simple thoughts on life

simple thoughts on life

changing year, changing patterns

new fires bring in light

This is the last Wednesday of the year.

This is my last offering for OneShotWednesday.

I am hoping that bright and beautiful things will be ushered in 

in the new year

~2011~

*photo from http://www.bbc.co.uk/liverpool/content/image_galleries/fireworks07_gallery.shtml?8

The End of the (OSW) Year

A Christmas Poem

naw

hmmmm...


what then?

haiku for you

to read, analyze, and rate

against doting peers

well,

that doesn't thrill me

although it fits

cinquain
brave, artless
rhyming, scheming, plodding
this isn't going anywhere
poetry

Lord, this is the last OneShot for the year!
Pressures on...
here we go.


...
.....
The Christmas goose
and Christmas gander
just set loose
for a little wander
where to? they wonder
as their route around
they did ponder
with trailing fox none too confound
A stop upon a little mound
helped the straggler
to make up ground
and sneak in a littler nearer
Feathers flying to the sky high
alas the fox is left with nigh Christmas chicken pie.

Oh, feckless words!
what sonnet is this?
that tries my brain
and poetic nerves
with none a thought
you do deserve
the trash heap abyss
no more to strain
a pen's sweet curves
Ai- just flow is sought
but for today, I will away
and grace One Shot Wednesday with A New Day

The Last Night

My vigil full
with heavy heart
beside you sat
to walk the last night.

The last night ravaged
Your little soul.
No power had I,
but to share the sorrow.

The sorrow mounted
with gasping breath.
My tears filled up
Your heaving chest.

Your heaving chest
with aching thrusts.
I smoothed the ruffles
with Reiki's trust.

Trust you offered
with pleading eyes.
I feel I faltered
and cannot stem my cries.

My cries drip from me
in unending stream
For the breath has left you
no more to dream.

To dream, to dream
that's what's left twould seem
So I light a candle
and hold vigil bereaved.

~~~

One Shot Wednesday

A Winter's Day

Late last night

on my little side street

sat a city truck

with flashing lights replete.

My heart it sank

as questions began to mount.

What was going on?

What fresh hell could I now count?

 Early this morning

my fears were realized.

 A knock on the door

brought bad news, I surmised.

"The water'll be turned off,"

a man clad in orange declared.

A water main break;

The cause of this new despair.

So we watched from the window

as a hole was dug.

Morning entertainment; cool!

For another snowy day funk.

Well, on the seventh day of December

the numbers began to add.

Would you care to do the math

for my wintry woes comrade?

12 yellow flags

11 Tonnes of dirt (or something like that to fill the hole in the road afterwards)

10 AM - When I went out with coffees (and to survey the damage)

9 AM - When they started to dig

8 AM - When they knocked on the door

7th Heaven - for me as they plowed the driveway & brushed off the van (in appreciation for coffee)

6 Big orange pylons

5 City workers

4 Cups of coffee (plus 1 tea for the poor guys stuck out in the snow)

3 G-Tel vans (line locating crew)

2 City trucks

and 1 Back hoe to dig the hole...

 Happy Winter Days my friends!
Oh, and I am jumping on early for One Shot Wednesday this week. Enjoy!!

December 1st

deck the halls with...
hmm, how shall I deck?
garlands add a touch of bliss
plus reindeer, what the heck!

Can I find the snow globes,
maybe a snowman or two?
What happened to Santa's wardrobe?
His hat has been coloured blue!

tum, tee, dum tumm...
There's the angels three
I don't remember where this jingle bear came from,
but there's my old ceramic lit-up tree!

Oh, it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...
yes, the flakes are in the air
I have started on my shopping checklist
and Bob & Doug McKenzie are singing the 12 days of Christmas without a care

My sides are tickled raw
for their 2 pounds of back bacon and beer in a tree,
yes True Canadians, Hahaha
Oh, let's pull out all the other Christmas CDs!

Well, I should vacuum and dust the house
so that I can place the ornaments just so
ah, my favourite; Mrs. Claus & her spouse!
Yup, December 1st and the festive season has hit me all aglow!

Happy Holiday!
from little ole me
at a New Day
playing the Oneshot Wednesday spree

An Ode to my Love

Perhaps it is the wine that tickles me,

but I envisage thee

and my heart swells.

My lips quiver with delight.

Ah, the words; what a plight!

The smile is all I can provide.

The sun leaves my view,

although it has barely touched you,

and I am a day closer to love.

A hug from your name,

No other is the same.

I ache with anticipation.

I must fill my glass

to make the night pass

and make my dreams a reality.

{}

Here is a taste 

of juvenile love's poetry;

A verse written

while I wandered Europe's backpacking trails

and my heart dreamed

of a lover missed

back home in Canada

to all that dare...

full of sunshine and smiles
(perchance that vitamin D
doth work?)
I brave the soggy stares
of myriad sombre folk.

November rain
is not to blame,
as clouds have only dropped
scant cool reserves
to shatter soul's sentinel refrains.

Nay, the gray
coat of depression lay
in another's arms
far from the weather's watch,
I do surmise.

Not for me to say
what causes this sad foray
rather perk up my orb
and throw Mama's ball of bliss
at the drowsy midlins that  surround me

You!

turn that frown upside down!!

You!

doe-si-doe down the middle!

Hup!!

All of you now;
let's kick up our heels
and let out a holler
for a release with a bray
unclogs energy fodder

I am stamping my feet
and raising arms high
searching for giggles
with my antics;
I try

a final whoop
another flung jig
sweat wiped from my brow
I bow and curtsy
for this fine shindig

What, you didn't know
that the party was in town?
Why it's Wednesday eve!
and the Oneshot crew
is having their slamdown!

I must hurry now
if I want to add mine
the clock's ticking down
and Midnight's curfew
is where they draw the line.

So join in the fun
and throw some words in the air
generous hearts wait to catch them
offering praise and courage
to all that dare...

------------------------------------------------------------------
Okay you good folk. It is late and I am no expert on this medium, but I have made an attempt at a reading.

Leaving the Light on

I sit in the silence of my own creation. 

for  this,

Today

I am grateful. 

I have peace in my little space.

My tears, a dear memory

held close to my heart.

They are a piece of my ever- following soul,

but they do not own me 

anymore.

 ~

Now,

tears of dismay 

flow heavy.

Too many shattered ghosts

treading through carefully crafted worlds

fallen apart

from false promises.

Lo, 

fine spirits spun out in flux 

on yesterday's prayers forgotten

~

I held love in my hand,

not perfect,

not always soft, kind or cuddly,

but steadfast and strong.

Is it so hard to believe

that my lumpen love

was the rarest golden ember

that others beseech,

reach for its flawed facets

when that ember speaks to all?

~

I hear the echo.

I see the waves that ripple 

through times turbulent

remember well my "enough?"

and feel

whimpering for those lost

that I cannot help

or point the way for,

but know

 that I will hold my light out to forever.

~

***

Swirling winds of separation

seem to be the norm in my friendship circle at present.

It makes me thoughtful and sad

for those walking that path of thorns

~loving thoughts sent to you all~

maybe...

It all started with a look;
first tentative glances
hidden under smiling brows and
my heart strung out on adrenaline's maybes
   oh yes, baby,
   maybe, maybe...


You looked at me
and my smile grew wider.
My soul tripped over clumsy feet
forgotten how to walk
  just want to talk
  and maybe walk...

A finger brushed,
then explored my waiting hand
while exploding senses
lit fire to the world.
   my sanity unfurled
   to maybe step in your world...

Now steps fall soft
and periphery cartoons
fade to tucked away corners
of my mind with a kiss;
   for this little miss,
   maybe just a kiss...

Swept into nevermore
on first love's bliss
memories shine and blur.
Was it really like this?
  heaven in a kiss
  or did I maybe dream this?

I hold the light
of fairy tale bright,
yet know that love's breath grows old
and shrugged shoulders cold,
but still I dream
love exists yet, I scream!
   the world echoes back
   Maybe, maybe...

()

I  believe in  fairy  tales and  lover's  eyes. 

My  heart sings poetry with every beat

& I live to hear those words resound.

Speak to me of love

and poetry.

Sing to me your OneShot

The Poem

Full of hopes and dreams

I pray.

Every word a purpose plotted

my gift to me

and the world

blown into the ethers

on wings of love and faith,

wishes for happy homes

in other people's hearts

If only,

if only...

It begins with me

indeed,

but syllables plucked 

from the air,

this artist's scribe

with words sprung from finger's pen

begging to fill

the voice of the wind

as authored by

whom; God's will?

or perhaps just me?

*

Always late to the table,

but still offering a few meager words to share

just to say I was there

at One Shot Wednesday.

Sonic Drum Healing

soft silk

that  slides

 in my ear

via singing

bowls and shruti box

a hiss 

so fine it lingers

behind my eyes

as I float 

on 

tonal

dreamy notes

hrrumm

...

ting

it releases

tensions held

dripping down the didgeridoo

replete with the resonance

of a rain stick

in a room 

full

of recovering

reasons

to live life to the full.

a soft gong

returns us to today

a better place to pray

on knees 

no longer able to 

bend

for some

but  willing

to beat out

their dreams on a drum

~

If you are interested and willing, check out the ever-growing community at One Stop Poetry, where they host a weekly OneShot poetry writing circle. There is an amazing assortment of artists that are willing to share their poetic wares. Happy Wednesday!

Nothing Says I Love You Like...

Nothing Says I Love You Like A Skull Ornament

I have to preface this post today. I hang out with some interesting people. Some wonderfully, loving, artistic folks, that sometimes have a slightly skewed bent to them. ahem, a little of the macabre, if you will. Yes, they create cute little kitty cats, bunnies, fairies, and a whimsical moose or two, but their newest venture has a decidedly darker humour to it. I don't always understand it, but I have to love it. Please check out the BooGirls Etsy shop and show some love to these unique artists who have created and hand-painted all these metal ornaments just in time for Christmas.

Love

dark eyes

twirling in a miasma of 

twisted thoughts

wishing,

waiting for the punishing,

sweet tantalizingly

torturous words

to wrench themselves

from my lips

"I love you"

only to spin headlong

into another world

of questions,

feelings bigger than 

one's own world

can fathom 

defeat

nothing says i love you

like a skull

~

I have also linked up with my friends at One Shot again this week for their weekly One Stop Poetry gig. Write on my friends, write on...

my rock

-rock-

My dear

your birthday nears

thoughts drift to you

remembered.

-Grief-

once held

in stagnant arms

enfolded life in limbo

waiting

-life-

slowly rises

with drifting skies

to patch a path

renewal

-tomorrow-

silver linings

bright coloured mittens

a few favourite things

hope

~

"Let today embrace the past with remembrance and the future with longing"

quote from "The Prophet" by Khalil Gibran

Wednesday shall break in a scant few minutes. I must hasten to bed, but offer up a cinquain poem of hope.

Something I cling to, crave and try to hold in my heart

with memories

Happy OneShot Wednesday.

Remembering October

Ok, I am totally jamming out tonight. Alan Cross is on the radio with a listen to the history of ska. For those that are not familiar with ska, it is akin to reggae and rocksteady, but boppier. It is also an older musical form. There is a very distinct off beat and there is almost always a heavy influence in the brass department (trombones and trumpets) as well we saxophone, guitar, bass guitar and drums. Big artists were Desmond Dekker, English Beat, The Specials, Prince Buster, Toots and the Maytals, the Skatalites, Madness, The Clash continuing on up to more recently The Mighty, Mighty Bosstones and No Doubt. There has been several different waves of ska, from the original styles that came out of Jamaica in the 1950s and 60s, to the British Two-Tone Invasion in the 70s with other waves in the 80s and the 90s finally making some headway into the US. I want to share something, but am struggling as to what might work best. I love older ska, which has a certain heavy hand in swing, but grew up with The Specials and English Beat. "Mirror in the Bathroom" was a frequent request at high school dances. I think that I will go back to some of the origins though with a taste of Desmond Dekker, arguably one of the kings of ska that had a wide influence on the music of the day and musicians that fall under other umbrellas from reggae, to punk  with many things in between. Enjoy!

~~~~~
PS. You were right Patti. I went to bed and had another poem running round my head. I will share this one with you and the good folks at OneShot.

October Goodbyes


Her words whipped away
in the October air;
Unseasonably warm for
   this day.

Water fell to Earth
piled high in preparation,
but not quite ready for
   this moment.

A pop and a fizz
slowly saluted you while
tears, words, flowers and lager offered
   this goodbye.

Strength carried her
on unseen wings
into tomorrow's world
   with sorrow.

Gleefully released little ones

scooped clodfuls of dirt up

under parent's watchful eye

   with sweet sadness.

Children's laughter and scrabbling fingers
remembered, responded and rejoiced
filling memory's hole
   with joy.

The wind kissed her limp hair
with soft hands that waved goodbye
to a wife's sagging shoulders
   for eternity.


*Blessed be the children for they go where we fear to tread with innocence and love. Their purity and innocence lighten any moments from birth to death...


  

First Moments

new babe
on legs none too sturdy
still blinking away
memories of birth, seemingly early

Majestic

stunned in moments 

too fresh to comprehend

with a walk round the hay patch

and audience's eyes to lend

Miraculous

Ah, Mama stands close

spent, yet dutifully present

ready to give life eternal

to child's needs in this moment

Your privacy
lost in ticket sales

by unscrupulous flashes
of visitors over the rails

Anon,
Whilst camera's eye

does pry

can we deny

the eyes of the young

with purity of soul

dipped in a white halo
with vision?

~~~~~

This wobbly newborn drew me in with awe at new life, juxtaposed against the spinning madness of a local fair. I was smitten. 

Tomorrow's poetry fare over at OneShot is already up and running, so head on over and take a peek at the offerings this week. 

transient lovers

transient lovers
passed slowly in the night
drawn by body's warmth
like moths to a light

weaving word coquettish
graceful was thine dance
static smiles; minus passion's lust
just hollow eyes to fill stilled glance

whither did I stay there?
why the draw so strong?
-a slave to electric urges
held captivated too long

aching arms akimbo
mine heart mumbles out a beat
with lips drawn thin I relinquish and know
that for romance I must call defeat.

gilded wings might come to call
and beg for fun from me.
Aye, tomorrow may,
these dreams I admit to pray,
but for now my passion is me
   and thee

I am late to the table, but my friends at One Shot put out a wonderful gathering of talented poets to pool their creativity amongst. If you have ever wanted to put pen to paper  and spruce some words up into a poem you will love this supportive network. Don't take my word for it though; go enjoy yourself!

letting go...

I am so spent.

gritty eyes not willing 

to look forth into

 the day any more.

how many years

 until I can do the fist pump

to the bus stop on

the first day of school?

Not today, yet.

Nor tomorrow at my guess,

but perhaps I will

by the last day of class.

^^^

Hey, what the heck. This Haiku-esque poem counts as enough for the night.  Both my babies started school for the first time today. My little white lie was that I was excited for them and that was why moisture was dripping off my chin. They don't need to know that this is another stop on the grief journey for me,

but I will survive...

I have already.

The school bus brought them home at the end of the day.

Together.

It will take them to school on their next day

and the day after that

and after that...

Not All

Days pass,
steady in their march.
Days pass
standing tall,
I lean into their grace.

Some days
bowed to memory,
bent with responsibility,
shoulders sore with strain;
some days
   I break.

I break
as I need to.
I break
and pour forth
all the tears hidden in
carefully concealed caverns.

I break
full of emotion
overwhelmed by today,
this moment
   Now.

This day
shuddering shoulders squeeze
so inglorious with spit and snot.
I shake the sorrows out
   spent.
This day

Now,
in my weak and wilted way
I lie down
giving up control.
I am not all.
I am just me
doing what I can do
getting stronger for the journey
Now

Beauty Makeover

floor

uneven, cracked

shifting, crumbling, breaking

needing to be repaired

Disappointment

bathroom

messy, fractured

heaving, popping, cracking

one way to fix the floor

tile-less

renovation

necessary, timely

removing, replacing, resealing

hope to get more than three years

gratitude

serenity

placid, unfazed

screwing, sizing, skim-coating

all part of a beauty renewal

master bath floor

~

Here is a little Cinquain poem for the good people at One Shot about a bathroom repair job going on amidst the rest of life's little intricacies. It is dedicated to the Tile Guy (aka Murray)! He heard my shout out for help around the house and showed up with a contractor hat on. Mwah! The best; you are the best!! Hopefully I can post some pics of  a brand new floor before I know it. Enjoy and Happy Wednesday! 

August

I fill my days with running
   I try...
The images are cunning
   I cry...
They come to me 'tween heartbeats
   and pry...
Reminding me of anniversaries
   thoughts fly...

The harvest fills
my hands and days.
I stock my shelves
with jams and pray
that frozen images
will away,
   just for today...
   I pray...

I fill my days with running

   I try...

The images are cunning

   I cry...

They come to me 'tween heartbeats

   and pry...

Reminding me of anniversaries

   thoughts fly...

Your hands so cold
are but a dream.
Their sturdy tasks
so far it seems.
While once
you stood beside my bed,
now memory
lies close instead.

I fill my days with running

   I try...

The images are cunning

   I cry...

They come to me 'tween heartbeats

   and pry...

Reminding me of anniversaries

   thoughts fly...

   August

The waning days of life

 unfold.

Inside my head

my stories told.

best left to lie

til pillows hold

yesterday's gifts

that still feel bold.

   August

I fill my days with running

   I try...

The images are cunning

   I cry...

They come to me 'tween heartbeats

   and pry...

Reminding me of anniversaries

   thoughts fly...

  August

just for today...

  memories

I pray...

  August

-------

Busy days keep me running, but I cannot forget some things. My friends at OneShot are one of them.