Progress

Shovels dug into earth
gravel and sand excavated
ground levelled and firmed
foundation is laid

 

following the design

pillars erected
connected in all direction
rooms are segmented

skeletal frame silhouettes

against the sinking sun
long shadows cast
upon the receding land

skeleton morphs to walls

fragmenting each space
levels are determined
as a house takes shape

as one nears completion

another prepares to rise
as this house becomes a home
more skeletons materialize

all land beneath these structures

disappear in submission
hidden from sun and sky
to escape their derision

a shameful task of our land

succumbed to a new need
driven off creatures from habitat,
left is only human greed

these skeletal structures

standing tall against wide horizon
unashamed of their numbers
wild flowers, now just an illusion

sod is set to add the green

so all will be manicured
beauty as we know it
forever obscured

today wooden skeletons above this terrain for a hearth,

tomorrow our skeletons merged with displaced creatures, beneath the earth.

It's a Blue Day - 2 Poems

A Blue Day

Blue Jay tormenting a squirrel

Blue beagle chasing rabbits
Blueness of the sky, or mood
Creatures of our habits.

Rabbits eating flowers

Owls eating rabbits
Circle of life completed
Way beyond our limits.

Love doves wobble along

Mocking birds creating racket
Sing song and chatter go on
To woe, to whisk, or flatter.

Tiny turtles strut, tut

Lonesome, lost, or flattened,
In or out of water
Flourish or lament

Magnolias in bloom high up

Petunias making rabbits fatter
Marigolds, begonias, roses smile
Race of survival, all that matters.

Blue beagle and blue jay, music of life

Howling, barking, and chitter, chatter.
Blue is serene, calming to the soul,
Color of peace, cooling on the whole.

Cool Blue

Blue is soft

And it is deep
Blue is sad
That makes you weep

Blue is music

Blue is Jazz
Serene and lyrical
As is Topaz

It’s a great big canvas

From the sky to the sea
To splash all the colors
For all to see

Blue is the Beagle

Jazz is his name
If he wasn’t naughty
All beagles would be same

Powder or baby blue

Peacock or mid-night
Blue is beaUtiful
As hues on full moon night!






 

Mothers' Legacy

He strived for stripes and stars

a bath of blood became his reward

all is not lost with him no more

spilled blood of his family knows no woe.

Like a tree, family branches spread thick and wide

just as the trunk, they stand together in stride 

the support helps branches dare to dream,

bear fruit, and flowers, and healthy leaves.

They dream together and aim for the sky

when a branch falls down, the dream stays alive

just like the roots, a mother keeps her family grounded

she is the core, her legacy keeps generations bounded.

While I Sleep

It is full moon

again, its glow

an eerie presence

the light it casts
a game with shadow
of hide and then seek
of see and not see

like a spotlight

it hangs above our stage
to mock our existence
judging the dramatics,
all the plays
that go on and on
from land to rising sea

our very own moon

watches, a poor creature
dashing, escaping, helpless
the circular fluorescent
smiles at the loss
of life so small,
insignificant, burrowed deep

the gleaming moon

rippling in the pool
listening to the hoot
or a red squawk
is it the owl or the hawk?
That leaves the remains
of tiny creatures helpless?

The blood moon
Flaming red

observes, the nocturnal
hunt of predator to predatee
from land to rising sea.
 

Is It Written?

I open my eyes with a start. The room is covered in darkness. The constant whir of the ceiling fan combined with the loud whistling snores beside me echo like an orchestra.

I slip out of bed into the naked night. An eerie glow covered the lake below as the moon hung low, as if mocking me. I look away.  A far off whistle echoes from behind the mountains.  It toots its way through windy curves hauntingly.

Another whistle rings in my head and a different landscape spreads before my eyes. I recall a train that had started its chug in another land, in another life, for another man.

The first thing I noticed about him was his hair.  It flew away from his face into a thick black curtain. His cheeks flapped up and down on his long, thin face.  His eyes were determined.  I saw his long arm reach out to the bar by the door. He grabbed it with a strong grip, his legs keeping up with the stride to outrun the train. With one leap he pulled himself up and into the moving carriage.

Just an hour earlier, I had inadvertently pushed him through the door onto the platform.  While trying to maneuver my awkward baggage onto the standing train, my line of site had become limited.  He had almost thrown a few slurs my way, but stopped midsentence. Instead, his long arms had extended to offer help.

Now, in my carriage, I stared at his windblown hair, charred face, and heaving chest. The journey flew as we became friends and in time more.  His dreams carried him to many more journeys, while I watched him get on and off trains from the sidelines.  As I waited, my family could wait no longer.

A knot and few promises and my life was changed.  Moved to a new land in the mountains, far from home and family, I built my nest. My brood flourished, grew and flew to their own nests.  Today, my graying hair colored up to perfection, my body acquiescing to gravity, but holding slim and firm, I declare my life’s been happy.  My life partner a sweet man committed and dedicated to me has never asked but always given.  I feel lucky, yet not all at peace.

It’s always the train whistle, but tonight my mind is even less at peace.  I watch the moon slowly go down and wait for the sun to rise all the way up before heading indoors.  My husband is stirring to wake up and I escape into the bathroom.  After a long, hot shower I start breakfast.  At the table I can’t meet his eyes and we eat in silence. His nose is buried in the local paper, the front of which is covered with news of the avalanche in the ski town nearby.  He reports that two skiers, apparently tourists are buried and feared dead, even though a search party is out looking for them. He rattles off their names.

The teacup in my hand slides from my fingers, spilling milky tea on the tablecloth.  I feel my hands shaking as if my body is feeling withdrawals.  I excuse myself and run to the bathroom where a deluge of tears are released from my swollen eyes.  I recall all the thrill rides, adrenaline rush seeking activities that he was always so fond of.  His risk taking dreams has always been his first love and now he was engulfed in it.  He lived his dream and I had never been part of what he desired.

Nothing had changed for him in life, and now there was no life for him.  I had given life, made a life with another person but clung to another life.   Now I needed to let go.  Live my life.  He had lived his.  I wiped her tears, washed my face and walked back to the kitchen with a smile. I returned to a new life. A life without his shadow.

 

Generations - Conclusion

My car and many more cars went through multitude revolutions as my hair grayed and grandchildren came along. I transferred to the back seat and watched the trees change from lush to colorful to bare to snow-laden to lush again. 

A rumor of a morning hung out there, behind the dull shroud. A mist rose from the lake to merge into the veil.  Patches of light emerged in the midst of darkness while a scythe of a moon lingered, overstaying its welcome. Birds blindly floated from branch to branch, guiding their path through song.  A gust flew in, steering the clouds away, parting the curtain for the spot light of the morning, allowing the show to begin. 

 

We pull into a space in a large parking lot and I unfasten my seat restraint.  The door wouldn’t open from the inside, child safety lock still in place.  My daughter steps out of her driving seat and holds my door ajar.  My feet touch the hard concrete and she helps me pull my large behind up. I take the cane she hands me and steady my stance on the firm surface.  My three legs move forward with my daughter beside me, holding my hand, matching my pace. 

The building that welcomes us is large with an automatic sliding door.  We step into a grand entryway with a large foyer and a reception desk on one side.  A young man greets us and invites us to check in at his desk.  We take our seats facing him, my cane leaning against his desk in one corner.  My daughter lets go of my hand to pick up a pen and sign the papers presented to her.  My hand feels empty, cold, abandoned.  I lean in to decipher the words on the paper, but my eyes betray me.  All I see is little black ants crawling up the page, moving in circles, down a line in single file.  I bring my abandoned hand to a pen on the desk and begin to fiddle with the instrument.  Click click. Click click.  The young man and my daughter glance up at me and then at the pen.  I’m at a loss as to what’s bothering them?  I don’t hear any irritating sounds.

Paperwork finally completed, we rise.  The two young people fuss about me, handing me my cane, pulling out the chair, holding my arm so I can rise up and steady myself.  We follow the young man across the foyer through a hallway.  As we reach the end, I hear a cacophony of sounds as if a cocktail party is in session.  A door swings open and we walk into a large hall.  There are people everywhere, standing, walking, sitting on a sofa absorbed in a book, sitting around several tables in midst of various games. I notice women in wheelchairs, men with hearing aids, people with IV’s or oxygen tank next to their seat. Some hold cards in their hand, others make much noise at the mahjong table. A group of men and women are sitting in a corner by the fireplace, absorbed in a deep discussion, each holding a book in their hands.

I turn to my daughter, look in her eyes and nod.  She smiles, kisses my forehead, gives me a hug and promises to return in a few hours.

The End
 

Generations - Part One

I felt the hard concrete under my feet as I stepped out of my car.  In the back seat my 3-year old had already unbuckled her car-seat restraint and was attempting to open the door.  The child safety locks kept her safely in, until I opened the door. She hopped out with both feet firmly on the ground.  We stood together, side by side looking at the small building in front of us.  I searched for the entrance and spotted a small path leading up to the side of the structure.  I felt tiny fingers curl around my hand and we followed our footsteps towards a new beginning.

The double doors were glass and heavy and I managed to get my petite child through them without crushing any fingers or toes.  A tall desk greeted us with a smiling face behind it.  I stood tall and peered over the top of the desk for introductions and related the purpose of our visit. Kind eyes looked at me with confusion.  No new child was expected that day and the owner had not arrived yet.  I explained that I had spoken with the owner and was asked to bring my child at the hour that the large clock behind her chimed.  The kind eyes nodded and disappeared into a classroom with promise to return with an answer.

My daughter stood straight beside me, staring at the wooden wall of the tall desk flat in front of her.  I went on my tip-toes and tried to look over to the other side of the desk, as if bobbing my head above water as my body and my child lay submerged. My hand fidgeted in my purse for my planner to confirm the appointment date as my feet shuffled to find a footing. I felt cool fingers on my arm and looked down at the innocent face.  My young child stood calm in her blue, stone-washed cotton shorts with matching t-shirt, white socks folded down to her ankles securing her tiny feet in denim shoes.

I attempted a smile and let her hold my hand.  The second and then minute hands ticked away as the delicate grasp in my hand became tighter and sweaty.  I stroked her soft hair and squeezed her hand gently.

The kind woman returned and reiterated that no one was aware of a new child starting.  However, Miss Katie’s class can accommodate and I can guide my daughter towards the classroom.  We turned, hand in hand taking tentative steps towards the classroom.  Cacophony of little people voices vibrated out into the hallway through the open door.  My little girl tightened her grip on my finger and stopped mid-step.  I looked down into her dark eyes with a fan of long lashes.  She tilted her head up towards me and declared, “I…I will no cry.”

I smiled with quivering lips and allowed her to lead me to her new class. After planting a kiss on her forehead and a big wave, I turned and let the deluge flow.  The kind voice from the front desk and apologetic voice of the owner echoed around me.  I nodded, smiled and waved to them, promising to return in a few hours.

To be continued…

Sounds of Silence

Silence rips through the fabric of my time
deafening my ear drums into loud hums
It slices across the room of this old house
to dissect or to rouse old demons.

Then a whisper floats, through a window hole

It comes in a howl whipping up all that is fowl,
Other sounds creep in, tentative and slow at first.

A wall clock ticks away through its revolutions,

As I ponder at this evolution,

Sliding the window up a crack, I let more sounds creep in

The angry wind lashes at me, I persevere and let it seep in

At long last the crisp dies down
I feel the breeze ruffle all around

Cardinal and blue jays sing their spring songs

Sparrows and wrens chirp and sing along

They interrupt the silence as it breathes its last breath

Silence is silenced to its own death

Rumble descends from the sky as a super jet flies by

Piercing whistle screeches in with intermittent tracks clammerin’
Unseen dogs bark in an abyss behind dark, high fences

I crank up the sound system allowing more music to flow

Simon and Garfunkel spew, Sounds of Silence, I find myself renewed
My companion in ups and downs, forever we will be bound
Music I listen to most is the serene, silent sound.

Emptiness

All alone in an empty house
The blustery day ensues
Gray clouds hover
Leaving me feeling blue

Snow drifts and waves

Bare branches wither
A freight train whistles
Icy wind just whips

So this is the culmination

Of 9 years of occupation
22 years of habitation
Of Minnesota-ization

All alone in an empty house

Where memories were made
With many firsts and many lasts
For love, it never failed

a ray of sunshine beams

offering perspective
from the warm room
as it reveals all prospective

the evergreens flash a smile

into my sunny room
there will be new memories
in a new place, a new home.

An empty house it is today

But voices of past echo
I capture them in my heart
And together, away we’ll go.

Up-Rooted

It is time

to say goodbye

to the Polar Vortex

the mountains of snow

black ice drama

lakes and parks we know

 It is time

to gather all around

our bittersweet memories

of walk from the hospital

from obscure surgery

or with our bundle of joy

It is time

to keep it all alive

joys at the museums

applause of the theatres

little kids’ dramas

broadways and concerts

It is time

to pack up

all of the memories

bottle up all the tears

carefully carry them along

look ahead sans fear 

It is time

to Up Root

our warm, humble nest

put the memories in boxes

nestle them in our hearts

             and Re-Root in Texas.

It is just a matter of time…

and friendships extend beyond time.

 

Frosty View

We look far

Overlooking the near

We see beyond

Into the obscure

We peer to the future

Ignoring the here

We listen for high

While low we do not hear

We admire the distant

Neglecting near and dear

We see the sky

So blue and clear

Past the frosted imprints

Nature’s artwork so rare!

 
 
 
 
 

Vibrations

Sun spreads its radiance and I absorb it,

Moon glows in serenity and I sip it,

snowflake pirouettes in silence and I hear it,

dongs bang

bombs explode

atoms collide

universe vibrates into infinity. 

Radiance in her eyes

glow on his face

Their feet twirl together,

bells chime

trains whistle

Mars and Venus smile 
universe vibrates with infinite love. 

Luminous warmth in her innocence

glow of pride in theirs,

parents and baby do the dance of joy,

anklets jingle

rattlers rattle

cells combine

universe vibrates with infinite creation. 

One sun, one moon, one universe

nine planets, seven seas, one mother earth

204 countries, 809 islands, 7 billion humans,

our stars are aligned, our atoms gravitate

to merge or fuse

our paths cross, we walk a distance together and part ways

until…

another path

another lifetime

another space.

It was meant to be.

Just BE!