Christmas, That Time of Year

Christmas, the festivity of the season excitedly awaited for, has come, and gone. It waits once again as it sleeps with all the rest of the celebratory relatives, waiting again to pop its head up and say "I'm back"!
I am fortunate to say my Christmas was spent with some superlative nouns peace and joy.
Auspicious to be able to purchase nice gifts for family and friends. Bountiful food on my table with conversation sometimes controversial,but all the same, the luxury of riches that no money can buy. This Christmas my daughter and son-in-law arrived in the morning hours as we sat around the Christmas tree and watched, and took pleasure taking center stage, opening gifts.
To be honest, I do not know what was more exciting, peeling and ripping the lustrous surprise each held, or watching the excitement on each participant.

I wish to express my heartfelt regards to each person out there. You do not have to be Christian to have joy and peace fill your heart during the holiday season just being another human being qualifies you.
Please pass this regard to every person you meet through life.
Christmas joy is not only given out during the holiday season, but every single day we spend on this Earth.
Give a smile to a fellow being and watch the magic begin!

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays each and every year.

Wesley the Owl

A baby owl was found one day
He became my son and stole my heart away
I dressed him in the finest linen
Frilly bonnet upon his head
Coach of the finest quality
The towns people would oh and ah
Stopping me to take a peak
The blanket went down
There goes the frown
They don’t make a sound
Cause this baby isn’t what they think

My son the owl
His eyes tell a story
As I look into his eyes
Peek a Boo, I see you!
Little Wesley the owl

Howt, howt, grah, grah
His way of saying I love you!
He is a part of my life
So please never say goodbye
My fuzzy little wide eyed boy!

Howt, Howt, Grah, Grah
I love you Wesley my son!
Howt, Howt, Grah, Grah

The Eve of Monday

On Monday night, I read from a site that brought a smile to my mind
The serenity in your picture depicted heaven
So now for the rest of the seven days, harmony greets me
Tapestry of words creates a masterpiece
Please feel free to bring more magic to the mind
Looking forward to see the world through the art of words

I chose to feel the spring that sprang within my heart

My Philosphy

I have been philosophizing about two things. The big book that is written for all of us. This is one of the things I think about daily. You know, that big book that has our name on it and we act out our life. My believe is that each of us have our very own book and tomorrow is already written.
Can we change this? Yes, to a point. We have the free will to make the best situation out of any situation good nor bad while on this Earth.

Then there is a believe of visualizing all we want and or need. I believe that this act of will has a price to pay. If one is willing to pay the piper, then do what you must.
While pondering on these two topics today, my conclusion is trusting in ones faith and helping yourself without hurting anyone or anything. But when I look back at what I wrote, what if someone does not believe in God? Does this philosphy still mean the same? If we want something bad enough, it will be?

There has to be some law in the universe of great. visualizing or praying for something must come from someplace. For example when life is given, death is given. There has to be a balance or else life would be even more topsy turvey then it is now. The Universe, or God takes this into consideration for some sort of balance. Can't have all good and no bad, or all bad and no good. This is another topic to speak about in the future.

Just be happy no matter what turmoil or peace we are living in. This is the key to a life we all want. Love yourself and the rest will fall into place.

I wish you and your families a "Happy Thanksgiving".

My Journey

Today I was reminded to look back at my lifes journey. One of my friends forced my soul and mind to meditate on my life A simple comment on my earlier works sent me on an excursion.

I was a newbee on a poetry site. Some of my poems were childlike, others full of old poison that was shedding day by day.
It showed in my poetry and in my newly found life.
I also have another gift that I always kept secret
Some call it a gift, but some with this gift call it a curse. For me personally, it is a beautiful rainbow.
Being privy to what is called visions, I was informed about my life ending at 74. Two weeks after this insight, a new found gift was added, poetry. I had to spread this beautiful gift with the world.
To some this is crazyness, but I only know the real truth about my gift of insight. It is like opening up extravagant wrapped packages as breath is held waiting for the climax.

A few weeks past since the crystal ball revealed my tale.
It starting unfolding like a queen size sheet ready to pretty up my bed.
I started looking at life through the eyes of the angels. My compassion, love, and zest for life grew like a seedling yearning for water and sun.

Standing here today, my gift of poetry has become sophisticated and refined.
There has been rumored among my colleagues that my style is changing . This is true. Waking up on a higher spiritual path is a gift from the gods. I worry less now. This alone is a present
As long as I have a roof over my head, everything is second. Recognizing that gratefulness can be as simple as seeing a morning bee has triggered a dominoe effect in my life.
Even though I do not have the means to buy certain things, they eventually find there way into my life. Gifts now come so frequently.
For this, I will remain grateful.

So making a long boring story as short as possible, poetry has changed my life for the better. I am curious if anyone reading my blog would like to join my chain and tell of their story.
Did poetry change anyones life for the better. I would be interested in hearing from you.
Or did something else life changing bring light into a once dark world.

Never to be forgotten

A man was lying in the street
I knew he was poor
White lose fitting garment
As immaculate as a morning sky
His eyes looked familiar
Kind loving and bright
Blue with white lights
Eyes were glowing
Wife was shown briefly
Dressed in black and white
Slender, dark hair
Beautiful thick wavy hair
A baby was born
I was told he was sick and dying
I asked if the wife knew
She would not understand
Not ready for this lifetime
The whole time, he was sad
Kinder gentlemen I will never meet
I dreamt of Jesus that beautiful night

Silence is Best

There lays within a tale to tell
With this tale war would ignite
An ornate gate, wrought iron, masterly and artistic
A face from the arts hides within
Dancing above their head, a skeleton key that haunts the soul
Many would parade its head for all to see
There is disagreement

The days become weeks, and weeks months
Lingering becomes a daily ritual
Each day the leather bound beauty teases to color
There is anger poisoning the world
Why can’t the animal hibernate through its journey?
Hopefully answers will reveal itself when we draw the last line

Feelings must stay deep within abyss
Wars will erupt
Friendships will crumble
Decision to stay silent is best prescription
Secretly language can still tell a tale
Just read between the lines

Justice is Coming

There is hate in this world lying heavy in the heart of man
More than machinery, we need humanity
Unity of us all
Bitterness of man has caused human kind to fall
Greed has poisoned our souls
Only the un-love hate
We think too much and feel too little
Kingdom of God is with all men
Let us fight for a new world
Do not despair, liberty will never perish
The good Earth is rich
Let us excavate all the goodness from this Earth
A voice is reaching around the world
We need mankind to eradicate hatred
There is a terra nova waiting to be re-born
All that we need is to love once again

November is Native American Heritage Month

November is Native American Heritage month. During this time, please take a moment to remember the people that prospered and flourished long before Europeans wandered onto the shores of North America. Also,time to remember and honor the cultures and traditions that have been handed down from generation to generation that continue thriving in their communities today.

Please read my poem "We are Man". It is written in pride,love, and admiration for the
Native Americans.

Natures Masterpiece

Nature’s eloquence carries notes of perfume
The finches’ song has taken flight in mind
Intoxicating scent of lilac brings even man to knees
A tree stretches grabbing birds by their wings
Did you often wonder why trees grow heaven bound?

Beauty grows and prospers beneath
Some are gifted to see nature in all its glory

Feel the splendor of wet grass growing under
Wind brushing cheeks
The splendor of the rose
Each petal winding to perfection
There is wondrous photography everywhere
Grace and gratitude through eyes of man
Forlorn those who do not see

We are Man

Pain and sorrow engraved upon canvases
The unknown keeps people in limbo
Ghosts of ancestors linger
Past experiences perpetually remain in tears
There is a longing to let go
Nature fights against the wind
Days of beauty with buffalo appear in thoughts

Ghosts of white still haunt our man
Will they ever look back and weep
Children know suicide all too well
Alcoholism is our compadre

We are man of the first kingdom
Children of the Gods
Hear cries weeping in wind
Awareness is education for our man

Upon the doors, allow perfection to flow
To listen to wind carrying silence
But sitting silent brings lessons to learn
Life is easy for the rich, yet path is to return
Road for poor is hard, but a better warrior molded

We are man
We are nature
We are the wind that blows
We are The Sioux tribe and speak Lakȟóta,
We are The Lakota Indians
We will always remain proud

Pumpkin Pick-in

At 54 years old I still get excited seeking the most desirable orange,  global beauty.
I am taking about pumpkin!

My dad and I had a tradition when it came to this sport.  We spent the day picking and choosing the most rounded perfect pumpkin nature produced that season. That evening dad took out his magical oil crayons drawing the most beautiful face on our pumpkin.  The day arrived I so dreaded it was time for my dad, Matty Boy, to go back home. Not only will I miss our pumpkin hunting, but the world will be minus one good human being. Now our ritual is handed down to my daughter and I.   Dad may not be here physically  but I drag his spiritual body to the patch!

One day in particular brings such warm and fuzzy thoughts.   My daughter Denyce, now an adult, decided to go hunting for pumpkins at a farm.  This was the first time I experienced picking lovely gourds directly from the vine.  You would have thought I was in heaven.  My face was hurting from smiling so much.
There was Denyce and I in the middle of this, acre upon acre, heaven on earth.  I was becoming exasperated
because we could not find the beauty contest winner we were out seeking.  Just then I decided to call upon
Matty Boy.  "Dad, find for us a beauty queen winner".  I went one step further and asked the impossible.
"Dad, Denyce loves the color pink.  "Can you find a pink pumpkin"?
As fast as I said this, my eyes suddenly became  heat seeking missiles as they zoned in.
The suns rays pouring down from the heavens illuminating a pink pumpkin. Trumpets from angels could be heard! There it was like a Cecil B. DeMilles movie.  Yeah, you heard me right, a pink pumpkin!

Every time we go pumpkin pick-in, I call my dad to stand besides me.  In a sense our father-daughter bonding still stands.
So Matty Boy, do your thing, because today, I am going pick-in.  Get your walking shoes on and some fairy dust, for I am seeking a purple pumpkin.  Are you up for the challenge?

The Heeblas

Mother and father are divorcing and the family would never be the same.  Summer of 1998 is the last time I would ever see my friends and school.  Not that I loved school, but I will miss this school.  It’s the only one I knew since kindergarten.

The comfort of all my friends and routine of life would surely be missed.

Dad was moving to Chicago not only because of the split, but because of his new job.  This was one of the huge reasons for their departure.  My brother Joseph and I will be moving to Colorado living with mom.  No more beach, no more Jack’s Shack were we would all meet after the beach, and no more seeing my father on a daily basis.  We were lucky if we would see him twice a year.  I do not even want to think about Christmas.

Summer in Colorado seem to fly by faster than a witch on a broom.  We did manage to meet some nice friends, and we had a new hang out at the local pizza place in town.

My new friend Donna, my brother Joseph, and I walked home together from school every day, but this time, we decided to take a different route.  Donna said this way was quicker.  Before heading home, we decided to stop for some ice cream.

Half way home, I could not finish my ice cream, so a few feet up was a drainage ditch under the curb were I decided to ditch the rest of my ice cream.  Running ahead I bent down saying farewell to my treat listening for the splash of water.  This time no sound was heard.  Were those hundreds of the tiny glowing eyes staring back at me?   I thought I would piss my pants running to catch up with my brother and Donna. “Donna, you are going to think I’m crazy, but I swore I saw tiny glowing eyes”.

I was already contemplating losing my new friend.  She would think I was crazy, but what followed was, not what I expected.  “They’re called Heeblas; they live down there”. Donna said.  
 I walked the rest of the way home in a fog.  It felt like my body was going one way and my head was going the other .  What I wanted to say was, “what are you talking about”.  Being the new kid in town, I dare not say a word.

Donna insisted we walk home the same as yesterday.

I was so scared, but I didn’t want to admit my fear.  Passing the drainage ditch, Donna stopped and seemed to be talking into the ditch.  All of a sudden she was no longer there and hundreds of red glowing eyes with big claws trying to grab us to their world of darkness.  Joseph kicked one of them and we managed to get away.

The next day in class Donna was absent, and that concerned me. Getting ready to ask Donnas’ friend Joyce if she spoke to Donna today,  but the last I remember was my head feeling heavy. I was very tired!  Sleeping well that night didn't t exist!

The screaming sound of a hawk flying by startled me.  As I lifted my head back from my nap, my classmate’s eyes were glowing, and the last thing I heard was the sickening sound of claws opening and closing like a lobster as they all closed in on me!

Memories

Memorial to light that shines, guiding fallen angels to glory

Traveling, can’t find my way, the great metropolitan

Heads upon billows as twins dine with lady of harbor

Train brings fright, loneliness, faces of the unappealing

Does any one know I have to travel alone

Lost in a place don’t want to be

Looking up at the sky, the angels they help find

Asking man, woman, speaking in monotone they sleep among ashes

Longing for mother and her doe

Playing part in a horror tale, her acting days are through

Want to go home, and limbo is my new

Cascade of tears form beautiful lace patterns

Cold slaps of concrete pave the way for her

Prayers are heard held tight bringing comfort to dark

Some find tranquility, feeling temperatures of asphalt remain

Cherubs scatter pearls comforting ocean

Rest will welcome tired

Who stood before, eternally protect sleeping angels

Vestiges of souls mothers will embrace

Imprints of Mystery

There lies a light somewhere behind the mind

Brilliance of a super nova

Lighting the way for thousand souls

Do we hear the way of others?

Do we see the way of life?

Spectacular presence surrounds the universe

Is there love where we hate?

Is there hate where we love?

The answers are found between the lilac groves

Where wind is stuck for many years

This is where solace can be found

Seeds are planted; continuance of life

Birds fly with endless possibilities

Children grow

The why we do not know

It is a never ending dream

The Window

Vermin has no place in life

Dream fog propels into enchantment

Filth piled high emulating mountains in Swiss Alps

Spider web, medium of art creates delicate French lace.

Momentarily transfixed as environment waits execution

Confetti drops from sky; colors mesmerizing.

Browns, ochre, sienna, taupe army of visual delight

Sparrows, mightiest infinitesimal warriors defending foraging rights and territory

Robin, warrior taking center stage

Pretentious general boasting

Cardinal flaunting brilliant reds sits upon lilac bush.

Color disperses, center attraction, viewing singular shade.

Friends sing melodically, entertaining at noon.

Squirrel spastically throws delicate figure, seeds spray to ground,

Feast diverted elsewhere

Crowd disperses heaven bound, taking refuge from passersby’s.

State of pleasure interrupted

Hardship surrounds woman or does it?

All Over Again

In the garden she buries and forgets man

Sense of touch roots, creating a new world

Everyone is invited if there not too busy

Top is spinning, colors opaque, high pitch whine

She cries, am I the only one observing!

Why would they deliberately miss the melody?

But she is crippled over her garden

Conducting an orchestrated balance

There comes a time white freezes over

She joins melancholy frame

Once a purple delight lasting in its hibernation

The window gave her show all season

But alas it’s through

She never forgets gift they sent

Curtain of heaven passes each day

Darkness lifted as the old man sleeps

Coloring like a child again, tongue included

She smiles, smelling perfume

And the Willow Weeps

Falling,

  Spiraling

     Abyss eats a corpse

Darkness becomes friend

Iron and manure placed on pulse points whiffing perfume

Are those roots dancing with devil?

Wine passed around me, you and the thing

Intoxicate make dizziness newest dance craze

Mildew surrounds senses sun up, sun down

Dredging up past lives

Tears fall upon earth watering weeds, perhaps wild strawberries

When organic, lies we hear

Promises never kept

How ironic living can be

Parading facades about town

Will children learn

Will earth morn

Will we ever be alive

Just a piece of sand blowing in wind

Beautiful flowers, or are they

Children will forget

How much that makes us weep

Watching, listening, roll over and over and over

I’ve had enough

Blind with light

Child Has a Secret

The woman sees things hidden from most

A child transformed into motherhood

Vision shows me all

Upon my lap the child smiles donning angel wings

Innocence shrouds her with every cell of flesh

Girls converse with luminous familiarity

Treasure box fetches applause as curtain drapes down exposing nudity

The audience holds their breath

Hummingbird don’t fly tonight but lay upon clouds

For you are the sacred pollinator symbolizing rebirth

Behold diamond in the ruff

Open your precious womb

Presenting Madonna with open arms

Swaddle hummingbird, never let it go

Just Another Day

 Darkness wraps constricting tentacles making every day living complex

 Depression becoming comrade singing songs of nonsense

 Lick up liquor dirty swains with matching finger filth.

 Sun presents colors of spectrums blinding rainbow

 Script rolled tight, tattered, lullaby hideous at present.

 Pretty ladies dancing, glowing like jack-o-lanterns under full moon light

 Glorious woman tranquil against field of hay looking magnificent

 She believes righteousness of religion

 Scaling life’s mountainous obstructions

Here we go again!

 Never giving up; does not give up either 

 Obstinate little creature!

 Heard the same lyrics till head exploded

Can they be quiet!

 Faced another day, but can’t figure strength

 Decades have passed familiarity keeps warm

 An abyss starving, giving indigestion once again

 Spits out like poison

Touché

Give Him One More Chance

He walks through metropolitan town granddaughter surgically attached to hip
Wandering aimlessly looking for lost and found
His mind is gone

Searching through rubble, archeologist he claims
Take peak in trash cans maybe you'll find me there
Catch me if you can, heard audibly in the wind
Baby don't cry, poppa will find his mind tomorrow

Clothes frail and thin, man in old folks home
Conversations with presidents, dignitaries, he gets to choose
Dinning with aristocrats, sits in formal way
Eyes roll up like tattered shades 
They say he caught a fit that’s the conclusion

They give him pretty pills to eat at noon
He found his mind while dining
No grandchild to spend days with
Presidents don’t hob knob acting as guest

Neither famous archeologist can he claim

Give the man one more chance, cause he wishes he hadn't!

                                               

World Alzheimer's Month

An awareness of World Alzheimer's Month was unknown to me.  When a disease does not hit you personally, we as humans, are unaware and oblivious to certain marks of respect, and I am guilty of this act.
One of my poetic acquaintances familiarized me with this reality.  She also has a poetry blog and posted acknowledgements of this horrible disease by redeployement of  poetry.

Please visit her blog at:  lifeindegrees.blogspot.com. 
If you are need information about Alzheimer's, follow the links below:

http://www.alz.org/, http://www.alzfdn.org/

Why

I am not going to discuss the hurricane that just rode along the East Coast.  The media did more then enough
hype.  Yes, there were places and people that were hurt and devastated, as I am not taking this lightly.
I am here today to discuss why bad things happen and continue to happen to some superlative human beings.

My friend and sister Barbara  is kind, sweet, just an all around terrific person. 
Barbara is not my sister through blood, but through a spiritual bond of friendship.
As some of us know sisters do not have to be born to the same mother we share. Bad things keep happening to them and their family and I am sick of it!  This weekend Barbara's husband lost his father unexpectedly.    When a family member is sick and ailing going in and out of hospitals, it is no surprise what is waiting around the corner.  Death is never easy, but when it is inevitable, it can be more expected and prepared for.
In some cases, family members pray for the death of their family member, as they will no longer suffer.
This incident blew the family out of the water.

Then on Sunday, due to the hurricane, a tree fell on their home of nearly 20 years.  Where four children, three girls and one boy grew to fine adults.  My girlfriend and her husband grudgingly at the time,moved from Queens to Long Island.  As with all change it can be initially difficult.  At the time the parents felt this was the best decision for their growing family, as the old neighborhood was no longer a place to raise children safely.
As time tells all tales, it was the best choice and they never looked back.
When I heard of this, I wanted to scream and scream and scream.  You do get the picture!!
WHY!!  Why do good people have bad things happen to them. 
I do know the why, but most people do not want to hear, nor would they understand, and I can not blame them.

I do thank God that no one in the home was hurt and yes, that is good news.  First the unexpected death, then the damaged home within 24 hours. 
I ask all that read this, to please say a special prayer to God or who ever you place your hands in for comfort.  Pray for joy and peace to enter this home and never leave.  They have had enough!
Thank you to all that spent the time to pause and say a special prayer for this wonderful family.

Walk With Me by the Water

Walk with me by the water as we reflect yesterday

The path is a bit thinner, as our bodies thicken

Our hands when they touch transparent and cold

But our hearts are alive with life

Walk with me by the water; don’t be frightened by what we see

A couple that is now one

Wrinkles of wisdom artfully sketch our canvas

Reflective memories bring tears

Walk with me by the water with hopes and joy

As we watch our family grow

Children bring grandchildren, waxing and waning just like the moon

Welcoming the etching of life

Walk with me by the water

Walk with me in life

Walk with me for eternity

As we move through all that is heaven

Those Monsters Still Haunt

A bottle of bourbon slipped from fingers

Gurgling audibly escaping through parched lips

Thrown through a glass window only to escape on the other side

The young girl ran from institution of education

It was heard even at old age, school was not for her

Out of breath, but still running, a Victorian home was found

There were sounds that chill the bone

A silhouette of a man that turned hair to pallid grey

A twist of the body found him vanished

At least she was not naked

But the dam phone was gone

Managed to borrow one from the sky

The mother was home, but the front door was always closed

Those sounds came back to haunt her

Explanation on the waking morning remained mysterious

Monsters were still pursuing the old lady

Now the answers were popping as new buds greeted the rain

Silver cord pulled so abruptly causing a tumbling effect

There were beads of sweat that decorated the temple

Give me a second to compose myself

The answer was always there

Taking a deep breath, she sighed

The Twinies

Many full moons ago our fore fathers..  Only kidding.  No seriously, when I was a child our cousins Barbara and Theresa, the twinies,  would visit once a week, or my family would go visit there family.
They were family on my fathers side, in fact, Matty Boy's (my dad) sisters family.

In the sixties, this was common practice.  Family unit still existed unlike present times.  I am an Italian descendant and in Italian families, visiting your relatives once or twice a week was common practice.
Grandma would stir sauce over the stove for hours.  Her meatballs would fall apart. 
I could still taste and smell the intoxicating aroma.  When you woke up on a Sunday morning, the whole neighborhood would reek of gravy (tomato sauce) and roast beef.  As I am writing, I can so easily go back in time and still smell that fabulous fragrance.

This week I was propelled back in time and I am desperately trying to stay there or at least lets meet half way.  The twinies and I got together Tuesday for an all day visit. 
Twice a year we try to make a special get together.  When we come together, all time stands still.
We are transported back in time and are little girls again, but this time with boobies and hormonal disorders.
Oh well, I guess you can't have it all.  Anyway getting back on track, we do not skip a beat.  Forty years ago now belongs to the present and we continue where we left off.

We can talk and do talk for hours on end.  Sometimes we get sentimental and cry, but the crying only brings us smiles.  They are good memories.  They make such a brat out of me when we go out.  Barbara and Theresa spoil me rotten!!  I am so grateful for the many gifts they give me.  Gifts are not only physical, but  are also from the heart and soul and those are the best souvenirs a human being can give!

I stand here today and everyday, a grateful person.  Life at times does not give us cotton candy and ponies,
so embrace the good moments and hold as firmly as you can.  Tuck it away for tomorrow, for when the dark arrives, the light will soon come peeking around the corner.   If we allow yesterday's celebrations to shine forth, life can be just a bit more pleasant.
What I am trying to say is bring the good forward and leave the bad behind.  If we practice this, life will seem a bit easier!

Land of Freedom

It is evening and I am free

Realization of flight is quit me

The home was blue and green, eye candy of the abodes

Curious George had nothing on me for I was the blue ribbon winner

Sailing back, eyes bugging out as childhood cartoon

The home was my fantasy

Colors so vivid making me cry and Tyler the bulldog came to greet

Was I in a cathedral, because there is no end to the ceiling?

Now an understanding came to my brain

Marvelous seashells with a vortex of lines

Bleached white gave a sanitized look lending esthetics to the home

I gasped at the sight, but just then….

   Did she see me? 

      The woman who owns the home

As I flew out towards the door, she smiled

Saying salutations to a small bull dog

Flying back to my land raining like every eve

Memories

Traveling, can’t find my way, the great metropolitan

Heads upon billows as twins dine with lady of harbor

Train brings fright, loneliness, faces of the unappealing

Does any one know I have to travel alone

Lost in a place don’t want to be

Looking up at the sky, the angels they help find

Asking man, woman, speaking in monotone they sleep among ashes

Longing for mother and her doe

Playing part in a horror tale, her acting days are through

Want to go home, and limbo is my new

Cascade of tears form beautiful lace patterns

Cold slaps of concrete pave the way for her

Prayers are heard held tight bringing comfort to dark

Some find tranquility, feeling temperatures of asphalt remain

Cherubs scatter pearls comforting ocean

Rest will welcome tired

Who stood before, eternally protect sleeping angels

Vestiges of souls mothers will embrace

Tales of the Race

The check is in the mail

So I can’t go out for the sale

I’ve waited all week

For someone to say

The check is in the mail

A woman is late

With her period to date

Months go by

Boy does she cry

The oven is baking

Cause there is something mak’in

Wake up and smell the bacon

That ain’t no pig in the oven

You are the sun

You are the moon

I can’t go on

Without you I will die

Around the corner comes a skirt

Silk stockings and stiletto shoes

I need her

I want her

Now where was I

I need her

I want her

Promises not to fib any more

Heard this time in and time out

Don’t fill my ears with torture

Cause I finally done with the rat race

So I sit in my corner

As I act like a mourner

Waiting for time to end

Cause I’m done with the human race

Why I Write Poetry

• I can not answer for other poets, but I can tell you why I write poetry.
My gift started late in life. One day I was watching a commercial and the word IT was shown in different ways. All of a sudden, out of know where, words, or should I say a poem was going off in my head. I ran to get a piece of paper and wrote as fast as the words came. The next day for two weeks, poems were literally exploding in my head.
I could not keep up with it. In fact I asked that they stop for a while. I was getting a headache! Who I was talking to did not matter. I felt like I was going insane!

At this point in time I wrote 50 poems in two weeks. I have never read nor wrote poetry in my life. Was not the least bit interested at the time.
I was confused at why this was happening, but as time went by, I understood the why.
Poetry is a gift given to me to not only share with the world, but to dislodge old, crusty, stuck poison within.
My poetry is based on life's experience, dreams, and visions. Each time a poem is written, I reflect on its subject with a deep understanding that goes into my core.
The problem may still exist, but now I have an understanding, and because of the understanding, I can now deal with it and get rid of my old luggage.

I now have a love that goes deep for poetry. There is a gratitude for this great gift. Yes, I would love to become an author of poetry, but right now I am enjoying life with a great understanding far beyond most. I also wish not to forget the lovely people I have met through poetry.

Trembling in the Wind

When you think the trees are dead, they surprise us once again

When the ocean meets the shore a new world greets

When the children’s laughter dies, does life still carry on

When suffocation replaces the life we knew, do we turn blue

When we throw poison in the wind expect to be poisoned slowly

When all is dark, she sits trembling in the wind

If she is given another chance, will it be her last

If a mother gives her love, will love give to her

If heaven reveals its beauty, do we depart prematurely

If the owl loses its way, do we lose ours

If most agree it’s fabulous, why do most agree it is

She sways high up in the boughs trembling in the wind

Then the day arrives and all is fine

Then she sleeps so soundly

Then her family cries

Then her family dies

Then she is carried away trailing their billowy splendor

Then we are left here trembling in the wind

Morning Conversation

Silence of morning played, but as usual activity of familiar nature launched its play

Mention of disaster droned on as  hair on arms stood at attention

A surprised individual was in shock as he announced question

She could not recall any dream or vision that matched this day’s disaster

As the sun positioned itself higher and higher, there was a comfort level
Recollection of the past evening conquered original thought

Then a memory of her sister brought something into light

There was a terrible site of bricks and mortar that lay dead in the streets

The next block was no block it all seem the same

She waited for a bus that never was

She realized there was no way out

There was not a soul out except her and her sister

Then a thought of fright came to her sense of blight

Was this the original question that I so quickly brushed off like a flea?

Was this vision something completely different?

Will there show another face?

Tonight starts beginning of something new

Will the stars shine bright; please tell me
Every night she plays the same game

Death, destruction, birth, and disfigurement

Why was this given to her?

Some questions cannot be answered

Here we go again praying for something good

There was a slight smell of floral

Drifting deeper and deeper in the land that she adores

It was morning again

Through the venetian blinds glints of sun
Tiny particles riding down the rays

Could not recall the nights magic

Throwing off the blankets she smiled

Morning was like all the rest, mindless and calm

Silence repeated the morning causing meditative state of mind

A thought of the evening came to psyche

This time she decided to stomp the eerie crawly creature

The best decision she made in a very long time

Morning and the rest of the day was glorious

If this could be every day
Beautiful wrapping paper only to look at
She decided very quickly that beauty is better when we have freedom to explore

"My Poem Things Did Get Better"

On occasion, I will read over my old poems and edit my work.  Time gives the advantage of perfecting oneself and learning to be masterly over ones art.
One in particular I came across was "Things Will Get Better".  When re-reading this poem, I could see tears leaving their ink splatters across the page.  I could feel the sorrow.

I felt this poem was not to be touched, for it showed how far I have come in life's spider web.  I have left myself far behind and walk upon a different road altogether.  For that, I am grateful.
This is something that does not come easy.  We must be conscious of every action and thought through out each and every day.  Of course there will be days that we slip and that is where the human side comes into play.   Put yesterday in your pocket and use today as a learning instrument and guide.

After reading one of my old poems, "Things Will Get Better" was created.  Now I truly understand why the gift of writing and poetry was given to me as I matured.  I now appreciate the ups and downs in lifeand the lessons given.
  I stand here today, a much  content, joyful person, with great understanding of nature and mankind, and for that I will always remain grateful.
My poetry permits me to see what is going on in my life and it enables me to throw away the poison that permeates within.

With each poem I write, a great lesson is learned and understood.   
 I may never be recognized as an "Emily Dickerson", but my gift was a gift sent from the heavens giving me the opportunity to see the light and not live in darkness.
I hope all that reads my poems will enjoy!  For me the greatest gift is sharing my work with the world.

Things Did Get Better

Thoughts were written a time ago

There was sadness abound each line

This is the feelings when pen went to paper

Reason gift was given is now understood

Each dot of ink poisons extracted

Tasting foul reminders of yesterday

One particular story sheds mountains

One can see how far road was taken

Channel behind merely a pin dot of dark

What lies ahead is a knight in shining armor

When children fight dragons

Justice is a field of wildflowers

Things Will Get Better

Face book and reunions that’s her thing!

When you live in a mansion the ten o’clock news is good

Or is it

For some it brings on orgasms

Same old news replays over in my head

I’ve fallen down the hill

It’ll get better heard thousand of times

Threw up my sword when the song was sung

These days I am silent and I smile

My thoughts go into a secret garden

Script was rolled tightly when baby was born

Can’t believe I’m on other side of fence

Still crying, still depressed

Believe that I would never take back the scars of the dragon?

  Either do I

   But it’s true!

Would never change a thing

A party of the grandest is waiting

Do you hear the applause?

I am home

One Love

Intonations of silence deep within chambers
Thousand stallions running, thunderous freedom
To feel childlike awakes spirit embodying our soul
A force so strong, never expecting a taken prisoner
Bath in warmth, feeling ecstasies tentacles
Entwining of the serpents confirms she is there

Taken for granted our gifts are given
Vines fall gracefully from the heavens
The lover does not grasp unyielding
She falls unfamiliar, a cloak of shadow swathes
Peeling one layer a turn, she converts with earth
A sunflower resurrects a virgin once more

Untitled

Man whistles tune; the reeds freeze to listen

Woman breast feeds infant while piglets suckle

Man intoxicated from lilacs perfume; lilacs smell man and shutter

Human race killing for greed, jealousy, or just because

Kingdom of beast kills for survival

Now tell me, who is the higher hierarchy?

Who is learning from who?

Chain of command was named by man

That scares me

What about you

My Poem "Sweet William"

This particular poem may be a bit to grasp.  I was a guest at a baby shower.   This poem is a representation of my memory.
The curtains represent a pause in the writing.  My wish is to captivate my readers and bring them to another scene.  If you read "Hold Those Ghosts", my poem will bring a better understanding of "Sweet William".
I had such a nice time and wanting to immortalize my memory, what better way then a poem!

Please enjoy the strange and captivating poem "Sweet William"

Sweet William

Wind whispers through meadow of wildflowers picking up dead silence

Femininity hatching second chick

Mystery does not exist, they all hold crystal balls

Hen’s gossip caught in whirlwind frenzy

Cackling as fast as time permits

Guest of honor arrives; husband and baby towing

Ambrosia fit for a queen’s pallet

There is air escaping dominoes’ does its magic

Curtains draw receiving preparation for the second show

Audience sits at attention

Tiny treasures are hung

Jaws drop like puppets commencing to speak

Breaths held as excitement claims center stage

Her head cocked hearing miniscule voice

William, sweet William I hear and obey

William buzzing with animation

Tell her this and tell her that

Validation of life’s journey knows no lies

Water spills so gracefully

Adoration for woman brings great elation

Wind was now still

Silly stupid grins departing one by one

My book once again tells a novel tale

William, sweet William, you overflow my cup

The Farmer and the Girl

The marginal thunder has create an evening curtain

Landscape infinitely rolling painted Iris Moss

There is a house high on a hill

Wooden recluse brought tears

A pontification veiled the woman’s thoughts

Cortex of the medulla oblongata gave her weakness

The side’s steps leading to the kitchen were just as rickety

Are these the staircase to heaven heard about?

Once inside a familiarity painted her with comfort

The attic intrigued with wonderful smells of musty treasures

Collections of nostalgia flooded emotions

Feeling and touching with the same amour of lovers

Aged jars with yellowed labels, handsomely painted bees

Cobwebs scalloped window sills resembling Victorian lace

Just then splendor of nature caught her eye

There were honeycombs

Assumption she was sure was correct

Feeling melancholy when she was whisked away

There remained strong feelings within the cells

Evening curtain tucked away

Sunlight saturate each window

She had to ponder about the evening’s adventure

Came to a conclusion, awareness of bees

She was a farmer no doubt….oh she was a farmer

Last Chance

Day brings forth beauty
Evening masks events of time
Totality of human race brings forth sorrow

The tunnel harbors change
Squeezing tighter and tighter towards egress
There will be dawn,
Another time
Spectacular light

Humanity alone brings humanity to tears
The light is brilliant!

Facades

Life spent looking through windows

Much time wasted staring at open portals

Colorful existence grinds down to soul

Obsession becomes reality, as reality becomes nil

Exceptional beauty parades through the day

Night time veils

As mouth is sewn closed ,torture is friend

Morning once again the butterfly dances

Ropes twist so violently

Oceans roar and become tiny frothing bubbles

Days, weeks, months spin uncontrollably

It all passes too quickly

Life is a façade do we not see

Hold tightly emulating tiny seedlings

The beauty now is viewed in rages

Jealousy turns to tears

Stain glass turns milky and opaque
 Window becomes further from view

For what we see is not always what we get

Life is a great façade

The ocean is crystal clear, no longer hiding its victims

Hold Those Ghosts

Saturday came and went as quickly as the wind whispers through the meadow of wild flowers then picks up with dead silence. 
My best friends daughter is having her second child.  Today most mothers-to-be want the mystery of their babies sex, so we already know her bump cradles a precious baby girl.
The baby shower was long awaited, as I picked out my outfit, chose my jewlery, sorting out from my many shoes, the perfect color with my new top.

The guest of honor arrived promptly with her husband and son.   All three gave their warm hellos.  Then my friends daughter sat down and we devoured our lunch. 
Husband and son stayed to have lunch.  They were hungry too!
Right after the last bite, they repeated the same dance; this time exiting as they gave warm hugs and kisses out the door.

Yes, the baby shower was buzzing with excitment as the queen of the day was honored with gifts.  Of course there were oohs, and ahs as she held up the tiny princesses treasures. 
It was your usual baby shower filled with hens cackling and gossiping.  On the end of one table there was activity that was temporarily private as I was in communication with another world.  Spirits care that there is a room full of woman!  They just want to get their message through.
 
Hi, I'm William!!  That was the first conversation I heard.  Instinctively I knew who to give the message to   followed by three different names all female.  Then he said ask her about my turtles!  When the spirit William said this, he sounded like a little boy.  All full of giggles and mischive.
Linda could not believe what I was saying.  Each name and information given, she was bursting with excitement.
William went back home one year ago a few days before Fathers Day and this was his families first holiday without dad.  Linda confirmed all the information with her best friend.  William was her friends father.

Fathers Day this year and every year after will be spend with tears of joy and happiness for their father.
I understand Williams urgency to get the message off to his family.  That morning his family went to the cemetary to morn and William only wanted his family to know he was extremely happy.
The party was dying down and guest were starting to depart. Linda and I said our goodbyes.   With tear in her eyes, Linda thanked me for the special gift I gave her and her best friends family.

Each time I am given messages from the departed, I never know how the person will react, but so far all were joyous.  I no longer worry people will think I am crazy.  I have been given a beautiful gift and as I  put a smile on someone, I smile twice as hard, for my gift is the bestest present I ever got!

Good night sweet William, good night!