Saturday, June 29, 2024

Where Does Time Go

 I imagine that the question

could be a statement of sorts

or the mere fact that each letter that turns into words

eats slowly away at time

We mark time from the second of our birth

our birth is marked from inception

and then the page turns

and time is measured by how much is left

for we all have a beginning and an end

and we have little to say on either

we can extend our time, sometimes

we can use our time as we wish

but time wasn't measured in calendars

time pieces or that old grandfather clock

time was measured by the sun,

the sky and the moon

days weren't named for convenience

who determined a minute is the length of seconds

why is a day a day

why do we even celebrate still breathing

knowing that the worms will eventually find a way

to turn us dust and bones

they live within us patiently waiting

for the final grand feast

where does time really go?


Barb

Wednesday, July 26, 2023

The Loss of Interest

 I was interested.

until the pages of the calendar fell

quietly to the floor

I was interested.

in carving a space in the world

to be there when I'm not.

I was interested.

in the burdens you talk about

trying to get my mind around them.

I was interested.

to give my sage advice and opinion

but they fell silently to the floor.

Now I don't

take time out of my unbusy day.

except to plant my flowers wildly

Life is a one soul thing.

I do not need to solve anything.

if it does not affect me

Wildflowers

those matter to me and no one else.


Barb

Wednesday, December 29, 2021

The World Was Silent

 I haven't posted since "before the pandemic" and my logical self is asking why? Am I so boring when I don't have a world to explore and enjoy? When I am sitting here by myself faced with what chore should I do to keep my bones from freezing up like the Tin Man. 

I have lost the ability to be social with my only interactions at the grocery store or with neighbors. I am an introvert. Not that I don't enjoy being with people but even "before the pandemic", most believe that I am a very quiet person. A snapshot of my brain in a social setting would be astounding if I say so myself. My lips might not move or words spill out for others to ponder but my brain is talking to me. 

I don't know when this will be over. I am vaccinated, boosted and even have gotten the flu shot [I usually don't]. I wear a mask when out, I use that stuff on my hands and I keep my distance. So, what in the world do I do when I am in this invisible bubble?

I planted an entire wildflower garden taking up half of my yard and a tomato garden that gave me the best tomatoes to freeze for making sauces. Gardening with me is a perpetual experiment. I don't particularly like vegetables, so I decided to grow herbs and seriously you get a lot of herbs from small plants. This winter I am working on soups. I love soups with a lot of broth. My latest attempt will be making my own posole. After a great family gathering on Christmas eve, I made ham hock and beans which was fabulous if I must say so myself. 

Well, now that I have posted after two years of silence, maybe I will return to posting. Maybe not.

Barb

Saturday, September 14, 2019

Returning to the Farm


It used to be that everyone had a member of the family
who lived and worked on a farm.
When the day started with the crow
of the only rooster
who despite what many think was the original
alarm clock.

There was no time to dawdle or meander
take in the sweet smell of the haystack
or the pure smell of amonia
as the shovel scooped
a day's worth of milk cow poop
for fertilyzer.

The last generation in my family to be farmers
was the last generation of our country that raised or grew
more of their food than they ever bought.
Gone are the small chicken coops,
the garden and fruit trees
churning butter and saving cream.

I don't know if we are better off
with technology
or if it is making us less productive
less healthy or maybe just forgetful of the past.
I grow fruit and have a garden
Some goes to friends and neighbors
Some is eaten by the yard birds
the rest is put up for the winter.

My backyard farm
produces flavorful and costs me in energy alone
Some years are good and some not so
but it is time to return to being
self-sufficient
and reduce our carbon footprint.

barb

Monday, April 15, 2019

Some Days Bad Luck Rules

 
 
 
What is best
a tornado or life at rest
a stain on your tie
a button missing on your vest
 
luck
brought by chance
I went to Spain
but ended up in France
 
 
If it weren't for bad luck
I would have no luck at all
how sad that would be
to feel beset
by chance
and not by one's own actions
 
After a great week
in Vegas
where I never take a chance
my computer gave
up the lively ghost of life
 
My PT Cruiser
now in the hands of another
gave up the ghost
with noises of horrific pain
 
My condo filled out
luck comes in threes
with a major water leak from above
causing a mess no less
 
I just sometimes wonder
whether black cats are bad luck
walking under a ladder
stepping on someone's grave
 
I like the old tales
superstitions and whispered fears
the old graveyards
under the waning moon
 
Things are things
and even though they divert life
they also make you believe
that sometimes life is just a rollercoaster
and you can't always
get off.
 
barb
 


Sunday, March 31, 2019

The Tale of Two Affairs


My 16th Novel is now available on Amazon/Kindle

The Tale of Two Affairs is a story about the illegitimate daughter of Jennifer Cooper and Samuel Little in the mid-eighteen hundred.  Rebecca Cooper is raised by her grandfather in the Catskill Mountains west of Kingston, New York.

This story takes you through her determination to get to know her father and as his only child inherits his vast wealth that is left in a trust controlled by his lawyer.  As his illegitimate daughter, her acceptance in the town of Rhinebeck is less than ideal leading her to look elsewhere to begin her life.

Finding a Union veteran living in her grandfather's cabin, Rebecca decides to engage Ryan Ford in a plan to marry her for one year so that she can control her father's trust.  The plan sounded simple and was beneficial to both of these strangers.  Once they set the plan into action his complicated life entraps them in an emotional tornado that encompasses all of her energy and destroys her silent hope that he would fall in love with her during their plan.

Plans rarely work perfectly and love does not come because one wishes it to.  Rebecca falls victim to her own feelings.



Sunday, March 3, 2019

Germaphobic...ick!


Yesterday I started working on the ponds following
a long winter that froze them over almost every day of January and
into February.  Part of the pond spring cleaning is that
over the winter the green hair algae grew so I have to by hand pull it out
then treat the water.  I tell you this because touching icky things
does not phase me whatsoever.

little invisible germs
crawling on the handles and buttons
of public places
left behind by a sneeze or a silly cough

my magnifier in hand
I inspect the silver bars and knobs
the railings and elevator buttons
the pen at the front desk
used by a thousand people before you

that little tickle
running up and down the warm throat
produces a series of sneezes
launched with intent
germs spread around me unabashed

I cringe and step back
use my elbows and backside
so not to be in danger
of picking up a hitchhiking monster
intent to make me sick

my fingers are wrinkled
not from old age but constant washing
I use up the liquid soap
only to realize I touched the button
must wash again

I do believe
that I shall buy little white gloves
as the first line of defense
when wandering into public places
excuse me...don't sneeze.

barb