Smile

September 12, 2020September 12, 2020

Faded Color & Brilliance

The horizon is a dismal gray
air polluted with the finest
of ashy particles
blown by the wind
many thousands of miles
from fires on the coast
announcing the arrival
of fire season

momentarily I make a note
as I sit in a friend’s garden
with paints & brushes
ready to create color

my eye is drawn to weathered
metal sculptures that eventually
might appear to fade
into such a sky as now

but when my canvas is complete
it will portray a creature
that can blend & disappear
if it chooses to engage
in such transformative
ventures

but within my brush strokes
I color him brilliant
erasing years of rust
& faded paint

he makes me smile inside & out
so I temporarily forget
the horizon before me
for the air will again clear
& I will move forward
once more

The Art Below Is My Own

November 27, 2017November 27, 2017

A Waterfall of Violets

Waterfall Violets

A rolling-pin gracing
the kitchen wall
visages of her life
speckles in the landscape
of my mind

a woman of small stature
with black hair
almond smiling eyes
a happiness laced laugh

I am embraced, a nephew’s wife
I left my shoes by the wall
inside the threshold

a home far from Kyoto
amidst the evergreen trees
I entered a coalesced union
both east and west

cultivated plants to bloom
black wrought iron shelves
a waterfall of African violets
blossoming shades of color

pink
violet
white
blue

feisty approach to business
offerings of octopus
dried salty seaweed

gastronomy not fathomed
teaching me her language
sharing plant knowledge
easier to impart

the rolling-pin still
flaunts her efforts
black char marks

remind me of a fusion
a friendship
between east and west

This is my fond memory of a woman from Japan named Nobu. I met her years ago when I was married to her nephew. She was married to an American serviceman she met in World War II. She lived here for many years until her husband’s passing and then returned to Japan where she eventually passed away. It was an honor to know here.

The above photo is taken from Public Domain Pictures and digitally altered by myself.

September 12, 2017

Nana’s Happy Place

This is for Rick Daddario’s 30 DOH/Days of Haiga. Read more at
https://19planets.wordpress.com/2017/09/10/haiga-2017-010-30doh-mississippi-flood-waters-circa-1940-50-minnesota. Photo below is my daughter’s.

Nana's Joy

August 28, 2017

Persuaded By A Smile

I never knew her name and remembrance
of her face has faded from memory
but her kindness still remains steadfast
within the warmth of my beating heart

where upon I still see the upright grand
dusty and in need of repair standing
proudly in the living room of a house
I only encroached drawn by its’ beauty

for she saw I was smitten by its’ presence
and invited me to play for even though
not a lesson had I the music seemed to
pass without pause to my finger tips

as I came to knock each day upon the door
to see the beauty of her smile and knew
that she no longer played but entreated
me to sit once more at the upright grand

This is in response to Jamie Dede’s Wednesday Prompt at https://jamiededes.com/2017/08/23/mrs-g-a-poem-and-your-wednesday-writing-prompt. Please visit her site and read more. The photo below was taken from Morgue File & digitally altered by myself.

Music Piano

August 14, 2017

Hummingbird Mishap

She had never seen such a tiny bird thus her first introduction to it was one of total surprise. A sunny day as always and she played outside as all that lived there from the roses, bushes and trees were enough to make her happy. If it were up to her she would spend all of her time there for even some insects caused the curiosity in her to grow except, of course, that of spiders. She learned to stay clear of them for she grew up learning that some were not welcome, such as the Black Widow, so therefore she felt it best to leave them be.

It would have been a day like any other, she playing and exploring but it was about to change and cause her wonder she had not known there was. Her father was busy doing what fathers did in a garage and she paid him no mind, really. He, at one point, set the sprinkler to watering the grass and she watched as he did so.

She would remember it always. One minute things were as they always had been of a sun warmed day and the next the fastest creature with wings lay upside down on the concrete patio. She marveled at it and asked what it was. Her father turned and looked down with a smile, walked over and gave the little bird a nudge with his finger. It suddenly flipped itself over and was off faster than a blink of an eye.

Heart beating excitement
a wonder of flight
seeking flower nectar

“It’s a Hummingbird”, he said. “You don’t often see them because they are so fast.” I stood speechless and marveled it had been so close.

The art piece below is one I finished to go with this story. I used acrylics, watercolor and something to increase the life of the acrylics so they wouldn’t dry quite as fast while I worked. It is done on canvas. Lately I am feeling rather like a chemist with my paints but enjoying the process.

Marvel of Flight

July 17, 2017July 17, 2017

A Siren Wailing For No Reason

The sun had risen high in the blue sky
over rolling hills of farm country
causing a dry heat much as the roiling
heat of the home of her childhood
produced in waves upon asphalt streets

she knew the howl of a siren near by in
the close distance as she sat visiting
with her son her terrier mix at her feet
and he saw her puzzled look asking why
to glean the meaning of that sound now

for she recalled a time years past
in the elementary school days now gone
the drills that came, of getting down
upon the floor to hide beneath her desk
with her hands upon her head to wait

but as the memory flashed upon her face
her son smiled to say the neighbor
who lives not far likes to hear the siren
wailing as it does for not a reason
but he hears it every afternoon of a day

so she smiles with him to recall those
drills of her youth and hoping as she did
that her desk might shield her from harm
for it might come with her eyes shut tight
the all clear was given & she breathed a sigh

This post is is response to Jamie Dede’s Wednesday Prompt. You can see more of other poet’s responses at https://jamiededes.com/2017/07/12/at-the-dead-of-noon-a-poem-and-your-wednesday-writing-prompt. I visited my son recently in the town of Ritzville which has a very small populace, a very large granary and railroad tracks running through town carrying all manner of things from lumber to oil to grain and much more. But the one thing that made me take note was the siren which someone sets to wailing every day. Brings back memories and for some of you it may spark your own and for others perhaps not but I hope you enjoy the read. The photo is of my son’s house which I have digitally altered for this post.

A Sound of Siren

August 18, 2014

Bring Me Wildflowers

bring me wildflowers
& set them
on the sideboard
by the window
to catch
the suns’ rays

for the petals
that dapple all
of the surfaces
like tiny pixies
set to play

bring me laughter
to eclipse the day
as the moon does
to the surfaces
of the sun

a smile to soften
the harsh edges
of all anger
a candle with which
to light the dawn

Image Taken From Morgue File
Digitized by Myself

June 18, 2014June 18, 2014

Dissolving Pearls

adrift on the tide of time
ebbing and receding quickly now
dissolving pearls seen
as minutes of time
becoming particles of sand
an hourglass known
to be tailored to each one

recognition briefly still here
the brightness of a smile
a twinkle in the eye
checking memories each one
to know they do remain

a lucky penny catches the eye
it is quickly snatched up
deposited in a pocket
a mockingbird song entertains
sun up to sun down
each note a suggestion…
of something

the sadness finally dissipated
as a rain now a fine mist
settling but only briefly
the sun always bringing
a warmth to the soul
a new day beginning

looking around for the familiar
knowing it is there
just beneath a hazy morning
burning off in the heat of day
where all is now clear
the years only an illusion
and youth just beginning

Visiting dad always has the variable of “what if” involved. Now at 90 plus years of age and due to mild to moderate dementia, dad has good days and not so good, and through it all he still perseveres and manages to get through every day no matter what.

Image Taken From Morgue File