09/12/19

Me thinks I've painted myself into a corner;
sooooo, where do I go from here?! I survey
my surroundings, look to see if by some
miracle there's any way out. Alas, there are
no hand holds, no windows and superman
doesn't seem to be coming any time soon.
I pray, I swear, I scream, I dream . . . but
nothing seems to work. How long can I keep
standing in my corner? I'm so tired, so worn
out and hope is fleeting. If only I could sleep
for a little while, but I'm fearful of letting go.
If I can just stay awake a little while longer,
maybe help will come.

awake or dreaming
must be that thing of nightmares
so afraid to sleep

09/11/19

Today is that day in our personal
histories, a day of such vast sorrow
from which we will never recover,
nor ever forget. Each of us can say
without hesitation, where we were
when the horror erupted, drowning
our very souls. The awe of that initial
moment left us open-mouthed,
speechless, paralyzed in disbelief.
Our minds simply could not assimilate
a reality in which the Dean Koontz and
Steven Kings of this world truly existed.
We cannot accept. We cannot believe.
We are forever changed. Pray history
does not repeat itself.

tis beyond belief
our horrors notwithstanding
the stuff of nightmares

09/10/19

Reminiscing through my own poetry of
yesteryear . . . I found myself inundated
with sorrow, no longer having the courage
to face life and longing for death with the
peace I believed it would offer me. Only
the vast love for my children kept me alive.
Today, I suffer immensely from SADS and
winter forces me to draw courage from the
depths of my being. Now, i bow in thanksgiving
that somehow I survived. The love I have for
my own is now coupled with a deep respect
for the people they have chosen to become.
I look at them, the battles they have faced,
sallied forth and conquered . . . and they
lead the way for my continued living, winter
or not . . . there are simply no words . . .
Bless you and bless you again!

how i love mine own
those children gifts from the gods
how do i give thanks
 - - -

Balada de Una Suicida

Caminé por mi desierto al amanecer

A paso velós y sonrisa alegre.

“Tengo sed, compañero,” le dije con afán.

“Dame del agua que traes ahí.”

“Esta agua,” me dijo a mí, “No es para dar.

No la sé servir y no la sé tomar.”

Y lentamente la derramó

A las arenas del desierto en frente de mí.

Caminé por mi desierto al medio día

A paso lento pero fas serena.

“Tienes vino tinto, dame a mí.”

Le dije ante alegre bohemio que encontré ahí.

“Bella Dama, puedes coger la botella,

Más ya la he compartido y mucho no le queda.

Al fin y al cabo me la has de devolver

Porque familia tengo y la he de mantener.”

Cogí la botella, saborié su olor

Acaricié su forma y deseé su sabor.

Más en hora buena recordé su deber

Y aún sedienta, se la devolví.

Caminé por mi desierto al atardecer

Con paso vacilante y mirada vacante.

“Tengo sed,” susuré al patriarca digno,

“Sálvame os ruego, que me desmayo, me muero!”

“Tengo champaña para tal noble reina.

Será de Vuestra Merced, os lo juro, lo juro!”

En copa de plata, incado con respeto,

Me sirvió la bebida, perlas de vida.

Temblorosa la bebí, restaurada, salva al fin.

Sabor sin par, colirio para mi alma,

Musité al instante, “Os amo, os adoro.”

Y dichosa de delirio, se me resbaló la botella.

Caminé por mi desierto a la media noche.

Desmayada por momentos, llorando mi pena.

“Mi árido desierto, fiel amigo mío,

Me entrego a tí, me muero sedienta!”

~Linda-Dale Jennings,

6 febrero 1986

09/09/19

so love me some of those early
morning gifts of the gods . . .
the sun leaking in my windows,
the first bird chirpings, the odd
flutter of a butterfly, the turning
over in bed for a snuggle . . .
and that wondrous promise of a
new day, new beginnings, new
opportunities, even new failings
 . . . and yes, the chance to begin
again on the morrow. I adore old.
If it's not at least 120 years old,
I'm not interested . . . but still,
those new early mornings are
indeed without par!

needing me some new
promise of another day
hope for we naughties

09/08/19

'Tis my last day on solitary (skip that
confinement part). I've enjoyed it . . .
had forgotten just how amazing solo
time could be. Add in the surprise
visited upon me by friends yesterday
afternoon and we're talking perfection.
And now, I'm longing to see my lover's
face. Sometime life can be absolutely
P E R F E C T !!!

life is a secret
so just waiting to happen
whisper in my ear

09/07/19

Living in the mountains in a 120 year old
cabin has its complexities and issues. Alas,
mice are perennial, but can be dealt with;
it just takes time. But this time, I have a
pesky chipmonk. I've been live-trapping
him for three days, to no avail. He saunters
in, helps himself to a nice supper and
slithers right on out through the wires. I'm
so angry with him, his chutzpah . . . I toss
treats to our surrounding animalia every
single day . . . but NO, that's not enough
for this guy . . . his sole mission in life is
to drive me even crazier than I already am.
I give up! I surrender!! I'm moving out!!!
Help!!!

yes loving nature
yes adoring mother earth
no not in my house

09/06/19

I've been gifted with a day on my own.
I find myself thinking, "What shall I do?"
I ponder the menu of plausible activities
and nigh onto drown in them. I want to
do them all . . . sans carriage . . . I find
I'm overwhelmed, can't think, decisions . . .
too much work. Me thinks I need therapy.
Want to come on over and sit under the
tree with me?

my own day to play
i simply cannot decide
pray send ideas

09/05/19

We've rested from our travels and
now it's time to sally forth and conquer.
Alas, there are bills to be paid, groceries
to be purchased, errands to be run . . .
and worst of all . . . a visit to the bank
(to find out if there are any funds left!)
Too much work and more than a tad scary.
Me thinks I'll just stay home and eat green
beans with apple jelly as that seems to be
the only things left in the larder!

never want to leave
do so love my hearth and home
not leaving ever

09/04/19

'Tis always amazing to me, no matter
how glorious the mini-vay, it's ever
lovely to come home. My own be,
smaller though it may be, the noise of
traffic going by . . . and crème de la

crème, we had a bear last night. What

a glorious mess with the whole trash

debacle. Still, I'm home and all's right

with the world! Y'all are welcome any

time . . . you bring the beer and I'll

bring the wine!

theres no place like home

in your sweet arms i shall rest
dorothy and me

09/03/19

I feel as if we've been in a sort of adult

time out. We've eaten when we've felt

like it, drank our adult beverages, told

tales out of school, stayed up late and

slept in, searched for those precious

stones to take home as mementos and

generally been living the perfect fairy

tale. There's part of me that never wants

to go back and yet another that is ready

to go home. Go figure! Bottom line, our

souls are sated, our heads ache from

misbehaving and we will carry these

precious memories with us for the rest

of our days. Bless our children for a

bestest mini-vay ever!!!

fun and games to share

adore our adult children

see them in new light

09/02/19

'Twas just the tiniest slice of deep,
deep yellow near the horizon. Truly,
I've never seen anything like it. Our
entire troop stood in wonder before
her magnificence. I have to smile. I've
been watching our lunar lady for nigh
onto seventy years and I find I am
still undone by her timeless beauty.
Alas, it wasn't long until she slipped
away to bring joy to other dreamers.
What is it about this magic orb that
so moves us?! The world over, we all
await her, watch her, wish upon her,
depend on her nightly beauty . . .
a true gift of the gods.

majesty most royal
lady luna hear my cry
pray guard my secrets

09/01/19

Back on the road again . . . Willy and me!
We've traveled into the flatlands . . . an
entirely different world from the mountains
we're used to. They have their own beauty;
whereas the mountains are majestic, the
flatlands have a mystery all their own. The
winds blow, awakening those eerie feelings
of shivers down the spine. We've already
collected and washed a bag of interesting
stones . . . not something I had anticipated
doing. Standing in one spot, slowly turning
and turning, flatlands, waving grasses and
blue, blue sky as far as the eye can see. I
feel ever so small and inconsequential. 'Tis
enlightening and thrilling all at the same
time. Today, as some of the clan ride, I
think I'll indulge in a tad of red and bask
in the wonder of it all.

tis timeless beauty
as far as the eye can see
tears steal down my cheeks

08/31/19

I was looking at those thin, left
over, blades of soap by the sink
this morning, wondering and
remembering. I like to use rather
expensive, hand-made soaps, and
being from the 50's, don't like to
throw them out. 'Twas then I had
a childhood vision, as it were. My
mom used to put them in the foot
of a nylon stocking, tie it up and cut
off the excess. Into the old Maytag
washer, they would go. When the
gyrations sufficed, she would lift out
the bag and begin the rinse process.
(I feel like bowing down and worshiping
my automatic washer and dryer, make
no mistake!) So, here's to those pesky
little pieces, those inescapable bits . . .

old bits and pieces
all washed down the drain again
pray gift me some new