stretch a dollar further than anyone
She has lost a son, a husband,a brother, two sisters
and a late in life companion
and still she looks for life's next adventure
Sure she can't walk as fast, eat as much
see as well,
but she still has a glass of beer
before bed
Happy birthday mom
Thursday, March 15, 2012
I love this daughter
and hold her in prayer everyday
for the journey she is on
not by choice
well, maybe by choice
she chose life
Tomorrow she moves to a new home
of tall oaks, cobblestone streets
and wrought iron
grandpa and I will have our grandson all day
Precious little guy
he thinks all that is going on is moving to a new house
and that his room has many windows
and places for his trains
Just about every friend I have
is going through trials or tribulations
This is life
ah..life...it is a gift truly
The older I get the clearer it is to me
that our footsteps touch many kinds of stones on the path
it is how we walk them that counts
Here's to a new life, dear daughter
and hold her in prayer everyday
for the journey she is on
not by choice
well, maybe by choice
she chose life
Tomorrow she moves to a new home
of tall oaks, cobblestone streets
and wrought iron
grandpa and I will have our grandson all day
Precious little guy
he thinks all that is going on is moving to a new house
and that his room has many windows
and places for his trains
Just about every friend I have
is going through trials or tribulations
This is life
ah..life...it is a gift truly
The older I get the clearer it is to me
that our footsteps touch many kinds of stones on the path
it is how we walk them that counts
Here's to a new life, dear daughter
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
magpietale # 108 ...Gone
old vision sees her
I know her scent in the air
but can't catch a dream
#108
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Oh bother.
So many things to do today.
I am rewriting a short story today for my writing group tonight,
expanding it in parts.....such tough critics they are ..
But I will do as they suggest. They have been right before, I hate to admit...I love them
Before I begin the process..which takes me away so quickly to another place
I need to go outside and clip a few more branches and dried stems...clean up the garden
get ready for that day when nature says, ready, set, go!
I hunger for the days when I can go outside and sit
sit and lose myself
empty and fill
unaware of this earthly place
unaware of my heart wrapped in lead
Yesterday, while in the garden I felt a presence near me
It was quite a spooky day in the garden...First I saw that witch toy in the bed of cone-flowers
after writing about needing to find the space of home within me
Then as I clipped away, a crow caw-cawed around me.....we haven't had crows here for years
so I stopped my clipping and listened... and then I felt this presence
as I sat on the moist ground,in the warm sun..wind blowing furiously around me
I expected to turn around and find a cat next to me.....I felt a cat's presence
but there was none...
but I sat there in the soil of the earth
and was comforted.....
I have a great sorrow inside of me
it affects my everything of everything
I carry on...but it waits for me..for my family
it smothers our joy.....it troubles our dreams
it enters my stories.....seasons my soups
pollutes my breath..tightens my muscles
I wear sadness everyday
even in my moments of joy....sadness is a refrain
This I am not afraid of.....this is my path
Oh, to live in the Hundred Acre Woods.
Thanks for listening dear friends who hung in there
to the end of this......now to do a little yoga
to start this day
Oh, to live in the Hundred Acre Woods.
Thanks for listening dear friends who hung in there
to the end of this......now to do a little yoga
to start this day
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
I thought about the Tin Man yesterday
who said,
I know I have a heart, because it's breaking
Oh, if only there was a Wizard I could go to..
I'd kill a witch, fight flying monkeys
walk a yellow brick road
to Oz
dodge apples thrown at me...
take up with new friends...
pull my own tail
.
Today, is a day for the garden
cleaning up, cutting back
ah
yes
I hope I stumble on a moment...
warm sunshine on my face...
That lets me in
and out
to place of home
who said,
I know I have a heart, because it's breaking
Oh, if only there was a Wizard I could go to..
I'd kill a witch, fight flying monkeys
walk a yellow brick road
to Oz
dodge apples thrown at me...
take up with new friends...
pull my own tail
.
Today, is a day for the garden
cleaning up, cutting back
ah
yes
I hope I stumble on a moment...
warm sunshine on my face...
That lets me in
and out
to place of home
Monday, March 5, 2012
a sketch for the day
who is that on paper
unfinished,like me
I promised my friend April
that I would try to do a sketch a day
for the month of March
I am not an artist, but have a few wayward
artisty genes leftover from my father
so
this is my March 1st attempt
Not sure I'll post anymore
it is something that is very difficult and I constantly erase
and start over....big inner critic
and well deserved criticism I might add
AND I just couldn't help but attempt to make a haiku
out of it...hee hee
I love visual prompts......I use them for writing all the time
I cut pictures out of magazines or save ones from the internet that match
something I am writing about....or I use it to jump start a story
such as these pictures, that went on to become stories
I won't be doing much writing today, I have a mess of housework to do
How do two people create all this mess?
I attended 2 wakes this weekend and babysat for Finn
but the hardest thing I did was keep my heart together
So off I go to find the vacuum
and defrost some pork chops
-joy-
who is that on paper
unfinished,like me
I promised my friend April
that I would try to do a sketch a day
for the month of March
I am not an artist, but have a few wayward
artisty genes leftover from my father
so
this is my March 1st attempt
Not sure I'll post anymore
it is something that is very difficult and I constantly erase
and start over....big inner critic
and well deserved criticism I might add
AND I just couldn't help but attempt to make a haiku
out of it...hee hee
I love visual prompts......I use them for writing all the time
I cut pictures out of magazines or save ones from the internet that match
something I am writing about....or I use it to jump start a story
such as these pictures, that went on to become stories
I won't be doing much writing today, I have a mess of housework to do
How do two people create all this mess?
I attended 2 wakes this weekend and babysat for Finn
but the hardest thing I did was keep my heart together
So off I go to find the vacuum
and defrost some pork chops
-joy-
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Magpie tale # 107 The Painting
Once a week
he went to the Art Institute
to stare at her.
The brushstrokes captured
the eyes of his Isabella,
the woman of long ago
that he lost to Fernando.
He knew she would be 70 now,
not the raven haired beauty
captured before him
in the sensual values of light and dark.
A painting as large as his desire
that still burned him every calendar day.
Did she have a good life?
Did she have regret?
Did she ever think of him
in the dark silence of night
as he had of her?
He unfolded a handkerchief
on his lap,in front of the painting,
lifted out a ring
and began to cry, as he had every week
since the painting appeared
on the walls of this public place,
for all to see.
Once he painted it just for his eyes,
now everyone could see what he loved
and lost.
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