Happy Halloween

From the patch

It sprouted wings!

Went masquerading

Those ghoulish things!

Big, orange and round

With bumpy face

This Jack ‘o Lantern

Must find a place

Oh, there he is

In spooky splendor

Sitting beside

A grave yard pyre

That evil eye

He fixes on me

Can only be found

On Halloween

BOO!!!

Happy Halloween!

^^^

It is Friday and I banged out a little 55 word poem for G-Man with a festive flair.

Have a great weekend!

It's Coming

Fluttering flags fly

full force

in face of

wind's whipped warnings

- winter's coming

Birds scuttle and dart

foraging for fall's 

sumptuous seeds scattered

amongst the blown leaves

A brown bushy tail

flicks and twitches

amidst tree trunks

unearthing edible organics

worthy of winter ware

Haste

must keep the pace

creatures great and small race

lest flurried activity wane

in winter's arms

Frenzied tasks ebb

as wind slacks, slows

and the last leaf drops

on a soft blanket

turned from brown to white

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!

Loving Frank

Loving Frank  by Nancy Horan; © 2007 Ballantyne Books

Our second book for my Monday night book club this year is Nancy Horan's first novel "Loving Frank". One of our members had read it and highly recommended it. Splashed across the cover, the words "New York Times Bestseller", gave promise to good things to come. Let's see, shall we...

The "Frank" that is mentioned on the cover is none other than Frank Lloyd Wright, an American architect that swept the nation and the world with his innovative ideas and organic architecture at the turn of the 19th century. While the novel certainly touches on his beliefs and mode of architecture, the main protaganist in the story is Mamah Borthwick Cheney. "Who," you ask? Well, Mamah was one of Frank's clients, but more importantly she was also his lover.

This novel beautifully recounts the love affair between two people that find themselves unhappily married to others. Both Frank and Mamah are floundering in love-less marriages, where their children serve to sustain their days. When Mamah and her husband Edwin commissioned Frank Lloyd Wright to design and build a new home for them, neither of them could have foreseen the life-altering consequences. With Edwin busy at the head of his company, it is left to Mamah to oversee  the design process for their new home. Mamah finds someone willing to talk and listen to her, that she does not have in her husband. She and Frank discover a compassionate ear in each other and their business partnership quickly leads beyond mere architectural plans into a torrid love affair.

While the story of an illicit love affair may seem tepid by today's standards, one must remember the time period in which this relationship occurred. Universities had only formally allowed women to study in 1868 in the US and 1880 in Canada. Mamah was lucky enough to have been privileged with a formal education. While she had been in the workforce before she was married, she left her job stayed home to raise her family upon becoming Mrs. Edwin Cheney. Her life and fortunes were dictated by that of her husband. In fact, women only gained the right to vote in 1919 in Canada and 1920 in the United States, long after Mamah and Frank met in 1903.

Horan crafts a fictional account of the real-life love affair between Mamah and Frank with an easy reading style. While she adheres to accuracy in the historical facts of their relationship, she gives a very probable and heart-wrenching view of what these lovers may have felt and gone through in the fight for their love. Giving insights into the Suffrage movement of the time serves to strengthen the characters and their struggles. I blissfully laid the book down 50 pages before the end to get some shut-eye, only to have the shocking conclusion to Horan's novel hit me in the light of the day. To know that their story was based in fact, made the novel all the more poignant. 

I followed up the novel with a quick peek into the Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation's website, to see some of the structures he designed and read the real-life history of his life and works. He was an interesting man, self-assured to a fault. As noted by the review on the interior flap of the book "If Frank Lloyd Wright is the reason people will pick up this book, Mamah Borthwick is the reason they will keep reading it -Chicago Tribune". I read it to the end and have to agree. Mamah's life was hounded by challenges, but she persevered and stayed true to self till the end. She was quite a woman during a difficult time and this novel was well worth the read.

The very bad, no good, terrible day

The very bad, no good, terrible day
started yesterday
with meetings delayed
or thrown aside (I'm afraid)

No time to cancel the poor
babysitter's tour
with my babe's that adore
her infectious crafts (always more!)

a book not read
when I finally laid my head
to pillow for rest
you will finish! (my brain requests)

tomorrow dawned bleary
and my sighs made me teary
but the coffee was put on
and rain gear was planned to don

the house was left in a flurry
(we are always in a hurry)
but our efforts were for naught
as the bus had left (my curses fought)

My children begged to follow
- the will to fight was hollow
The field trip could be saved,
but our trek slowed on roads unpaved.

A pee break made us miss
the wagon ride of bliss
so I surrendered to fate
giving that we were too late.

Turned the van back to construction row
a new path we would go.
For apples we would look
and at the sand hill I finished the book!

Now to bed I fly
as I can barely lift an eye
I hope for a new day to be
more graceful for you and me...