http:///2017/04/04/atozchallenge-2017-c- Compassion

Best Lesson. Vcl2016

 

Compassion   Vcl2017

On reflection

Sometimes things 

Get broken

And you just can't

Fix it

You just can't 

Kiss it 

Make it better

It just won't move

Or improve.

It gets caught

In a groove

And you've wiggled

And waggled

Without success

But stepping back

Learned to live

Without something 

Important

And You did not die.

Blogging from A to Z April Challenge: #AtoZChallenge - 4-3-2017 - Letter B

Blogging from A to Z April Challenge: #AtoZChallenge - 4-3-2017 - Letter B
Like a Tree   vcl2014
                                                             

Beneath this tree I stand
Rooted by circumstance
In the here and now.
I write of frivolous things
The sun and sea,
The warm kisses of children
Love gained and lost
Sometimes a prisoner
Longing to escape
The forest of discontent
But now envisioning a state
Of peaceful happiness
With the seedlings planted
Around me, words
Forming deep roots of their own
Growing gracefully
To hide and protect me
                                                                When my days are done.
                         

A~ Acrid. #atozchallenge 2017

Sometimes life is filled

With the acrid smell of burnt toast dreams

Unpalatable to most

Yet occasionally there is one 

Who will take a knife

Scraping away the blackened ugliness 

 Salvaging that bit of goodness 

Others miss.  

Vcl2017

Photo Wendy Letkeman Hallex

A to Z Challenge 2017

a-to-zchallenge.com

Christmas ~ It makes Us Feel.

Christmas ~ It makes us feel.
We wail and gnash our teeth
Or stoically keep a stiff upper lip
We wrap our gifts
Trim the tree, rearrange the Nativity...
And in the ritual, hope
To pass along the memories
To those who listen
Perhaps our children
Paying tribute to those we miss
Playing down the agonies
Elevating the bliss
A seasonal thaw, as if walking on stones
On the winter river
Frozen in place but beauteous ever
We find ourselves transfixed in this space
We've set aside for lost warm embrace.

And we hold it tight
For it is all we have
This celebration of lives lived and loved
And consoling ourselves that we are present
With our presence, the best present,
Not a memory erased, hoping to return
At the end of the glittery year that awaits.

Vcl2015

 

Time. Always in a hurry.

Time is always in a hurry

Taking me where I do not want to go.

To the end of the road.

Pulling with all its might

Ignoring all my kicking

And screaming as it thunders

Down the road of life

Wild horses galloping.

Vcl2015

August 26 2013

I needed to see lovely today
I caught occasional glimpses
Nothing concrete
Until driving home in the darkness,
The beams of the headlights gleaming
I saw bunnies dancing.


Drawing: Let Go by Nakisha

July 19 2013 A World without Color

If the World boasted no color, just various shades of grey
No azure blue of the ocean, or bluffs of swirly red clay
If houses would be crafted in grey stone, and the sun never did shine,
At least not in the mauve, pinkish hues, we watch for at sunset time.
Then, would the World be draped in sadness? Would M&Ms lose their thrill?
Would hatred have a foothold? Or would we all live in Pleasantville.

For it causes me now to wonder, as I ponder a World more sublime
That without any green for envy, or blue for sadness inside
There would be no people of color, white, black, yellow or brown.
With no red to color them angry, no yellow to help oppressors keep down.
Or would nothing be different, is this World as good as it gets?
No rainbows, no yellow brick road, no rose red, no regrets.

So I am mindful to live in the moment, regardless how drab my day
I can refuse to live in that colorless World, and choose to stand up and say
I see color as a philocalic expression, of oneness, escape from mundane
A celebration of life in grand union, all dressed in Techno display
So I challenge all those on the grey side, loose the chains , don’t delay
Or mechanically measure grey tones from birth to judgment day.

Social Mores July 14 2013

 

 

Sometimes

Social mores

Is nothing less

Than an attempt  to

Smother  

Creative response

To the world

Around us.

 

Others dictate

A way of life

Control traditions

Set the pace

Sensing

A new view

Will change

Their world

 

vcl

 

Rain sheets June 9 2013

Rain sheets

stream down

 mingling earthy

herbal flavors

 in the

 early black

of evening

An oasis

 of tranquility

 

The Language of a Smile

I rarely idle time away
But while waiting for a friend today
I settled on a bench~ in a children’s park
...
I watched the children screech and play
As they frolicked springtime hours away
And I envied them their freedom~ what a lark!

The sprinkler sprayed
The swings swayed
As children struggled gamely~ to disembark

As I enviously surveyed the glad display
I observed another watcher meet my gaze
My humor mirrored hers~ an answering smirk!

For even though our childhood days
Were but a mist and gone away
In that shared smile~ the memories lurked.

The Holiday book

I bought a book to read on my holiday.
As usual, I picked it with great deliberation.
My yearly ritual, I placed it in my backpack, near the front, for easy accessibility, hoping to grab a leisurely chapter, here and there on my journey.

 

This year was a different kind of holiday.

Exploring roots.
My first trip abroad, England, Scotland, and Holland.
Two weeks of travel. ” Time for two books”, I muse.
Well, my holiday is over.
I have unpacked my clothes, gifts and memories.
The book returned unread.
I used it to press flowers from the place of my ancestors instead.

Rain Day

We had quite a rain today.
Somnolently we perched on our balcony, Teacups in hand,
Watching June wash away May.                                     

Today I visited my daughter.

The bread maker.  I only have one.

That makes bread that is.

It is a relatively new skill and

I have been eyeing her offerings,

Watching as she has mixed and kneaded,

Nodding as she sighs over imperfections,

Smiling as I have tasted her baking,

 Knowing as only a bread maker knows  

That she is waiting for a sign of approval,

of entry into the sacred bread maker’s circle.

 

Now her Nana is a bread maker

Her bread is healthy and wholesome

Whole wheat.  

She taught me to be a bread maker

I thought nothing could compete…

Until today,

As I sat down to enjoy homemade crusty domed white

With a slab of butter…I told all at the table to

Be silent as I closed my eyes…almost a sacred moment.

Did she hold her breath?

I was transported in time to my Grandmother’s table

And I could almost hear her voice.

“A bit of blueberry jam would go well with that , dearie”

Yes Daughter, you have arrived. You may enter.

 

 

 

Spring 2013

Miss Spring is a darling, but most distracted.
I sauntered past her today. There she was, hunched over the table in the gazebo at the restaurant.
Examining the contents of her purse, doing spring cleaning? All spread out for display in giddy array.
I tried not to stare but it was difficult not to notice the bits of winter, the odd snowflake, crumpled tissue… probably used to wipe the tears of last year’s early cold...Remnants of autumn, an old Christmas program, various pressed flowers and one four leaf clover.

 She saw me observing as she applied a new spring lipstick to her lips, a glorious shade of cherry red. Stuffing her treasures back into her Gucci and raising a hand, she fluttered her fingers to the waiter. Spring had arrived for tea.

Earth Day 2013

 

Earth has a day
set aside by its inhabitants
to remind us that it lies beneath our feet.

It lies mostly quietly, sometimes grumbling
Stomped by history Trodden by explorers
Trampled by the insincere
Ever humble , refusing to admit defeat.

To those who long to view it’s beauty
Protect it’s future
Love it’s core
Comes a call to clannish stewardship
Before that memory is no more. 

VCL

 

Casting stones

In the dead of night I ponder

all my stones of awkward weight

Mentally skipping them o’r the water

of my mind's achromatic lake.

 

Casting stones of dreams and wishes

skimming hopes and fears obscure

Tossing far across the tide line

stones I’ve gathered on the shore.

 

Sweet release I feel unburdened

 As they sink down into the calm arcane

Yesterday’s stones are now a memory

 I stoop and gather an untouched day .

 

The first Rain

Merrily
I sit
in the rain
first of the season
Spring

Tipping
my head
my tongue juts
sampling chilly silver droplets
Rain 

The stars are out.

The stars are out tonight
They twinkle
and discuss the day to come
from their vantage point.
We look up and wonder.

Easter Ode

 

Amongst the myriads of odes ere written

From cross to tomb, or womb to sun-kissed Spring

Across time’s ever reaching tribute,

This special time is etched in angel’s wings.

 

It matters not that faith may sometimes waver

Or quick denial purse one’s lips to thin

None can deny this time of special savor,

Of somber quietus to the sprightliness it brings.

 

The earth is tuned to its own eternal music

So celebrate we will

Forsaking past to grasp the joy of friendship

Gifts of smiles for cross or eggs, or chocolate baskets filled.

 

My attempt at a Triolet :)

The geese are back
Although I haven't seem them
Have they settled in...unpacked?
The geese are back
Obviously didn't read the Almanac
Did I miss it, never heard a quack?
The geese are back
Although I haven't seen them.