Back in the saddle
21 May 2012 24 Comments
in emotions, love, music, relationships, romance, writing Tags: dreams, fairy tales, singing
After stepping back from prompt writing for a time, I decided to give it a go again, writing from this week’s prompt on the 100 Word Challenge from the wonderful blog, Julia’s Place. The prompt this time was “the flame flickered before” and here is my offering….
A love song
I knew of him, I dreamt of him; the flame flickered before I ever heard his name or saw his face. In my dreams he would sing to me, my troubadour of love. For what seemed like an eternity he was just a fairy tale; my prince who would come to rescue his princess from a life of imprisonment, lonely like Rapunzel in the tower. Then one day I heard him sing, the dream came true. It was my love, singing to me – and my heart heard him – the flame of eternal love now burns bright.
A Hallmark moment in the coffeehouse
21 May 2012 4 Comments
in writing, musings, food and drink, poetry, nature, places, emotions, city life Tags: tea shop, coffeehouse, parks, muse, writers block, greeting cards
There are certain places that inspire me more than others; the local coffeehouse around the corner, the park so close to my home with the massive trees dotted throughout, and a teahouse that is like hanging out in a friend’s house, sitting on well worn sofas and chairs. My muse loves these places and pops in for a visit as I visit these favorite places in my lovely Portland. It happened again as I stared across busy Burnside Street from the coffeehouse window, spying greeting cards in the window of the dollar store. This is how it happens at times, so simple, a gentle nudge – and the words build around one small thought.
Greeting Card to a Writer
(on the cover)
Don’t despair…
Hang in there!
(inside)
Even though the well is dry
The rain shower of words will fall
Soaking the parched paper
Ink flowing once more
The desert of writer’s block
Transformed into literary lushness
Emotional energies
19 May 2012 11 Comments
in death, emotions, grief, musings, poetry, spirituality Tags: journaling, spiritual journeys
I’ve been reading a wonderful book by Melody Beattie entitled Finding Your Way Home. This morning I read a chapter about emotions and dealing with them in a soulful way. And there was an exercise that consisted of picking out an emotional trigger from a very long list and journaling about it. The one that spoke to me was grief, but instead of journaling about it I found a poem coming through instead. As I see it, grief is a never ending journey; one with many twists and turns, shifting and changing as we deal with the often painful certainty of death in our lives here on earth.
An Arrangement
Grief and I
Have an arrangement now
I allow it to visit
But not so often anymore
And visitation time
Is much shorter than before
So we shake hands
And both agree
To this new arrangement
A Mother’s Day poem
13 May 2012 5 Comments
in childhood, emotions, love, musings, photographs, poetry Tags: children, family, mothers
My grown up and out of the nest children were the inspiration for this poem; one of the first poems I wrote when I started writing in earnest, when the words started coming out. Letting go of our dear ones is sometimes the hardest thing a mother has to do, but it is what we are working towards during all those years we raise them – and we hope they are able to fly without falling.
A Mother’s Love
A mother’s love
Is a special kind of love
It is unconditional
You never have to think about it
It just is
And that love allows you
To let go of them
When they are ready
To watch them fly
Of their own accord
But always standing in the wings
If they need a loving reminder
Of how strong they are
All on their own
Not as in shape as I thought I was
08 May 2012 4 Comments
in city life, emotions, exercise, leisure time, musings, nature, relaxation Tags: city lights, home, parks, walking
Shortly after I moved to Portland I realized I really didn’t need a car here, and so off it went, back to Minnesota; the daughter of a friend of mine desperately needed a car at the time, and she was more than happy to buy my very reliable Honda Civic. That left me using public transportation, which is abundant here, or else walking my way around town. After a few months of walking so much, I noticed my clothes fitting a little better (not so snug), and I could walk the four flights up to my apartment without feeling as if I needed oxygen. So when the new meet-up group I found recently posted an evening walk in my neighborhood, I signed up, even though the distance was listed as six miles. Piece of cake I thought – I walk that and more on a day of exploring or running errands or sometimes both. What I didn’t take into account was the uphill direction we would be going on our route, exploring Washington Park and the very hilly Southwest area of Portland. How bad could it be? Pretty bad, as I soon found that my leg muscles were really as weak as noodles. But then I had a second wind – yes, I thought, I just had to get into my stride and I’ll be just fine as we said goodbye to two members who (very wisely and I should have joined them) decided to stop halfway and take the train back to our starting point. Not me though, no I was going to finish this walk if it killed me. And as we started to climb and climb our way through Washington Park, I thought at one point that I could very well die this way – a heart attack would have been a sweet release at that point as my poor heart and lungs worked overtime to keep me going. I started lagging far behind the others, but a very nice and concerned couple took me under their wing, walking a bit slower so they could keep an eye on me. My thoughts of a pleasant and scenic evening walk were shattered with every step I took now; my mantra becoming “one more step” instead of enjoying the beauty of the park. But finally, just when I felt like I could lay down and die, we reached the summit of Council Crest. And I have to say, the pain was worth the gain – we were treated to a spectacular view of the city lights from what felt like a heavenly vantage point – my ears actually started to pop on the walk down. As we began the big sigh of relief walk downhill, I found myself muttering, “Are we there yet?” like an impatient child. All I wanted to do was get home and stop walking! And I finally made it home, where I shoved aside my obsessive neatness tendencies and threw my clothes on the floor, appreciating the comfort of my bed like never before.
My poem came true
06 May 2012 2 Comments
in astromony, emotions, musings, nature, poetry, weather Tags: colors, moon, painting, stars, sun
As I lay in bed, gazing up at yet another cloudy day through my skylight, a poem came to me. It was a gift, lifting my spirits, the words coming to me again after what seemed to be such a long absence. And as the day started to wake up, the clouds melted away like cotton candy, and I was blessed with the sunny day I wrote of at the end of my poem.
Sky
For days on end
I see a blanket sky
A white shroud above me
Draped over the blue
And the sun hides under the covers
Sometimes the moon peeks out at night
But then it quickly hides again
Along with all the stars
They play hide and seek with me
I hear them giggle like little children
Maybe the sky is more like a blank canvas
All raw and white
Ready for the artist to begin
Alright, I will paint the sky purple
Like my purple robe that lays at the end of my bed
No, I’ve decided on blue, the usual color of the sky
Like my blue yoga mat that sits in the corner
But that’s much too predictable and safe
Now the sky becomes bright green
Like the green rain jacket I wear
When the sky sheds its tears
And it cries here quite often
I try not to cry along with it
As I wait for the sky to fold up its blanket
And dazzle me with the true blue brilliance
Of sunny days
A sunny day at Saturday Market
07 Apr 2012 Leave a Comment
in art, city life, entertainment, food and drink, music, musings, photographs, shopping Tags: dancing, markets, street musicians
The sun came out! And it stayed out, all day long! And you know what happens then? Portlanders come out of their homes, sans umbrellas, hats and hoodies to venture to the spectacle that is the Saturday Market. This is the March to December gathering down by the waterfront that consists of artists selling their unique creations, food vendors offering everything from soup to nuts, literally, and the best part as far as I’m concerned, the music that fills the streets – from some very inventive street musicians to those asked to play on the two stages in the market. My first stop in the market was the head shop(yes we have plenty of head shops here – in fact, Mary Jane’s House of Glass has two convenient locations, one on each side of the river) that sells my favorite incense; only ten cents per cone with scents ranging from mango and cotton candy to sex on the beach and dragons breath – I’m still not sure how one knows what dragons breath smells like, but it smells pretty good to me. It was a busy day at the head shop, and I had to wait patiently to pay for my incense while the customer before me was getting their lovely glass bong wrapped. As I walked through the market, I could hear the music from the different street musicians playing all around me. A man was set up next to Skidmore Fountain, expertly playing a set of drums that were actually different sized buckets – and he had people dancing to the infectious beat. But the sound that really caught my ear was a group of young ragtag musicians not too far from the bucket man. They were quite a sight, all of them dressed in quirky clothing, and most of them sporting piercings and some very colorful tattoos. And the plethora of instruments they played was astounding – I saw a violin, a guitar, two banjos, a mandolin, a ukelele, someone played a saw, another played a washboard, there was a young man playing the spoons, and in the very back I saw someone actually playing a washtub bass. But the music that came out of this very large and unusual mix of instruments was really good, and it was fun and full of energy. The fervent applause after they played, and the pile of money in the open guitar case was testament to their talent. Then I wandered to one of the stages set up in the market, where I heard the funky sounds of an R & B band. I smiled to myself as I saw the lead singer; a young woman with a huge Afro, dressed in buckskin hiphuggers with beads on them, and a white bikini top of white fur. I felt transported back to the 70′s. And man, could that girl sing and dance! The song they were playing was “We Got the Funk”, and they sure did – the band played that funky music so well that people in the crowd were moving and swaying with the beat. There is nothing like listening to and watching live music; for me it is the mark of an absolutely perfect day, and nothing can compare.
Change of scenery
04 Apr 2012 4 Comments
in city life, food and drink, music, musings, places, poetry, reading, writing Tags: coffee, coffeehouse, muse
Usually when I read or write I prefer the quiet confines of my home. But there are those times when I just want to, need to get out of the house and immerse myself in the cacophony of people and places. And one of my favorite places is only a block away, a small local coffeehouse, with a vibe that calls to me at times. I can find myself becoming lost in a good book while the conversation and music swirls all around me, and sometimes I have to reach for pen and paper to write down thoughts that filter through it all. I never want to define myself as having to do this or that as a writer; sometimes I find I need a change of scenery in order to find my muse.
Running Away from Home
I slipped out
Through the open door
Down the hallway
Down the stairs
Down the street
I slipped through
The unlocked door
Of the coffeehouse
The place where some come
To meet and mingle
Others sit solitary
At a table
Under a canopy of hipster music
We are draped in coffee smells
Balancing bodies on tiny wooden chairs
I read pages out of a book
Then I glance at the street scene
People walking
People walking dogs
The espresso machine sounds angry
Clanging and hissing as it labors away
I scribble random words on the paper
A swirl of the coffee cup
A last swallow of the caramel coffee
Then I decide
I don’t want to run away from home
And I retrace my steps
Gifts from the rain
02 Apr 2012 5 Comments
in city life, musings, nature, photographs, places, seasons, weather Tags: flowers, rain, trees
I think I’m going to get a t-shirt made that reads: I survived the wettest March on record in Portland. Yes, all you kind people who told me, “It rains all the time in Portland – why would you want to move there?”, you are correct! It does rain here quite a bit, but today the sun came out for a long overdue visit, and I hurried out to take some pictures of the beauty that is a result of all that rain. I saw so many others with cameras in hand, giddy at the break from the rainy days. But truth be told, I will take the constant wetness of rain over the bone-chilling cold of a Minnesota winter any day. I forgive Portland for raining so much lately, and I still find myself in love with this lovely city of so much color.
