PUMPKIN PICK-IN

At fifty-four (54) years old, I still become excited like an anxiety victim.  Heart pounding, dry mouth, seeking out the most desirable orange, global beauty!  I am taking about a pumpkin!

My dad and I had a tradition when it came to this sport.  We spent the entire day picking and choosing the most rounded, perfect pumpkin nature produced that season.  As usual we would find that perfect specimen.  Then on the way home from the farm, there was an ice cream soda waiting for me and the neighborhood ice cream parlor.  That evening our tradition continued as dad took out his magical oil crayons drawing the perfect face on our gourd.  It was a special day I looked forward to as dad and I would do some awesome bonding as father and daughter.

The day did arrive I so dreaded.  It was time for my dad, Matty Boy, to go back home.  Not only will our pumpkin hunting be missed, but the world is minus one good human being!

Now our ritual is passed down to my daughter Denyce.  My daughter and I go gourd hunting with the same excitement I had with dad.  My father may not be on this Earth physically, but I drag his spiritual body to the patch

Last week brings such warm and fuzzy thoughts, as Denyce and I went on our quest, but this time we went to a farm where you actually cut the pumpkins from the vine.  Unlike a big field of orange hues as far as the eye can see.  You would have thought we died and went to Heaven as we went around this huge farm exploring before we actually cut our victim!  Our faces were hurting from smiling too much!

After a while and I mean a great deal of time has passed, Denyce and I were in the middle of this acre upon acre of pumpkins.  We were becoming exasperated, for our beauty queen winner could not be found!  Just then I decided to call upon the great pumpkin king, my dad!  “Matty Boy, find us a country fair winner with blue ribbons and all”!  Then I went one step beyond and asked the impossible.

“Dad, Denyce loves the color pink, can you find a pink pumpkin for us”?  As fast as I said this, my eyes suddenly became heat seeking missiles as they zoned in to a certain area.  The sun’s rays poured down from the heavens illuminating a pink pumpkin!  Trumpets from angels could be heard!

There it was all by itself.  It reminded me of a Cecil B. DeMilles movie.  When the clouds dispersed and the sun shinned in all its glory!!  Yeah, you heard me right, a pink beauty queen pumpkin!

You can bet that from now on we go to the patch, we will call on the king himself!

So Matty Boy, do your thing for next year ,and this is a big one.   Get your feathered wing ready and you’re down slippers too, for there might be a bit of walking for this one.  This job might call for some fairy dust too, because next time I want a purple pumpkin!!!  Are you up for the challenge my dear old father?

Keku's Poetry and Expressive Writing: Pumpkin Pick-in

Keku's Poetry and Expressive Writing: 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 trad...

Keku's Poetry and Expressive Writing: My Mother is Me! By Laura LaVeglia

Keku's Poetry and Expressive Writing: My Mother is Me! By Laura LaVeglia: There was a time in younger life when I not only made fun of my mother, but really did not fully understand where she was coming from.  Mom...

Keku's Poetry and Expressive Writing: Lulu the ProstituteI am Lulu a prostitute who liv...

Keku's Poetry and Expressive Writing: Lulu the Prostitute
I am Lulu a prostitute who liv...: Lulu the Prostitute I am Lulu a prostitute who lived in the 1800’s Velvet and pearls were worn upon skin Flowing like rivers drapi...

The Unofficial Blog for Brit Writers and Writers Everywhere!: My Mother is Me? By Laura LaVeglia

My Mother is Me! By Laura LaVeglia

There was a time in younger life when I not only made fun of my mother, but really did not fully understand where she was coming from.  Mom would constantly mention how fast life speeds by.
A beautiful event or holiday would always end each sentence the same
"God Willing".  In moms world this meant if she lived for mention time or place.

I stand here today looking into my magic mirror and the image of mom appears!

 I am my mother at fifty-five years old it is my time to worry about the future!
Mom is getting on in age and it saddens me to see her not the same fast witch on a broom.  I swore at times that women had a machine or secret ring enabling her to go here and there with the speed of light.
Today emphysema took her magic locking it away for ever.

In a week and a half a jet will propel me to Florida with much need  for prosaic after my flight.  Seeing her bright face makes me forget my nerves, well just a bit.   It has been two years since last we saw each other.  I am excited to see her, but there is a side that is not.  To view your mother in a whole new way is not easy.  Promising myself to take sadness and put it into my pocket each and everyday I am with her

It is not easy seeing our parents age, for we all know the reason for the fear.  Death is eminent and much closer then it ever was.  Not that age is the only factor for the Grim Reaper to come a knockin, but it does not help!
I am going to enjoy every moment in my favorite place Florida and keep any negativity buried deep.
I could do that!!!  If a mother and daughter can finally say they are friends, this is a walk in the park.

Enjoy your life everyday and embrace the good moments!!!!  God willing!!!!

By Laura LaVeglia

Please go to my sister site http://britwriters.blogspot.co.uk/.
Many talented writers with interesting subject matters that will bring up some emotions.

May you all have a day,month, and life filled with joy and peace, for all else is trivial.

Laura LaVeglia (Keku)

There Is No Place Like Home

Outside window on verge of eve, is a chickadee waiting for warmth

With a powerful lift, painted closed window sees light of new day

Tied around her beak a beautiful presentation

Silk ribbon heavenly shade of blue, she grips with precision

She sits so delicately upon her chosen women

There is confusion spiraling about

Her hands shaking as chickadee presents the rice paper

Should she keep its contents wrapped and bound with a secret to be found?

Excitement keeps her curious

The delicate woman unwraps its light or dark

But before the paper uncurls, silk ribbon intrigues her senses!

Taking the ribbon across her face caressing its smooth feel

Realizing it must stop

Procrastination is her middle name!

Moments lately, ephemeral and few

So uncurl my girl and read its tale!

Chosen to go back home with your companion is what it said!

Confusion took hold as tilt of the head was placed

Now talking so calmly to this bird

Would never have done this act before

This is ludicrous!

My beautiful chickadee what does this mean?

You are going back home to the paradise you once knew

I am your angel to hold you tight

Fly with me as I take your anxiety away tying into a silk ribbon

This time color of your choice!

Watching the ribbon blow away in the wind

Gracefully following the moon

Taking a journey faintly proverbial

Suddenly luminous white radiance

This comforts woman, realizing blue silk ribbon and its message

There is no place like home!

Anyone who is very close to me, knows my take on reincarnation and how I believe we will all be living many life's and some more then others.  Brought back to Earth to relive our mistakes until we have perfected our human being.
There is a strong believe that I lived in the Victorian Era as a Prostitute and living in jolly old England.
I decided to write a poem about a beautiful young women who's life was taken all too soon!!!!
She was a lady of the evening who lived in the slums of England, but each night she would venture into the better part of town to meet her men.

I hope you enjoy my poem "Why Did't I NotListen to the Crow".

Why Did I Not Listen to the Crow

The crow’s raucous voice heard numerous times

On this night there was an air of apprehension

A warning is told, but only if you are tuned to natures heed!

It was the 1800’s living as a prostitute was a dream or nightmare

Live was not a picnic

Girl of young years uneducated and pretty

What else do I know what to do but to screw very well!

Watching mama and papa all these years

Brought to my young mind this is the way of life!

So here I am, a Victorian woman of the eve

Crossing this bridge became a way of life

Countless times brings into a world of countless dreams

It is five o’clock in morning

The old wives called it the dying of a crow

An explanation can’t be understood

Tiny hairs on arms are erect as familiar penis

The heart pleads not to enter

I drip with most fragrant desire

Just why not one more time!

This has been heard too many times in my head

A night of ecstasy

Shillings fill my pocket

I dream of the market with all its goodies

Crossing over going back home

Legs unsteady ,because door was left open too many times

There is a crow, but not just some crow

Can’t explain the feeling, I felt tonight

He kept screaming something about a man called Jack

Could it be a vision of love tonight?

If only I would have listened more carefully!

Suddenly the air becomes thicker then the fog

Feelings of vomit fill the mouth

I am scared!

Approaching is a gentleman of a lovely air

Convincing myself that is all that is there

We cross each other’s path as he tilts top hat

Batting my eyes ; feel the moisture once again between legs

He stops and the tingle continues

There is something shiny glinting in the dark

A coin for thy?

Oh how smitten I deem

He put his arms around

Feeling his hardness, a smile becomes a part of me

Suddenly feeling faint; wetness, but not of the womanly type

Again, and again he stabs at me

A more sickening sound I have not heard!

It was a knife that shined!

Oh why couldn’t I see!

He cut out my heart and my last breath

Why did I not listen to the crow that night?

He kept screaming “Jack will come to you tonight”!

Stupid me, stupid me!!!

There was a time in my younger life when I not only made fun of my mother, but  really did not fully understand where she was coming from.  Mom would constantly talk about how fast life speeds by.
A beautiful event or holiday as a family would always end each sentence the same
"God Willing".  In moms world this meant if she lived for the moment of excitement.

I stand here today and I am my mother at fifty-five years old it is my time to worry about the future!
Mom is getting on in age and it saddens me to see her not the same fast witch on a broom.  I swore at times that women had a machine or secret ring enabling her to go here and there with the speed of light.
Today emphysema took her magic locking it away for ever.

In a week and a half a jet will propel me to Florida needing prosaic after my flight.  Seeing her bright face makes me forget my nerves, well just a bit.   It has been two years since last we saw each other.  I am excited to see her, but there is a side that is not.  To view your mother in a whole new way is not easy.  Promising myself to take sadness and put it into my pocket each and everyday I am with mom.

It is not easy seeing our parents age, for we all know the reason for the fear.  Death is eminent and much closer then it ever was.  Not that age is the only factor for the Grim Reeper to come a knockin, but it does not help!
I am going to enjoy every moment in my favorite place Florida and keep any negativity buried deep.
I could do that!!!  If a mother and daughter can finally say they are friends, this is a walk in the park.

Enjoy your life everyday and embrace the good moments!!!!

Forth of July has been traditionally spent with my best friend and her family for the past twenty-five years.
As always, I was excited to see my friend and gorge on her barbeque feast.
This has been a part of my family for a quarter of a century.

There is a new member in her family.  My friend became a grandmother for the first time. 
By the way there is a number two on the way any day.  This minature gentelmen makes me laugh and puts an extra step in my stride.  Getting together these days I not only look forward to seeing friends and family, but my new little friend.  His name is Jack and already he is a ladies man.
At two years old, his opinion of my blouse made me so happy

Debut show of the Author's Nook with Laura Grillo Laveglia

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/joeygiggles/2012/09/12/debut-show-of-the-authors-nook-with-laura-grillo-laveglia

This is the archived recording of my show.  Very proud of myself!!!  Enjoy!

In a few months my second book will be published.  "The Butterfly Paradox" is an extension of my first book "Metamorphosis".  I have come quite far as a human being and it shows in my poetry.  The first fifty poems I wrote were balls of poison held so tightly.  Each poem would shed heavy weights from my body.
The second half are funny, light and sometimes heartfelt.  I know longer see or feel anger in my words or life!

It is my great pleasure as I look forward to a second accomplishment.  My poetry is not only a gift from God  but my gift to the world!

The Bodhi Tree

Words simulate dying leafs falling from tree

Find truth within oneself….

Language meaningless as dead wilting leaves wisp away

There was once magnificence with nature

Selfish, meaningless vapors form prison

Chose your expressions cautiously

Do they have feelings from the heart?

Without heartfelt whispers the Bodhi  Tree roots firmly

A second coming, a second chance! 

Embark upon twigs of boundless beauty

I will ring your bell, so be prepared

Each word, each sentence, losses warmth

Petal by petal drops to the hungry earth

Once tree is naked, man gives up the ghost!

Run through golden meadow

Forgive the ones we truly love

Love is the glue that keeps heart shaped leaves hanging on

Once your harvest is clear

The Bodhi Tree regains its warmth

Growing , climbing towards golden light

If a beautiful tree comes knocking for thee

Dig deep inside watching tree cultivate your heart

Spiritual enlightment will grace your door!