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Archive for the ‘poetry’ Category

Dog time

I am headed back to Minnesota for a visit in May, and I am looking forward to seeing my family and friends, and spending some quality time with them. And besides those lovely souls I am planning to spend time with, I am thoroughly looking forward to some dog time!

I will most certainly be seeing my daughter and son-in-law’s two dogs, Chopper and Boe Boe, as well as my son’s dog, named Buster, and I am making sure to pencil in time to see “my girl”, my collie named Maddie who I had to leave behind with my ex-husband when I moved to Portland. And sadly, I will also be sure to visit the grave site of my other dog, Kirby the lovable cocker spaniel, who recently passed away after a happy and fulfilled dog life of twelve years.

When I went back for a Christmas visit in December of 2011, I stayed at my daughter and future son-in-law’s home for most of that time. So I got to know Chopper and Boe Boe quite well, and was inspired by their day to day antics enough to write a poem about each of them. Boe Boe is the elder one of the dog household; he is a mellow mutt who had the run of the place until the little guy came around. And Chopper, with his boundless Jack Russell terrier energy is about as different from Boe Boe as night from day. But they have learned to love each other, with Boe Boe accepting Chopper into the family, and helping to breathe maybe a bit more life into the old boy.

Those of us who are blessed to experience the love of a pet, be it dog or cat or even a goldfish, know of the special bond that ensues from such a relationship. I look forward to having some very special dog time when I go for my visit in May; as I once more get to experience some unconditional love in the way that only our pets can bring.

Chopper and Boe Boe

Chopper and Boe Boe

 

 

My name is Boe Boe

I was here first

Before the little one

But it doesn’t matter

I let him think he is cuter than me

He wants to play

As puppies do

He gnaws on my neck

Thinking I will accept

his invitation to run and play

But I like to rest these days

I had my time of

playing and puppy-ness

So when the little one runs in circles

I curl in a ball and watch

And remember my days of such behavior

I am Chopper

My house is an obstacle course

I jump onto the couch

I am tiny, like a cat

So I run along the back of it

Then onto the other couch

And I leap!

I fly through the air to the chair

A perfect landing!

I do not require a net

I am nimble – a jumper of great heights!

Then I dig in the toy box

And take out many toys

And leave them

Later I will take out more toys

And leave those also

Then for fun

I run in and out of my kennel

But I don’t stay in there too long

Because sometimes they lock the door!

I hear a noise outside

Or is it in my head?

It doesn’t matter

I bark anyway!

All of this is very tiring

I finally rest

Until 5 a.m. – at the very latest!

Then it is time to get up

And run the obstacle course again

Kirby, now in Doggie Heaven

Kirby, now in Doggie Heaven

 

 

Memories of Kirby

 

A white ball of fluff

Tiny and nestled in a laundry basket

Comes home to join our family

The roly-poly puppy

Grows into a handsome dog

Who never quite learns to enjoy

Being bathed or groomed

But he behaves like a gentleman

So kind to all who care for him

 

If you happened to say the word “walk”

Be prepared to grab the leash

He always enjoyed the forays and adventures

Into the woods and down the roads

Seeming to find great pleasure

In scaring up a bird or two

 

Thoughts of food filled his mind

Constantly

His tastes ranging

From potato peelings

To rabbit poop

And anything in between

 

Not content to lie on the floor

Our furniture was his furniture

Our bed was his bed

Snuggling close at night

Sharing a pillow

Sharing love

 

And his body aged

As all bodies do

Now he romps once more

Seeing clearly, running freely

Uninhibited, unencumbered

He left us but left his love

And sweet memories of Kirby

Maddie girl

Maddie girl

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You’ve come a long way baby! Well, maybe not..

The words to a poem started coming to me this morning as I had my morning cup of coffee. I wanted to use the word “wellspring” in my poem, but I wanted to make sure that I was using it in the right context. I didn’t have my computer on yet, so I grabbed my paperback copy of the Merriam-Webster dictionary I had bought a few years back, before I realized that the online version was much more useful.

As I turned to the W’s toward wellspring, I happened to notice a definition listed for the word “well-endowed”; a word that I thought would never merit an entry in a dictionary. But there it was, and just for fun I read the definition, which soon turned my smile to a frown. I read the two definitions listed – 1: having plenty of money or property  and 2: having large breasts. Seriously? Really? Someone actually had the male chauvinistic, misogynistic gall to write and then allow the second definition to be published? It was almost as if someone had channeled the spirit of Noah Webster himself, from the early 19th century he lived in, and asked his definition of the word. Because this could not possibly be the work of any respectable 21st century writer; hadn’t we come so much farther than that?

So my question to Merriam-Webster would be, in the light of modern day equal rights for both men and women, where was entry 3, which would most certainly be:  having a large penis. That might help to take away the sting from the slap in the face that definition number 2 seems to be, and let’s give the guys their time in the spotlight too, right?

Memories of sunshine on a rainy day

After three glorious months of perpetual blue skies and sunshine, Portland now shows her winter colors of gray skies and silvery raindrops. But I finally received the package in the mail the other day, with the cds containing all the photographs from my daughter’s wedding. Perfect timing, and a rainy day project emerges as I sort through 700+ pictures taken on that special day.

Through a mother’s eyes they are all perfect pictures. How will I ever narrow it down to a reasonable number? It helped to have a pretty white photo album to place them in that only holds 100 pictures; that set some limits for me. The photo album was a very thoughtful gift from a friend, who knew I would appreciate a special album dedicated only to pictures from my daughter’s wedding. I thought of how small albums such as this as often called “brag books”, and during coffee with a friend this morning it became just that. I was giddy as we looked at the pictures together, pointing out family and friends to her, recalling memories from that lovely day.

And now I have a son-in-law, one who adores my daughter and treats her like a princess. As I looked through the many pictures, I could see so apparent the love they have for each other; the energy of their love radiating through the photographs. They will have their ups and downs, as all couples do. But I feel an intuitive sense of knowing that these two have a strong relationship made up of love, respect and sharing all things with each other. I’ve seen them together in the day to day events of life when I’ve stayed at their home, and they are going to be just fine. And a mother’s heart is reassured that her daughter’s heart is now in the gentle hands of a loving husband.

Ode to a Wedding

She walks down the aisle

Lovely and luminous

He waits to greet her

Glowing with love

They smile at each other

Heartfelt anticipation

Of words to be shared

In the presence of loved ones

The commitment of a lifetime

Once nestled deep in their hearts

Now bursts out in loving vows

As they shower onlookers with wedded bliss

The blushing and very happy bride

The wedding party

Saying their vows

The happy couple

Some time alone

So in love…

A proud and happy mom

Just in case she forgets the words

Having fun with the cake

The first dance as Mr. & Mrs.

Introducing… Mr. & Mrs. Workman!

A very tired flower girl

 

 

 

 

Moonbathing

It’s pretty evident I love the moon; the name of my blog pretty much says it all. The latest full moon came into being a couple nights ago, and is slowly starting to wane. But its luminosity is still brilliant, as the moonlight gently streams through my skylight and into my home. I woke to this lovely energy at 2 a.m., as the shaft of a moonbeam settled upon my rocking chair. I graciously accepted the invitation to do a bit of moonbathing.  Slowly climbing out of bed, I nestled into my chair, allowing my body to rest in the glow of the moon. It is said that the moon is a feminine energy, and I felt motherly love and comfort as I let the sweet moonlight rock me in its cradle.

I sit in the chair

Moonbeam wrapped all around me

Bathed in lunar love

 

Blogging, just because…

It’s time again to revisit the reason I started a blog in the first place, as I find myself pouting recently over the minute number of responses to my blogs – oh, get over it! is what I keep telling my overactive ego. I have fallen into the self-gratifying habit of checking and rechecking my site stats, poring over the numbers like a statistician and trying to figure out how to attract more readers. Maybe I should only publish posts during the week and not the weekends; seems like that’s when more people view my posts, during the week, and early on in the day, not later in the evening. Then I start to ponder, what do the people want? Obviously it isn’t always what I think is interesting or entertaining or enlightening. Otherwise I would have surely been on Freshly Pressed by now – and by the way, what does it take to earn that featured status? Oh, the sad manipulation, all to try and gain attention – just like a child.

I ask myself the most important question of all, why do I write in the first place? Is it to try and get somewhere, to an exalted place in the world of writing or blogging? Or maybe, just maybe, it is the real reason that I started writing – because I love to write! When I rediscovered the joy of playing with words, with having thoughts come to me in a poem or a musing or a short story, I found a part in me that had been hidden for so long. I found that I am creative! And I found the most enjoyable outlet for my creative juices, the art of writing.

And really, I do this thing, writing, because it is a kick to create something. I often find myself reading my poems and stories over and over, and I love them! And I have to know that even if I only connect with one solitary soul as I write my blog posts, then I have done a great thing in reaching that soul. We don’t have to do such grandiose acts of connecting with one another to affect joy and inspiration in our fellow human beings. Sometimes we can touch others in ways that we may never know. My words are out there, the energy behind them is out there, and that is the key to why I blog. Holding back what I have to give in lieu of attention getting defeats the whole purpose. Reaching in and letting myself create, and then sharing that creativity is what this blog is all about, no matter if one person reads it or no one at all.

Inspired by stories of love

Because I no longer watch TV I find myself reading voraciously. The written word is often where I discover stories of life and love, be they real or imagined. And in these stories I see how love can be between two people, love that is strong enough to withstand the ups and downs of life. Words like partner, soul mate and true love are reflected in these relationships. Yet I also come across such lovely pairings in my connections with others. My daughter and her fiance glow with this deep love; a true partnership where they are so involved in building a life together, conferring with each other on all matters, large or small. With those who love this way there is a degree of support in each other that is incredible, as they fit together like puzzle pieces and create the picture of their life.

Interlocking

 

The pieces are strewn out

All over Creation

And our Creator sorts all of us out

To fit us together

Setting aside possibilities of pieces

That just might join together perfectly

 

You appear in His hand

With your cut – out pattern

Of you

God gently sets you aside

As He picks up the jig – saw piece

Of me

And tenderly places us side by side

 

We are different shapes

And uniquely colorful patterns

But when God joins us together

Our puzzle pieces fit

Perfectly interlocked

Because of our love

 

We are part of a glorious picture

Of all that life and love is

I need to connect with you

To help complete that picture

You are my puzzle piece

The one who fits me

So perfectly

My daughter and her fiance, so in love…

Remembering Elliott

Those souls who have left this earth for heaven, or whatever we believe is beyond are missed and remembered by those close to them. But there are those souls who leave us that were able to affect a great number of people by their time on earth, and Elliott Smith is one of them. He touched us with his music; words creatively brought together that often spoke of heartache, of sadness, of anger and even hope in the midst of despair, paired with achingly beautiful melodies that often betrayed the mood of the words. He was able to get us to listen to the sad reality of life that it is sometimes, in the guise of musical notes that danced with joy. In doing this he created a following of listeners who empathized with him and felt that Elliott understood the pain in their own lives.

During his many live shows, Elliott brought himself even closer to his followers, as they hung onto every word and every note he played in utter admiration and devotion; all eyes and ears completely focused on the lone man  playing his sweet and precious music. Elliott had a gracious way of making his audience feel so involved in every show, so appreciated; never putting himself up on a pedestal. Song requests were shouted out, or oftentimes Elliott would ask what the audience wanted to hear. He would tell little stories that fed the camaraderie he had with his fans, and they felt as if they knew him intimately.

Despite all the drama and despair that was his lifetime – dealing with depression, addictions, and a sadly violent death – Elliott Smith gave all he could to the career he chose as a musician. He crafted his music with a perfectionist’s touch, and toured extensively to bring that music to all who wanted to hear him play. He showed us the qualities he possessed of hard work, integrity, generosity, and compassion in the man that he was, not letting his struggles in life hold back the gift he gave to us of amazing music, created from his very soul.

Elliott Smith would have been 43 years old today, and he would still be blessing us with lovely songs. In this world he is lovingly remembered by the timeless legacy he left of music, but he will also be remembered as a sweet and gentle soul who just wanted everyone  to enjoy his gift of song.

Memorial plaque of Elliott Smith that hangs in Lincoln High School in Portland, OR

Artwork done of Elliott Smith that hangs in the Crystal Hotel in Portland, OR

Their Friend

 

Every venue he plays

Becomes an intimate setting

As if he sits

With the audience

In their living room

He greets them with a shy “hello”

Then sits in the chair

The small man and his guitar

Swallowed up by the stage

He nervously picks at the guitar

And a song starts to emerge

The crowd cheers

Then a hush ensues

He holds them in the rapture of melody

The song ends

They cheer once more

A quickly spoken “thanks”

Is shared with his followers

They talk to him

Asking him questions

He politely answers

Someone shouts “I love you!”

“I love you too” he replies

And this exchange of love

Is what endears him to them

To every face in the crowd he is

Their friend who sings

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