Page 25

June 13, 2016June 14, 2016

DO YOU HEAR THE ANGELS CRYING

Even if a million tomorrows come and go
as sun shining brightly we still will know
of the anger fueled by hatred replacing
blood running in some men’s veins
do you hear the angels crying
do you really, do you know

When the sun rises in the morning sky
scorching dry the blood left running
that seeped into the nightclub floor
into the walls and into the doors
will you hear the angels crying
do you really, do you know

There doesn’t have to be more killing
chilling headlines repeated in the news
of children dead in classrooms who
could have lived to change some views
do you hear the angels crying
do you really, do you know

Each time a trigger is pulled on a gun
mothers & fathers cry out their anguish
as do others left alone to languish
brothers, sisters, sons and daughters
will you hear the angels crying
do you really , do you know

Whether it is in a darkly lit theater
or on a dimly lit nightclub dance floor
college campus or elementary school room
they all breathed last where we found them
do you hear the angels crying
do you really, do you know

Image is Taken From Morgue File & Digitized by Myself

Crying Angel

How many people have to die in senseless wars, in mass killings before the human race decides to quell their fears founded in ignorance and make decisions based on being informed. There are those factions around the world who encourage fear and that fear is the fuel for hatred of things not understood. Each person should have the freedom to whatever religion they choose be it different from another. Each person, no matter the lifestyle lived or disability they may have, should be able to live without fear of those others whose fear comes from the hatred that has been fueled by some few, who themselves, fear what they do not understand.

I have many Gay friends who have enriched my life with their presence in it. This post is for them and for those in Florida who suffered the loss of sons, brothers, husbands or friends. They were all loved and cared about and will be missed as will all that were enjoying their company and also lost their lives, a mother, a sister, friends.

Let me clarify that this is not only about one group of people in our society, in societies around the world. This is about all people in all walks of life. I am a mother, grandmother and great-grandmother, have had the opportunity in the past (some might never have) of attending college. My own children and their children have all attended public schools and some college. We all enjoy going to places in the public sector where people gather. Any of these people, both children and adults, could have been mine or yours.

This is also not about religious beliefs for the people of Islam do not believe nor condone violence. This is about one man’s anger and dislike for others and his fear of something he did not understand. It is unfortunate that the law still allows individuals to purchase automatic weapons, which are weapons of war, and until a law is passed that makes them illegal to obtain more of these situations will occur. Of course, there will always be those who will come by them illegally but at least it would make it more difficult for any one individual to act upon his/her anger.

I am a writer and have not been one to jump on any platform but this incident touched me to the core of my being as a human being. If nothing else, I have felt compelled to write something, which I hope will be of value to some.

June 9, 2016June 9, 2016

THE COVER OF DARKNESS

The house quiet at night
revealing no sound but
her children breathing
softly amidst creaking
noises of a house at rest

She sleeps lightly & listens
seeking things out-of-place
her eyes open to seek in
darkness familiar images

A glimpse is caught barely
from the corner of her eye
a small child, a girl moving
slowly down the hallway
softly making no sound

She rises to follow her
knowing it must be her own
but searches in vain only
finding no child there

Hurrying back toward the
bedrooms she checks each bed
her children covered and still
every night she looks always
to find where she has gone

The day brings questions
she cannot keep away
nor does her face keep
hidden what night shows her

Her friend lives next door
did she not ask her of a child
who simply leaves no trace
her rather calm reply
so you have seen her too

I normally do not do prompts but found one of interest to me at Jamie Dede’s site https://musingbymoonlight.com/ some know by THE POET BY DAY. This is the Wednesday Writing Prompt. Some people believe in ghosts and others not so much. Have you seen someone seemingly not there or know of someone who has?

Image Taken From Morgue File & Digitized by Myself

Darkness

May 27, 2016May 28, 2016

BECOMING INVISIBLE

The edge of our reality can end
where our vision sees no longer
the man or woman growing older
becoming invisible as though
swallowed up in the mist
a dense fog masquerading
as a wall forthwith the
door is closed

They are forgotten are they not
beyond the noise and bustle
of the cities they once
inhabited, sustained to
hold strong protecting
those young and growing
until the tie then
is thus broken

Then they are contained inside
four walls of the homes
we have banished them to
as they wait in lonely rooms
long hallways where signs
saying exit are never
meant for them
but only for us

Their tears of despair turning
to fear and anger toward those
who leave them there to
languish with strangers
who do not know them
who only change bed sheets
give medication unknown
then turn to go

They will find no solace here
amidst disinfectant where
even germs are not wanted
they cannot find the warmth
of their own bed, the safety
of familiar things
for the edge of their reality
diminishes in the sea of ours

Image Taken & Digitized by Myself

Invisible

My father went missing some three to four years ago now but we were fortunate. My sister who lives with him did not wait long and sent someone to look for him, even though the police did not consider him missing. The allotted time was not up. Now we have the newest thing, the ‘Silver Alert’, to look for the elderly amongst us who turn up missing every day.

Recently, my uncle and my father’s brother, also went missing. His family did not look but waited until a ‘Silver Alert’ was in place. After four days they found him in a church parking lot in his truck waiting for help. At 94 years of age, he was known to be in good health. But his adult children are too busy with their lives to consider him and knew nothing of their father’s well being nor did they keep in touch often enough to know if he was alright. He is now in the hospital, a shadow of his former self, prior to having gone missing. His children have finally come but we believe, to only say their good-byes.

In our Western society, convalescent homes have become the norm, a place in which to put our growing older population because there is no longer time for them. In certain circumstances this might be an option but in so many cases, families simply do not know what to do with their elders when they become frail, in poor health or have various stages of memory loss.

My uncle could have more time even beyond his 94yrs but his adult children have been raised in a society to not see beyond the option of a place where someone else will care for them. My sister has difficulty understanding it but in reality it is yet, another system in our society, that is flawed and that leaves us still with more questions than answers. I feel compelled to write this for him, Hector Dickens, who now no longer has a voice in his life.

Ironic, one might say, how the words beckon us to convey a message and how life comes full circle in the saying of them. My uncle passed away this morning, perhaps even as I wrote the above words. He will be missed.

May 17, 2016May 17, 2016

TIME BETWEEN SPACES

How do you capture the time
between spaces
to hold the minutes
in your hands

when your hands
are the sieves
that leave no traces
& the minutes
are grains of sand

Image Taken From Morgue File & Digitized by Myself

CAPTURING TIME

April 22, 2016April 22, 2016

ILLUSIVE WORDS

The words follow me like the words
from the lyrics of a Pied Piper song
amused that I can’t seem to pull
them from their hiding place long
in a Pandora’s poetry box of rhyme

They dance through my mind as notes
as the music keeps playing again
and again always laughing at my effort
to trap them still pearls of wisdom
formed by the ocean’s sand a vision

Perhaps if I remain very still
like a mime I always portray to be
the Pied Piper will stop playing
whilst the pearls break free of the sand
my words a wordsmiths’ render I will see

Image Taken From Morgue File & Digitized by Myself

Illusive Words

April 17, 2016April 17, 2016

THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING

I wanted to post something so very touching to me that it surpasses all the cards not received in the mail, all the frustration that life gives and all the doubt that I tend to hold onto, with the nagging question…”am I loved, am I cared about”. For, although, I have been told those things hundreds of times over the years I am like so many people in this world. I need reminded that it is true and that there are those who hold me in regard. My daughter sent this text to me when I was having one of those days filled with questions. It has been a long recovery from open heart surgery and for one who did not have to frequent doctor’s offices, it has been difficult at times. I recently spent three days in the hospital due to an upper GI bleed. The new heart valve that has given me life requires blood thinners in order for it to keep doing so so it is a tenuous balance. She has reminded me once again that I have made a difference no matter the questions I have.

Your art and words are you. And you in return me. You gave me the wonderful gift of artful words. Without you I would only have my father’s numbers and angles. You have made me complete. And as you love all the positive nature that is within me…you must know that it is within you. Because I am also you.

Sweet dreams mama.

Image Taken From Morgue & Digitized by Myself

Mother’s day is coming soon but with such beautifully painted words as these I don’t have to wait for I have the knowing that I am in my daughter’s heart every day. I hope all mothers know, like I do, that it is not just once a year that you are loved and cared for. I gave my daughter life but she continues to nourish my life every day.

March 6, 2016March 6, 2016

THE WORDSMITH & THE MUSE

The black curtain of night
draws closed at the end of day
like a chemist at work
the Wordsmith dreams

her Muse sits watching
waiting for a slurry of words
to nudge her with urgency

so inspiration will come
she can give to the Wordsmith
who is trying to capture
the letters transparent

as they appear like woven
silken vibrant threads from
the illusive silk worm
threads strong, unbreakable

like obstinate children
rebellious…belligerent
not wanting to form words

they remain recalcitrant
in their need to remain
separate from one another
letters after all

the Wordsmith dreams
her Muse still waiting
for the letters to
coalesce into words

Image Taken From Morgue File & Digitized by Myself

color bubbles

February 20, 2016

SUBTLE KISS OF COLOR

Visages of the sunset
diffused into the light
sun rays to be missed
a subtle kiss of color
of pink & purple hues

Days run on together
seamless as life joined
stitched close together
soft as feathered thread
black as that of night

Dawn rises out of mourning
thread broken by the sun
bird song calls attention
to mention winged flight
pursuant of a new day

Image Taken From Morgue File and Digitized by Myself

February 8, 2016February 8, 2016

WATCHFUL HEART

Blue skies & concrete planters
with trees & a watchful heart
that reaches out to touch me
to bring me close to its’ warmth

Loving hands with healing that
reach beyond skyscrapers
& miles of city life to hold me
in the embrace of their passion

Nesting birds asking for handouts
with chattering unable to overcome
the voice that calls to me from
a moment in which to hold me safe

People coming and going to ride
the moving stairs always in motion
& anyone of them could be
that one who waits for me always

Lost feathers from tiny birds remind
me of life changes that flutter in
the breeze, of changes bringing two
hearts together in a journey to embrace

I was cleaning out yet another box of things to be either discarded or kept and came across this very old piece of prose. I wrote this to my partner of nearly 19 years now. It helps me to remember why we remain together through her struggle with cancer, now in remission, and my ultimate emergent open heart surgery to replace my heart valve. This was written long before my first real computer or the ability to access the internet to create this blog. I am still recovering and going through many life changes and hope to be more active on this site and to visit others in the near future.