Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Sundown Dad - Poetry Jam

Sundown Dad

His blue eyes glimmer soft these days
Blue veins, wrinkles, silken skin
He lingers over memories, old ways
His chatter stutters, stops, begins

He watches sunsets with closed eyes
Too bright he says, it’s nicer here –
Retreats to porch and sits and sighs
Draws blanket off the chair and near

My father in his sunset years
Is not the man who held me high
Who whistled away all childish fears
Who told me he would never die

My father is a feeble shell of life
With rattled memories jangling round
Fed on pills by beleaguered wife
Who walks on eggs and makes no sound

And yet at times, he sits up straight
And makes a joke and laughs aloud
And shows us ‘Dad’ as he was then
Witty, happy, bright, and proud.

This long goodbye is painful to me
Watching as his sun drops low
It seems that we would all be happy
Should he simply just … let … go …

 ... shared with other writers at Poetry Jam who have written to the theme of sunsets ...

Saturday, April 26, 2014

Saturday Snapshot- Healthy Junk Food ?

... turkey meatloaf burger with Cheddar, cranberry mayo, and arugula on toasted English muffin ...

Sometimes, you just need a good burger !!! That is all for this week! Nom, nom, nom!

... shared with other photographers on Saturday Snapshot ...
... hit the link to check out the other photos and commentary this week ...

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

The Cold Dark Desert of Night - Poetry Jam

the cold dark desert of night

they say the sun falls hard in the desert
settles to horizon’s line then drops -
a golden coin in a slot
soft darkness deepens to a blue
that slowly spangles with first stars
until a chill blanket of light
blinks and beams across the heavens

I lay back upon this bedrock - watch
my Janus facing day and night
reach out to touch a strong arm –
whisper words across the space
while Janus turns to look toward Mars
I loll back – sigh and settle to
the cold dark desert of the night

shared with others at

Saturday, April 19, 2014

Saturday Snapshot - Counting Hexagons

I recently became enthralled with the idea of 'paper piecing' and hexagons and the quilt pattern known  as Grandmother's Garden.

I've sewn a lot of  things over the years and the idea of revisiting all those projects over the course of making a quilt that is put together in a random fashion intrigues me, so I have stepped off on this monumental project. I baste small pieces of fabric onto heavy paper hexagons. These hold the shape of the hexagon perfectly and form crisp fabric edges that will later be stitched together over and over and over again to form a randomly colored quilt face.

I am NOT the type of person that necessarily chooses to be random, but this is a project that is a psychological exercise for me. Facing up to the randomness of life, thinking about random memories from my family's life as I stitch particular pieces of fabric, and letting my mind wander randomly as I make this quilt will surely be an interesting journey.

Of course, my typically organized mind has already begun wondering just how many of these little hexagons I must baste and then sew together to make a queen-sized quilt .... over 3000. The saga begins.

... shared with others at Saturday Snapshot ...
... please visit Melinda's site to see what others are sharing ...

Thursday, April 10, 2014

Opening Day ! - Poetry Jam


grass turns green
hats come out
gloves get limbered –
old hands return to
springtime duty
new blood races
hopes and dreams awaken
gravelly voice shouts

sunlight glares on
upturned smiling faces
scoreboard flashes
tears flow when anthem
blares out over the crowd
youngsters race
to grab their dreams
that hang the end of each
well swung bat – CRACK!

old timers lean back
pace themselves with peanuts
cold beer and perhaps
a dog of an umpire
carping the plays or nodding
approval with grins like
old fences they remember
peeking round or crawling over
before getting pitched - OUT!

shared at Poetry Jam, where this week's theme is 'baseball and barriers' ...

Sunday, April 6, 2014

Mag 214 - Into Blue

Into Blue 

Rise up as smoke that filters from the wreckage. 
Send up your spirit to mingle with others. 
Feel a lightening of heart and a catch in the breath, 
as soul energy passes outward and upward into blue. 

There is a place where others gather above that spot, 
a hallowed arena of remembered images from the multitudes. 
They pass in and out and around that special place of loss, 
And day and night they pause, imagining columns rising into blue. 

Dust swirls around the heart’s remembrance. 
Faces dim and memories pass in, out, and around corners. 
One night though, a glance upward makes one pause 
The eye follows a glow, a stream, a call into blue.


This image is very haunting to me, reminding me of the loss of loved ones on the morning of September 11, 2001 ... one might forever reach for the dust in the light, trying to touch a loved one just one more time.

shared with other writers at Magpie Tales

The Monuments Men - Robert M. Edsel

This was a book that I really wanted to have read before I saw the movie, but alas ... the movie came to our little rural backwater before I could lay hands on the text. Consequently, I was left always trying to match the actors to the actual Monuments Men that Robert Edsel brings alive through narrative, letters home, Nazi bureaucratic correspondence, and description of military front line movements. I'm so glad I read this book, as I gained better understanding of this chapter in WWII history.