Life – Page 5

September 24, 2016September 2, 2017

Many Colored Patterns

There is always hope peace will come
if not encompassed in the living
most certainly not in the dying
but in increments of moving forward

Making changes interacting with others
knowing that even in differences
we are all connected in commonalities

That loving & laughing in twilight hours
should be brought into the light of day
broaching imagined fears & realizing
that others may have the same fears

That birdsong & music must be heard
over the sound of bullets piercing us
to hear the poets words stitched into lines

That the birth of all natures creatures
the wail of a newborn’s crying demands
is the crescendo beckoning to humanity
to see life as the ultimate gift

That life is not as simple as a color
& more complex than lifestyles lived
that defects & handicaps are beautiful

That the poets stitched lines a stanza
of many patterns woven into many colors
of all life with powerful voices to hear
there is always hope peace will come

Photo Taken From Morgue File & Digitized by Myself

many-colors

There has been yet another mall shooting here in Washington State killing lives that most hold dear. Please see others’ writing for 100TPC that is holding a virtual event today at https://intothebardo.wordpress.com/2016/09/23/100tpc-2016/

July 3, 2016

COUNTING LIFE IN TOMORROWS

No longer do I count life in years holding dreams
of newness of a younger love when each day
spilled over in the smell of scented flowers
when the air after the rain fell spoke
of clean, sweet beginnings and new meanings

I now count life in tomorrows obliged of sun
with nights counting blankets of stars
where they meet at dawn and part company
knowing there cannot be one without another

No, I no longer count life in years that promise
with the energy of youth who cannot wait for
hours nor even minutes as they peer at clocks
eager anticipation of the next moment
and the next and the next never knowing

That the time comes when tomorrows will become
as cocoons breaking open to free butterflies
the warmth of the sun as welcome as the rain
and the night a time of dreamt memories

Now I count life in every tomorrow promising
that there is another day in sun or rain
with nights in the company of radiant stars
with hope in becoming as butterflies
regaling in the nectar of scented flowers

Image Taken From The Morgue File & Digitized by Myself

Butterfly Nectar

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.

May 5, 2014May 5, 2014

Fragile Life Reminders

fragile life reminders
buried beneath
mountainous depths
mudslides
too close to home
& in other countries
that now feel close

reminders felt in flood waters
helpless lives
with nothing to grasp
taken by the current
nature’s release
that accumulated
from tiny raindrops

reminders felt in tornadoes
hurricane force winds
sweeping across land
far from any ocean
a corkscrew & no bottle
a swirling massive rage
filled with debris
nature’s play things

reminders as the mower
cuts through grass
a jungle habitat
of tiniest creatures
a green frog thumb size
scampering for safety
a hand captures him
release beneath shaded trees
fragile life reminders

Image Taken From Morgue File and Modified by Myself

There have been, recently, many natural disasters across the US. In my own State of Washington an unheard of mudslide claimed many lives on a sunny day. In the midwest news of tornadoes and in many other States floods from too much rain. I happened on a tiny frog in my yard and thought of all the lives lost in the blink of an eye and had my eye not caught his movement, he too would be gone. Life is fragile.

April 22, 2014

Life’s Promise*

leaves & petals
from spring flowers
lay limp
awash in a
rainwater puddle
amidst cigarette butts
on the railroad tracks

no longer admonished
or even praised
but part of
life’s discarded
no longer
part of life’s promise

Image In Part From Morgue File Digitized & Enhanced by Myself

March 11, 2014March 31, 2014

Crimson Red Tide*

dodging raindrops as though
they were standing still
her mind drifts
like the tide
to another time
another page
in the day
of whose life
she knows

the wind carries salt spray
on the warm breeze
& it settles on skin
browned by the sun
& she watches her there
as she stands
taking it in

the ocean teeming with life
watered down crimson red
the tide restricted
of swimming
but she wades just a bit
bare feet greeting
the sticky warmth of it

the smell of salty air
weighed down
by the life seemingly
contained
abounds as though
someone cast
a large net
meant to capture…
but not long after
it is gone

Image Courtesy of Kai Schumman
http://wwwcdph.ca.gov

January 26, 2014January 26, 2014

Always Tomorrow

the tops of pine trees
push their way
out of the fog
like the stuffing
come loose
from an old pillow

who are you, I ask?

the puppies fur
like fluffy cotton
after her bath
but coarser and dense
the static of cold air
pulling it upright

who are you, I ask?

the pre-spring earth
teaming with life
bring juncos, crows
starlings & chickadees
spilling across the yard
the excitement rising

there is always tomorrow

Image Taken From Morgue File
by jpkwitter

December 30, 2013December 30, 2013

Sunday’s Child Suspended

sunday’s child suspended
in balanced dreams
is the illusion of time
made of silk threads
strong as dovetailed beams

you see in re-claimed jars
through his eyes untold
tiger striped garden spiders
beauty of captured bees
lifes’ mystery doth unfold

sunday’s child suspended
a cocoon created of time
silk threads weaving a life
unique, tempered and bold
a blended pattern that shines

Image by Mary Corbet http://www.needlenthread.com

I have five adult children and many grandchildren but of my five, only one was born on a Sunday and my life’s love and challenge. They are all special in their own ways but Nathan is my Sunday child.

September 29, 2013September 29, 2013

I Considered Myself

Google Image

I consider myself to be
a peaceful person
living in a place
not fraught with war
void of detonating bombs
fragments of life gone

I consider myself but
to no avail
for the rumbling of war
has never been far
as off in the distance
on foreign soils
it creeps very close
to my own back door

I considered myself to be
living my life apart
even during Viet Nam years
seen on broadcast news
of death and others tears
of something I was
unable to touch

I considered myself & then
my son joined in the ranks
of men and women called
to fight in a war fueled
by the inner turmoil
of a people distant
and out of sight

I considered myself to be
untouched by the carnage
the destruction of
people unknown to me
whose lives were
never mentioned

I considered myself & then
you came home & you
seemed different
for you brought the
memories with you
that now touch my life
to forever affect it
with war

I have known many who became soldiers. My own father and his brothers fought in World War II, my brother was in service during Viet Nam but did not see battle. But when my own son went to the Middle East, even though he was fortunate enough not to have had to be in a battle, he saw enough of the aftermath, that it has affected his life in ways I will never be able to understand. For most soldiers do not speak of what they have seen and heard but these things, I know, cannot be erased from memory.

http://intothebardo.wordpress.com

August 30, 2013August 30, 2013

‘We Pick Our Battles’

Google Image

sleepless nights
were in the making
for you but
so were dreams lost
in a twist
of corded fate

fevers ran high
with slips of wet hair
plastered
to your face
against a damp pillow
caressing
even in the storm

i look at you now
‘challenging’
each day as a wall
of obstacles
to overcome
rock climbing easy
in comparison

a shine in your eyes
like jewels centered
in chocolate-brown orbs
‘we pick our battles’
you always say
so casual
in a way

it captures my heart
melts me
into a languid pool
i see you struggle
as night falls
a starless black
moonless sea

every day you continue
to show me how
teach me the way
to love me
into being alive

for how could i
not resist
the tilt
of your head
your nose
like no other &
laughter singing
in my ears

as does the sound
of how you call me
‘mama’ smiling
even now when
you have children
of your own

I have two very strong, determined daughters who give back to me every day they are here. My oldest continues to merit my admiration as she battles Lupus on her terms and will not let it dictate who she is.