skate

skate-o-rama
slow train pile ups
cant stop
keep rolling
long legs and arms popping out to snag the timid
as one goes down
they all fall over
dominoes with wheels
down again and up they bounce
forever optimistic
someday they will be THAT kid
the one who can split the limbo
and cross over and go
backward
for now they hug the wall
around again
as many times as it takes

out the door

Lest you think me perfect
I am going to confess
getting out the door can leave me somewhat quite the mess
destination does not matter
just the getting to the car
makes me madder than a hatter
shouting loud
declaring war
all the "mommy mommy MOMMY!"
tends to make me lose my head
one more task I find unfinished
and I'm going back to bed
find your shoes and clean your room and don't forget to get the light
hurry up or we"ll be late
this mommy tends to get uptight
I don't mean to make you nervous
I don't want to see you cry
just remember,
mommy loves you
(and you're much too young to die)

 

strike while the iron is hot

Day 16
A painful memory...

it started out a regular day
with wrinkles
on my face
from sleeping hard against the softness of the pillow
i found that creases deep adorned the dress
i had forgotten to prepare
the night before
when dreams began to beckon
or mom
with bellows sweet
issued the lights out call
that teenagers all
with passion hate
i felt the panic
on that morn
of being unprepared
so quickly pressed I on
and on and on
a never ending circle of cotton
standing between me and my bagel
i rushed
and made it just
as papa honked the horn
the pasted smile upon my face
a portrait of relief
more than happiness
we made our blessed destination
just on time
you can't be late for God you know
i sighed and thought about my lunch
and wondered bout a nap
but mostly just was glad to not be rushed

this boring tale you think is told
except the part that brings the pain
and this is where it really does pick up
that girl in all her hurry
quite forgot that neatness counts
and later when reminded 
to please refile the elements of her domesticity
she reached in haste
not for the handle but the metal face
and melted skin
against the heat of iron
still plugged in

a lesson learned in pain is never ever soon forgot
contrary to the oft repeated proverb
no matter what the hurry
always think before you act
and never...ever...strike while the iron is hot

Bye folks! See you tomorrow!

Join all my drawing comrades...for the next exciting episode of....

Our other participants:

Don Hillson

Niki Nowell
Bill Davis
GirlyGeeky
Free2B2Much
Notes From The Backseat
Niki Turner [NEW!]
Zoe Nowell [NEW!]
Marilyn Quinsaat [posting on Facebook]
Kimmy Haines [posting on Facebook]
Karen Haines (no url provided; will update)

Family Portait

The Family Portrait

the family portrait
a door in the wall
with scratching
and marking
to measure how tall
a race it would seem
tho the runners move slow
they all crow and look down
on the ones still below
then they turn their eyes skyward
and stretch to catch up
with the lanky fast growth spurters
sitting on top
til the sad happy day
comes too soon for us all
when the young ones pass mom
and mark dad for a fall...


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Drawing challenge list.

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Girl

See ya tomorrow!

battle of wills

bananas have a way
of making me feel dumb
they call to me
their quirky shape
so ergonomic
inviting me with ripened sweetness
just shy of spots
a tiny hint of green on top
they woo
and I give in
and that is where it all begins
they mock me as
that stem holds on
no matter how I ply
and twist
until what would be my first delicate bite
has turned to mush
I groan
but soldier on
a battle of wills
with the yellow fruit
I have it on the ropes
and smile as I pull back the flesh
in one long strip
but no
banana wins again
infuriating me with blasted stringy things
that break
and loop back
sticky on my hand
til one by one
I pinch them off
victorious
I gloat
but then I hear the snickering
and turn my conquest
end for end
and see the blackened spot

memory quilt

I think that grief cannot be reconciled
only recycled
95% post consumer content
used-reformed-resized
like reincarnation
if I believed in such a thing

today grief shows itself
first as a dream
come early
with intent to haunt my day with longing
awakened with a start
I breathe a cold beginning
trying hard to both remember and forget

now grief sits on me as a memory
small pieces of a once used love
reformed into a quilt of yesterdays
sweet and touchable
a warm place
worn almost bare
and smoothed with use
it wraps around my heart
and catches tears that flow
it comforts me
as I remember happiness
and long for home

I like music

I like music
it is not messy
as can art so be
with throwing
colors on a canvas
or pots
music throws a sound
inviting you to catch
a cat and mouse
a freeze tag game
amongst the shadows
of your heart and soul
there is no cleanup after music
it just comes and strikes your fancy
never leaving bits or stingy things
to wrap around your toes
tho often strands of notes
continue
and you may well find
the sharpest corners of your
insides
all wrapped up with lyrics
that refuse to leave
i like music
from the sit down dinner crooning
to the bottom wiggling
finger snapping
bob your head
baffooning
where you think that no-one notices
your quiet participation
but they do
but you don't care at that point
anyway
I like how the thumping of a sound wave
can shove aside a funk
how a lullaby can drop an eye
so dreams can come
and I like how a song
can hit your wake up heart
and set a color tone
like wearing flowered glasses
making all the world
a cooler place
because your feet are dancing
I like music
cuz its cheaper
and it doesn't take supplies
and you always have it with you
always
I like music
the end

unfinished

I want to wear a bird today
and put on bright red socks
and fly away
to where the cuckoos play
although the ground
around
is full of rocks
the butterflies
who bounce upon the air
as if the breeze
were bouncy houses
all blown up to please
continue
to amuse
my sense of longing
and relieve
the wait I feel
on days when life
comes first and dreams delay...

grim poetry

today I am found sick
and sick is as a colorless rainbow
completely useless in its existence
unless of course one sees the benefit of white celled war
in strengthening
one hardly knows just how to set a peaceful cap
on sniffles rife with snot
and coughing lungs all blown apart with rifle shots
amongst the dire need for sleep
will this day end
one questions yet again
while watching one and nother of the group go down
a viral epidemic with a piteous grip
it holds the family captive
they moan and groan
and wish for retribution
but it will not be found
for I am sick...

your kiss

Kiss me much my darling
for nothing else can satisfy
like lips speaking softly
yours on mine
a dance of flesh on flesh.

No words are needed
for the language of the kiss
communicates fond wishes,
earnest desires,
flaming passions,
imparted upon parted lips
in sentences too deep
for verbal utterances.

One kiss,
the culmination of a thousand looks
eyes closed we see much more
than sight alone can tell.

We meet
and having met,
the longing grows far dearer
forever driven
I search for loves sweet ending
eternal new beginning
found only
in your kiss.

closer in

when trust is not enough
to make things better
breathing is a minefield of regret
sunlight blinds your hope
and comfort bleeds

ones who seem to have it figured out
have left you shockingly alone
tho they surround you with their bodies
and their hands feel warm
their prayers point coldly to a door
where Heaven waits
while you look
in desperation
for the key

you know the right
and everybody tells you
just exactly how to get it done
but you know...
you know
that what they say is bogus
cuz if they're right
you're dead

they say to trust
but you are doubtful
they say get still
but you can't stop
they say reading holy words will bring you comfort
but the ones you find just damn you
and that brings sweet relief
because at least it asks for nothing

so you wake up to another day of darkness
jump through hoops
and beat your fists on walls
then feel the guilt
heaped overflowing
by your lack of self control

you did it wrong again
all your whining and complaining
must have surely sent Him packing
even tho
they say (those ones who know)
He waits
and tapping holy fingers
rests in peace
til you calm down

then one small thought breaks through
(when) fits of rage
are all you have to work with
one small thought is all it takes
(when) unfairness seems to rule your life
one small thought...
a murmur really
that sounds crazy sane and right
"they're wrong"...

So cry your heart out baby
weep the worry
rivers down your Papa's heart

when it all comes crashing

throw your thoughts
and hurl the doubts
then climb up on the shards
of broken dreams
and flow your tears

and He will call to you
tho you may not hear
He will whisper
and He will cry for you
when all your tears are gone
and lost among the ashes

when you feel emptied
and alone
He stands
among your dread
raging with you
stronger than defeat
able to withstand
your hate

when all the right words
lose their meaning
and the weeping
comes again
just open up and throw your head back
so the howls can tumble freely
He will hold them safely
while He weeps
and draws you closer in

honesty

I don't want to know about your savior
your life story don't mean nothing
to my used up heart
I just try to get through each day
and that has to be enough for me
so go away with your big stories
and your promises of rescue
from the life at least I understand
why do I want to trade it for
some unknown world that sounds too good
all I hear are words of empty praise
for a man I never heard of
from a stranger I have no reason yet to trust
you don't know where I been walking
don't be actin like we're long lost buds
put away your papers and your leather covered book
I don't want or need your good intentions
in my life
stuff your agenda in a secret place and lose it
I don't see the need you see in me
and I don't care to have you point it out
fact is
if I don't know you
I don't give a flyin flip about your God
I probably have heard of him before or known him long ago
but that was then
I got to deal with now
what he is to you is really none of my affair
and what he is or was to me is none of yours
if you really want to meet me where I am
find out where my heart hangs out
don't assume you know
because the pity breaks into your comfort zone
don't pretend that we're the same
or that I am like the last poor soul you came across
get to know me
it will not be easy
love me
with my wicked ways
live life with me awhile
and see what I see everyday
then introduce me to the one you love
the most
but honestly
by then
I bet we will have already met

cloud dancer

my son is such a one that thinking men might think him silly in the head
but silly he is not
he is a thinker of ethereal things that skip along outside the boundaried mind

my son is such a one that focused men would tend to disregard him as distracted
when fact is that he does not idly dwell in nothingland
but takes his journey's road through ethan-world
because the colors there are brighter

my son is such a one that learned men might wonder at his wit and call it half
tho in reality the concept of intelligence
to him is nothing more than folly
he seems to sense the need to think inside the box
but such an act would be as difficult for him
as life is for conformist folks who dare to try and dream outside

my son in younger times could call upon creative muse
and dance his way through childhood games
in ways that made attention paying grown-ups awe
while other children chose to be a tree
this child would chose instead to be the leaves in process of revealing their fall color
when others played charades by being butterflies or bacon
my son became his views of water dripping through a straw

my son cannot quite seem to grasp the concepts of mundane and ordinary
his thoughts instead refuse to leave the realm of the bizarre
he sparkles up the daily grind
with questions that can blow your mind
and often seems too hard to find amongst the wreckage of the logical

he dwells, my son, in all his glory
challenging convention while his spirit soars
refusing ropes that hold him down
he bounces
from one thought cloud to another
and I suspect he watches with a smirk
and whispers
"freedom!"
for all with ears to hear

These days

The days are long these days
and hopefully I swim below the cloudless skies
and wish for wonder but instead find repetition.

Again I think I found the answer
tho the question keeps eluding all my sense of right and wrong.

Does it matter if I judge for pity sakes
and leave the grace and mercy up to God?

Constantly reminded of my lack I pull for shore
the great grey mist my goal.

Can I choose my path by choosing not to follow yours?

Your actions mirror fears I see reflecting back on me.
I do not want your life. I fear it actually.
Your closeness can point out the place
my judgement
of you is really distaste for myself.

Observation and reception
can weigh heavy on my heart.

Your intentions and considerations
tangled under words and tone.

I will not be consumed because you let me down.

Again.

My love for who you are does not completely cover what you do.

Reason is not excuse.

My understanding does not grant you freedom to destroy.

So no, I will not let you batter me.
I will release your life and choice to you and keep mine for myself.

But I will love you still.
Forgiving is a living thing that breathes and sighs and shouts.
Still reaching out
my heart
tho broken
wants to let you in.

Again.

And hopefully the wonder will appear
this time.

always

what I know is this

when I can't hear or see or touch...

when my life is too big or too small...

when I know without a doubt that I am a faker in all respects...

I sit with Papa and I listen.

And sometimes it takes a while to hear.

But when I do the answer is always.
always.

A steady presence that never wavers.

And tho I try to deny it.

I rage against it.

I holler at the injustice of it all.

Or weep at the insanity.

always.

There may be other words added.

Sometimes redirection.

Sometimes refocus on the same path.

But to find that I am never...ever....alone

stills my heart.

And I can say "I trust you"

when I can't do anything else at all.

marbles

marbles running trough my head
click-clack talking rise til bed
never ending dialogue

marbles hooting click-clack calls
whilst shooting down white marble halls
rebelling some against the cleanliness of sanity

marbles singing click-clack songs
preferring first to write the wrongs
forgiveness sometimes riding on a melody

marbles holding click-clack races
up and down the marble faces
tracing paths among the monuments of memory

marbles writing click-clack lists
sounding more like little fists
beating drums

marbles tied in click-click sacks
wrapped in ribbon covered packs
keeping safe

marbles tumbling click-clack falls
bouncing round and hitting walls
all contained

until they're not.

RiverDance

I watch the river dance and weave itself
around each obstacle that pushes back
and wonder at eternity's simplicity.

The power surge that water brings
could rightly flatten anything
yet power chooses first to step aside
in peaceful search of rest.

To wander here and there
is not efficient and it's clear that
a to b is really not the point.

The peaceful route takes longer
and it looks completely foolish
but I doubt if hurry matters
or if keeping up appearances appeals at all.

Completely doubling back
upon the previously chosen path
retracing yet again the route it took before.
The river pushes on until some rock or hard place
stands and pushes back
and then it dances by
averting conflict with a wave and watery smile.

It seems sometimes like Maker placed each rock and crevice
just so He could trace a lifepath full of scenic routes.
Preferring most to squeeze in miles of going round and coming back
in twists and twirls that pretty much ensure revisit
to that very same position thought long gone.
Yet this time seeing that same hard spot from a victors view
the backside looks so tame as water gurgles on and looks behind
to watch the conflict float away.

River takes the Makers hand repeatedly each day
as willingly he gives up strength and capability
to follow down a different route
that calls for letting go of self determination
to choose the path less obvious
and find the joy in wandering.

me

Lip-prints on the mirror
love songs in the air
every time I catch a glimpse
I have to stop and stare.
A not so secret longing
to admire
my desire ever true
I only want to spend my days with you.

I never know just how excited
I might be
to see
to spend a moment
of my time
in precious harmony
the glee
becomes unruly
yet it's awfully sweet and true
I'm blue
when thinking thoughts of anything but you

I find I giggle right out loud
at every smart remark
I simply can't believe
the awesome power
each jot and tittle pulls apart
the mundane thoughts
and building blocks
of common life
and leaves in place
a literary tower.

I crown you with my favor
and you crown me with your love
together we are quite a combination.
And tho the adoration
looks like worship
in relation
to elation
it is passion
that's the fashion of my heart

I simply cannot hide my true emotion
Marvelous is understating you
your genius wit I never doubt
amusing stories fly about
my laughter just comes rolling out
and every breath intended to pitch woo
it's true
I am addicted
to you.

now

"Love the people" I hear it in my heart but get confused by all my noise. People are so very hard to love.

"How can I just stand up and love them with your Papa heart?", I ask...not really wanting yet to hear the answer to the question I propose.

"Love them in the now." He says and softly He explains while I begin to listen.

"Not soon,

or when,

Not if

or then

but now.

Not judging actions as if actions swayed the vote.

Not holding back a part for later's full confession.

Not wishing something different or waiting til the better comes along.

now.

The way we are in heavens eyes-

Like newly given love upon a sweet face freshly born of mamas womb.

Like starry eyes aglow with treasures sparkle.

Like first discovery and well worn comfort all wrapped up in one delicious bundle.

now.

Love given freely-

Imperfection seen and cherished knowing strength for weakness triumphs yet again.

Love lavished rightly-

Hearts encircled fiercely in velvet gentle arms.

Love tenderly appointed-

One precious taste of being fully realized and accepted in sweet bliss.

now.

In this moment,

for all you are,

or not,

You are Loved.

Deserving Fathers hand upon your head as surely as the sky deserves the wind.

The eagle soars, not wishing more or less than flight.

For flight is what it is.

Creature created and loved in completeness with all that is whole-

the Fathers heart.

We too, created, and deserving, not for any reason except for love.

now.

We are loved.

He loves us.

Our Father-our lover-our brother-

At once sweetly cherished, fiercely protected, tenderly understood.

We are Loved.

If only our hearts could open a little wider.

To see our makers love for what it is.

To smile in the warmth rained down upon us

And know-

Truly know-

That beyond anything that was,

or is,

or could be-

We are loved.

dedicated to my sisters

Do you know how wild and wonderful you are?
Arrayed in splendor
grand
sublime
The words ring hollow when compared to your great worth.

You are not object. You are entity.
You cannot be contained nor neatly rounded off to fit the size and shape
of any pre determined peg hole.

You are soft and strong. Stoic and emotive. Delighter and delight.

You shoulder pain that would reduce most men to fetal curled positions
rocking back and forth while calling for their mamas.
Those called for mamas are our sisters strong
with wild heartbeats
they pound the drums of war upon the taunts of any enemy
brave or dumb enough to pick a fight with loved ones.
These sisters feel the hurts not only of themselves but those around
both seen and felt for miles
as sadness from a hurting one sings siren calls for help
that woos a mama/sister heart to actions
far beyond the realms of personal protection.

Determination to see justice win can fuel another and another tender stroke
upon a fevered brow .
Satisfaction in a tended heart can keep a sister soothing long into the night.
Tenderness prevails upon exhaustion flooding broken hearts that beat
both in and out of their own breast.

Strength borne of softness.

These same brave sisters also taste the ache of weakness
brought about by failure in their own sweet hearts to keep it all together.
Some stand defiant
raising fists against the storms.
You will not see them cry out even tho the tears may blur their eyes
with filmy puddles of frustration.
They cannot bend for fear of breaking.
Knowing not that breaking can unbend the knots of time.

Some other sisters swallow hope like pills and loose themselves in tears
that never cease to wet their cheeks and pillows
crying on
til spent with agony and wasted time
and dreams left unfulfilled by life
filled up with daily chores.

Searching skies for answers to their self perceived laziness and lack of motivation.
Wailing long and hard because to get it done feels bigger than the talents they possess.
They look upon themselves...these sisters...as inadequate or faulty in their current state.
A longing rises up to be some more.

Emotion runs the stoic out of town.

It's true, we sisters often fail at bringing forth the beauty as we see it
played upon the mind and heart and soul.
We wish the wishes of completeness and perfection that seem still farther than our grasp.
We secretly suspect that what is needed is not possible with what's been given
as we tend to blame ourselves.
We sisters know that in us lies the answers if only we could somehow
step aside while stepping up.

Do you know how wild and wonderful you are?

The answers here lie not in form as if by solving problems we could shoot solutions
like bullets at a chosen target.
We sisters work within each moment to extract the tidbits of redemption
that can save a day or even turn a minute.

We do not always get to know the why's as we proceed
towards an unseen goal along a hidden path.

We often have to buck it up when all we want to do is sit and melt.

We do not give ourselves the credit we give others
for another day breathed through and night endured.

We need to see that small success can often look like failure.
Steps forward get discounted when we feel the clink of ankle chains.
The time it takes to feel complete can nullify the time just spent
in bandaging
the hurts of many wounds.
Ours and others'.

Those hands that bring such comfort to our loved ones
would do well to bring some home.

Forgiveness starts when looking in a mirror.
Imperfection truly can be all embraced.
Delight can come in many forms both giving and receiving
when we learn to ease the pressures of
expectation and regret.

My sisters, know that being brings no failure.
We can wake today and shower it with grace.
We will take a step and feel the strength that comes
as each new moment swings us to the next one.
Then when we fall we stay or stand
believing that today is not all up to us.
And that is a relief.


Wild and wonderful are descriptions of an untamed heart
that glories in the knowledge that our maker truly knows what He is doing.
And He does it very well.

Do you know how wild and wonderful you are?