Thursday, July 19, 2018
Oh, sweet voice
carried upon the warm summer breeze
as I quote from Shakespeare
"Hell is empty and all the devils are here"
What for is each day
toiling upon the early morning
hardship is something we don't appreciate
comparing life then to now.
Sing me a love song
take away my worries post haste
lull me sweetly in another time and place
sleepy-eyed and contented
across the fields of my dreams
his image tugs upon my common senses
Love invades my dreams.
There is little between my love of Shakespeare and I passionately love his work, my art that tries so hard to capture romance in glass and my own books dip deep into romance and disappointment. This Mandolin will be turned into a piece of art.
My 15th Novel is in the process of being released though it will be a month but it is a story about a young doctor who flees her abusive husband and the need to finally find her mother who abandoned her after birth. She is stranded in the islands of the Philippines when the Japanese attacks and occupies the entire Pacific Theater in 1941. It is a good place to hide and heal until she must re-enter the world where she is thrown into a world wind of accepting her past and falling in love.
I honestly am at odds when I am not writing something. I have always been this way and have to pull myself away from writing to live a normal life. The Mandolin will be decorated with Dog Roses or something because my ideas aren't always the final decision. For now, I need to put chicken wings on the BBQ. I did last night make Waffles and Chicken including adding pecans [crushed] into the batter and whipping my butter. Too much chicken this week but that's alright because some weeks I eat too many tacos.
Saturday, July 7, 2018
The thoughts turn into words
falling onto the screen
as my fingers mindlessly follow direction
I know not the keys
should you ask me to recreate
the board which I lavish my energy
Tell me a story spin it away
bring forth the roundness
of the characters before my face
The moon and sun spin
romance and evil intertwine
tendrils growing over the gravestone
Traps set within my mind
love is a living creature
found in the hearts of all mankind
Acknowledging with a smile
romance doesn't always fall in line
consequences wait patiently in the weeds.
I am currently working on my 15th Novel which takes place during World War Two in the Pacific Theater.
Friday, May 18, 2018
Random or are they really
Unexpectedly appearing in the early
Morning dew satisfying their thirst
Surviving when unnoticed
Through droughts and torrential floods
They rise proudly
A breath of fresh perspective
The Bain of the
Fanatical gardener in flowered gloves
Pots of perfect soil
Hours of tending and pruning
Sweat equity providing beauty
For afternoon tea
No room for a broke limb
Wilted roses be damned
I stand quietly
Clippers in one hand
Haphazardly my eyes roam
Upon the flowers
Growing wildly in my garden
With the wildflowers
Scattered upon the bare earth
Filling the world
Living their life on their terms
Calling sweetly to the bees
They touch my heart
Surprises of the sudden tears
My emotions overwhelmed
By the wildness
That overcomes me
A gardener by chance
A romantic in the most unexpected way.
@May 18, 2018
Thursday, May 17, 2018
Meet you in the middle
Where we root through the weeds
Finding some type of commonality
We aren’t sincerely different
Actually, we are the same
Strip away the clothing
Take off the gold and glittering chains
Wash the day from your face
The weariness residing in your eyes
Just tell me your name
Leave behind your passion
Opinions rarely reveal a helpful clue
Of the path you have obviously chosen
For I know not where you go
Stars in your eyes for fame
Lost and found is an empty box
Abandoned spider webs decorate corners
Dust upon discarded thoughts
Onward one must move methodically
From that which you came
The day is long and demanding
Dancing upon the ends of endurance
We rarely decompress completely
Ordering a drink as we sit to dine
Grousing as we seek something to blame
I sit and watch this manic dance
Faces contorted or bathed in defeat
Laughter tinkles like a crystal glass
Comfort in oneself do I rarely find
Please, won’t you tell me your name?
@May 17, 2018
Friday, May 11, 2018
A letter to my Ex seems appropriate now that time has settled down like a dirt road when the old truck is in the distance. I have thought about all those years, all the months, weeks, days and hours. What I have discovered is that there was no time that my feelings weren’t hurt by some little thing that he said or did. My memories are less accessible today because I don’t want them to be and now I don’t wish to pull them back out of that cobweb memory bank.
When did it go wrong? When I thought that if you love someone they must certainly equally love you. If you put a map in front of me like a board of candy cane, I would be able to bring up every wrong turn in a long journey. The thing I can do now is not lay blame or commiserate with those wrong turns but to accept my own responsibility. I am the only one who I could change. I didn’t. Not in the beginning, not down that long road, not when it was teetering, not until too many years passed.
I know the saying that everything is for a reason and everything leads you to where you are at the moment. That is true because each roll of the dice moves you forward or backward but it moves you. If I had more control, more foresight, more initiative, I would not have taken the road I took. If I had been brave. I don’t want you to think I am diminishing my love for it was and is true and honest as any emotion I ever held. It still as strong as it was in the beginning and that is why it took so long to bury that love long enough to step away from the relationship.
Did he treat me bad? Oh, my little bitty heart believes so and if that is the case I now know that it doesn’t break easily despite the jabs and punches [figuratively]. My relationship was like a dripping faucet that slowly wore away the porcelain on the sink. It should have been a great relationship because I am a devout romantic. I am in love with love only to find out that love cannot be isolated.
I should write to him, tell him that we were just not really meant to be and that I should have known that in the beginning. I feel bad that he spent so many years not happy but then maybe he just isn’t a happy man. I don’t know. I could not see past myself to understand that it wasn’t right. I should let him know that I know that he truly tried but didn’t have the capacity to even express his feelings. Maybe I didn’t allow him to grow into being romantic, maybe I didn’t expect enough or was even too insecure in the relationship to believe. I don’t know. I don’t know despite so many years, despite our strong friendship and despite love, I still have no answers just acceptance.I won’t write because I still think it might shoot me in the foot but I hope he is finally happy.
Thursday, April 19, 2018
My husband took me out to dinner tonight to celebrate the finish of my
Ten Union deserters made plans to rob the Union Payroll wagon of
seventy-five thousand dollars, the largest heist attempted during the Civil War.
Ten men who had killed for the President on the battlefield now killed for
love, money and the pure untethered pleasure of killing.
They ride with the dark man who is waiting patiently for their souls as he
tempts them with the very thing they seek.
Juliette cannot stop the carnage or save the victims he serves up
to the greedy men unless he allows her to. That doesn't stop the taunting and the visions
that she can't block out. He tortures her with forcing her to watch.
Juliette channels Megan Clark long before the afternoon in the cornfield.
It will be the struggle of both of their lives.
Sunday, April 1, 2018
damn but I hate to admit that there are more years
behind me then in front but that's pretty much where I find myself
Easter is a religious holiday
that involved me getting a permanent
and a new dress in pink or lavender with Paten leather shoes
little white gloves and white hats with ribbons
I will wish you the best day on this Easter Sunday
and admit that I love the traditions
which were so much a part of my life when young
the Easter Baskets
filled with candy, toys and eggs
[I didn't like hard boiled eggs or even eggs but I regress]
I loved the colors, the fake grass
and the jelly beans.
Back then there were only a handful of flavors.
I did have a black rabbit
we lived in North Dakota off of the base in a large house
the rabbits lived in a cage under the house
I don't know why I had a rabbit
but I did and then I didn't
because some nice person poisoned my rabbit.
Of course, that's what I was told
but when we left England I was told my black cat
was killed by a neighborhood dog...
this was the "we can't afford to quarantine her" solution
so instead I was emotionally destroyed
so I wouldn't argue at the age of seven.
I can now look back at all those childhood things
with a critical eye on the truth
and the necessity of bending it like light through a prism
the parental stories to handle a child
the fact that I remember these things and knew
then what I know now
makes me understand that those little stories
aren't always the way to handle things.
Alright...this is not a good Easter story
but more a story on morality
I accept more than I allow to change my world
I have adopted the old southern philosophy
of smiling, enjoying and telling others
"isn't that nice"
I am in the midst of getting ready for a large
art show and have two books in the air using one
to avoid finishing the other.
I think I have too much on my plate and have fallen
into a bowl of procrastination and noodles.
Have a great Easter and remember that spring is
a beautiful time of any year.