Like a Moth to a Flame

2011-10-20T02:31:00.002-05:00

Shed The Shame by Don Rudnickas...

2011-07-11T10:54:00.002-05:00

Love this song... Haven't we all been strangers somewhere taking some comfort that our past is an empty slate and with those you meet you are free to be who you are now, not what you may have been or what those in your past expect you to be. Shed the Shame....

Masha from Anton Chekhov's The Three Sisters.

2011-07-06T13:35:00.000-05:00

Masha was one of my favorites roles to play and this is my favorite line Masha has in the play. I love it for a very simple reason.

It is truth.

It seems to me that a man must have faith, or must search for a faith, or his life will be empty, empty.... To live and not to know why the cranes fly, why babies are born, why there are stars in the sky.... Either you must know why you live, or everything is trivial, not worth a straw.

Joe Cocker - Unchain My Heart

2011-07-01T09:29:00.000-05:00

Wishes

2011-06-30T12:04:00.000-05:00

running through a field of wishes...
I haven't stopped wishing...
I have just realized them for what they are...
Little journies within my mind where things are how I 'wish' them to be.

Dancing within the light....

2011-06-28T13:39:00.000-05:00

Dancing within the light....

When I feel
the shadows
I remember
what it was like to dance within the light.

I remember that
there can be no shadow
if there were no light.

There was light...
and I danced within it...

res (c)

In The Shadows

2010-11-22T09:32:00.000-06:00

I am resting in the shadows of life
I can see the light from here
But it can not blind me
With its hope
I can feel the warmth from here
But it can not burn me
with its passion
I can cry here
No one hears
res (c) 2009

Life renews

2010-05-13T13:18:00.004-05:00

Peonies in back yard are starting to open... as hearts that are closed eventually with warmth and care will do as well. eventually.

Suicide and Silence

2010-03-29T18:08:00.004-05:00

stiletto heels strike an assured cadence.

stairway spiraling skyward....

a sigh...

a last single step...

Screams spinning a downward symphony ...

slash stillness.

sirens...

silence....

sweet serene silence

res ©

Outward Bound

2010-03-17T20:33:00.002-05:00

Changes demand
They Command
I have no choice
Left with no voice
no say so
no where to go

Five of Ten

2010-03-13T19:05:00.002-06:00

This is the first five of the Ten of us. Meaning I am one of ten kids... lots of sibs!

From Left to right back row. My older sister Georgette who passed away from Breast Cancer last year. Me with the bangs and My big Brother Mike. In the front row are two of my younger sisters Michelle and Suzanne whom even when they turn 80 we will still call "The Girls".

Memory Lane

2010-03-13T18:55:00.002-06:00

Lately I have been connecting with my family and friends not that we don't stay in touch or connected, we do but on Facebook there is a sense of fun and community on a different level.

I had tried it a year or so ago but it didn't really seem like my kind of thing. And then all of my siblings and my TeTante (Aunt to those of you not from Louisiana) and Uncle and cousins and friends were all going on about how much fun they were having with each other. So I crept back over.

I have been having such a blast because they are all posting old pictures some going back to the late 1800's of family and friends and the running commentary on some of the pictures has been hilarious, poignant, bittersweet, heartbreaking, thought provoking and also causes introspection.

The pictures just brought back such good memories of times when life wasn't such a struggle. You know... Youth...

So I thought why not put some of them up here just for fun so that my friends that stop by here can have a chuckle or two or share a memory with me.

I suppose I am also trying to reconnect with ME as well. Trying to find that girl, young woman and woman that managed to manage so well at life.

This is from my Mothers 50th Birthday party. She passed away two years later but we had a blast at her party.

Time is Up

2010-03-10T22:23:00.006-06:00

Another stall another delay
The clock stopped ticking

No more flights of fancy

Whispers.

2010-03-08T17:55:00.003-06:00

It was just another whisper in the dark
I stopped again to hear the words
And finally heard the lie
I turned around to look behind.

And discovered the past for what it was
I heard the tumble of words upon words
whispered in the dark
Words which were always lies
Heard again promise after promise
never meant to be kept

Alone each could find a way to be denied
Each could slip into disguise
shrouding the truth
behind the dark whispered lie.

I saw what they had built
Together layered one upon the other
like twisted vines choking and strangling
they became loves funeral pyre.

Whispered softly - that one last lie
Striking me like a flint
Creating a spark that bloomed
and became the fire.

Flickers of flame danced like faires freed
Swirling - leaping skyward
each one whispering "now you see"

Leaving at the end - only ashes
Blown away by the whisper of truth
I turned around and walked away
Whispering softly with a smile

Never let the lie beguile...
res2009 ©

First posted March 14 2009

The Clock is ticking...

2010-03-04T05:49:00.002-06:00

As the time winds down
the truth will out
nothing so simple
as a little pout.

The clock it ticking
Your time is running out.

Waiting for

2010-03-02T20:57:00.003-06:00

The Truth
which was never there
before
Waiting for
an even score.

Playing field cleared
debris removed
words tinged with deceit
ashes of trust at my feet
swimming
in a pool of tears

revenge isn't sweet

Tears of a frozen heart...

2010-03-01T21:12:00.001-06:00

Manhattan at Last

2009-11-07T08:47:00.006-06:00

photograph by Jay Winer

Well, it wasn't the move I expected - What ever truly turns out as you expect? Oh I suppose some things are exactly what you expect. But expectations now that is another thing. Anyway...

Out of Connecticut - into Manhattan and always keeping an open mind for the next adventure. Or maybe just the next cup of coffee.

How do you see yourself?

2009-10-18T17:11:00.006-05:00

Not long ago I ran across this old picture of me and realized that this is how I see myself in my minds eye. It is always a bit of surprise to realize how little I look like that in reality. A friend, Don Rudnickas wrote a song that captures it perfectly. My Minds Eye

Over to the right is a little button that you can click and hear it.

So while still groping my way into the future with no light to guide the way this song seems a good signpost to keep me grounded.

I loved that hat....

2009-08-17T22:25:00.002-05:00

I think this was about 1988... Great Vintage Gucci hat. You have to love the drama of it...

But then a few years later here I am... Not so glamorous... Life is funny.

Beautiful Day

2009-04-25T15:19:00.004-05:00

Beautiful day…
We wait and wait
Morning comes and you can taste the day
Your skin tells you
You feel the warmth
Your first breath tells you
You inhale the scents carried in through the window
Blossoms are drawn out and come alive when warmed by the sun.
The sounds of birds singing joy.
But…
What about my heart?
Locked in the winter of loneliness…
I need the soft breath that whispers good morning against my cheek
My skin needs the touch of warmth from his hand to come alive
The only scent… my own mingled with the dead flowers I bought for myself.
Within is only the sound of a single beating heart in the silence of my empty room
Outside is a beautiful day…
Inside my heart is cold with lonliness
large with so much to share
And no one cares if I care.
No one cares to share.

And I am sick and tired of it all.
Wasted time on foolish thoughts.
Wasted thoughts....
I am out of time...
I am out of the mood.
I am out the door...

It is a beautiful day.

I've cried enough

2009-04-04T18:28:00.001-05:00

I've cried enough
Originally uploaded by HaMeD!caL

kalidescope

Swirling, twisting, turning.
The meteor shower of my soul.
Glints of color,
Sparks of light
Twisting, shimmering
Always changing

Gems of truth
Bound in rings of gold
Words unspoken
Thoughts untold
Love deflected

A twist and images fly
Shaping again spinning back
The past cold frigid light
Shifting reflections of the past
Forming dark lies and trust stolen
Pain frozen
Gears broken

Turning motion seeing now
Showing shimmering souls
Already sold
Wanting to hold

Staring forward
Focus on the future blurred.
Glimmering shards of dreams
Waiting to fall into place.
All reflected in a single tear.

Touch

2009-03-08T11:50:00.001-05:00

Touch
Originally uploaded by JohnyBlaze

Being Me.

2009-02-25T07:13:00.005-06:00

image by Katarina Sokolova www.katarinasokolova.com

I thought that once you had gone I would feel so alone....

I thought being alone would be the razors edge of loneliness.

But now that you have gone I realize....

I was lonelier with you - because you were never really there.

I realize now that you were taking away parts of me.

Now

I have the me back that was lost trying to be a we.

I realize I am alone and I may be lonely but...

I don't feel empty just being me

Not like I did when

I tried being a we with you.

It is better to be me

complete and free.

to love again...

walking away

2008-04-29T12:55:00.001-05:00

walking away
Originally uploaded by Dorotski

why not... when you aren't getting anywhere you might as well turn and walk away.

heritage - George Soulie

2008-04-28T03:53:00.006-05:00

This was taken from a History of New Orleans but I can't find the original source at the moment. Will update when I track it down again. My Great Grandfather and Grandfather are the artists/float builders they mention. George and Henry Soulie

The artist's rough sketches of the proposed pageant are submitted to the select committee, and when finally approved thereby, are referred back to him to be put in final shape. This consists in carefully redrawing the designs, one by one, according to scale, each car on its own separate sheet of paper, not over •two feet square. They are represented in full color, with the maskers in place. In this form they go to the builders. The poetry, the sentiment of the pageants, of course, represent the artist's contribution, but the translation of his designs into papier-mache, canvas, tinsel and paint — which are the essential ingredients of a carnival tableauº — this is the task of the builders.

For many years a wiry Frenchman, George Soulié, called the Rex pageant into being. Latterly, he had the assistance of his son, Henry. They constitute a dynasty of Carnival craftsmen whose time was practically spent exclusively in the service of the societies. Rex has large studios in an out‑of-the‑way corner of the city, especially designed for his use, and there his cars are built. The organization owns its own vehicles — platforms •some twenty feet long and eight feet wide, mounted on wheels — resembling the trucks on which theatrical scenery is moved. They are used repeatedly, but the fairy structures which are every year reared upon them are always and entirely new.

The artist's design is, of course, flat, and indicates variations in the surface only by means of shading — of lights and darks, after the manner of all painting. The business of the builders is to erect a framework which, when overlaid with the canvas, will actually represent those variations in the plane; hence they are allowed an immense latitude, and the demand upon their ingenuity is enormous. Let us take an example; for instance, a car representing some marine scene. The design as it reaches the workmen represents the waves just as they would be represented in any other water color drawing. The surface of the water arises in a series of huge billows, but these billows are seamed with countless lesser waves, ripples, undulations. In the drawing they are mere splashes of color, vivid green, gray, brown, even black — but there is nothing to tell the builder how these effects are to be attained.

And yet the clever craftsman asks no more. In his atelier there is a large open floor. Upon this he spreads sheets of stout manila paper, pasting them together until he has a surface measuring •20 or 22 feet long by 18 wide. Then, with a brush dipped in red paint, he traces upon the paper the forms of various bits of timber which, put together, will constitute the vitals of the tableaux. These lines cross each other at all angles, but each is numbered, and can easily be followed in the maze of conflicting designs. Then the carpenters come in and, working from the pattern, prepare all these separate pieces of timber, fitting them on the tracings till they are exact duplications of the master's design. At this stage not even the carpenters can guess the eventual appearance of the car.

The next stage is to assemble the framework on the wagon. Under the supervision of the master builder each part is fitted into place. In the meantime papier-mache workers have done their part. Their productions are quickly tacked into place. Stout canvas follows, together with prodigious amounts of excelsior, rags and various other kinds of "stuffing" to round out the proportions of sea serpent or sinuous marine p725plant. And as the canvas is fastened to the timber framework, suddenly the beholder perceives how all the innumerable billowlets which the artist in his drawing represented by hasty strokes of the brush have become actual undulations, reproducing exactly the infinite variety of the surface of the sea.

To create a car under such circumstances calls for peculiar talent and immense experience. It is because New Orleans possesses a school of Carnival craftsmen, and because they are content to devote their lives to the fabrication of Carnival pageant, that the Crescent City is unique in the success and splendor of its pageants. The thing has been tried elsewhere, and always with comparatively small success; for, easy as it may seem to the uninstructed to rear the fairy fabric of a typical Carnival "float," the task assumes quite another phase when it is actually attempted. There is a genius which goes to this as to almost every other kind of artistic endeavor; New Orleans has that genius, and it is not found anywhere else.

One More Time....

2008-01-09T10:54:00.005-06:00

My dad... before I was born... The song you are hearing if you have your click play is by my friend Don Rudnickas. It is a testimonial of love and respect for his father.

For all of us that have lost our fathers I think that the memories this beautiful song evokes actually does give us one more and many more times shared with them as we listen.

findings...

2008-01-04T19:02:00.000-06:00

Do you ever start a search for some odd something or other and get so absorbed in the other things you have discovered in that old box that you quite forget what it was you were looking for in the first place.

I found this while looking for something else. 1993, the Opening of the first film I worked on. Mr. Write. My 'date' you may recognize from David Letterman shows from the 80's & 90's. Calvert DeForest aka Larry Bud Melman. He has a quirky little part in the movie.

Happy New Year & Here is to Second Chances!

2008-01-01T13:38:00.002-06:00

One of the wonderful aspects of celebrating a New Year is the sense of getting a Second Chance... Everything is fresh and new again and we have a sense of being freed from the negative and look to the positive. I wish you all many days filled with laughter and joy and the opportunity to start anew things left undone and the spirit to try again.

Blonde Logic

2007-10-03T00:21:00.002-05:00

Last year I replaced all the windows in my house with those expensive, double-pane energy-efficient kind.

Yesterday, I got a call from the Contractor who installed them. He was complaining that the windows had been installed a whole year ago and I had not paid for them yet.

Hellloooo? Now just because I'm blonde doesn't mean that I am automatically stupid. So I told him just exactly what his fast-talking sales guy had told ME last year... namely, that in just ONE YEAR these windows would pay for themselves!

"Helllooooo!"------"It's been a year"!

There was only silence at the other end of the line, so I finally just hung up.... He hasn't called back, probably too embarrassed about forgetting the guarantee they made me.

Bet he won't underestimate a blonde anymore!

Suzanne and Georgette

2007-09-19T12:35:00.000-05:00

Two of my sisters... one younger one older...

Laissez Le Bon Ton Roulet - Faded Time

2007-09-19T10:05:00.001-05:00

(repost)

Yesterday I went to the French Quarter Fest and I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to listen to music. I don't typically listen to Zydeco, arguably the music of Louisiana. One would think it would be something I was drawn to on a visceral level at least. My mother's family names are all Boudreaux's and Gautreaux's and Dideareaux and who knows what else that ends in eaux.

I can remember visits to my maternal grandmother's and great-grandmother's where the adults would gather after the evening rosary to play boure (I have no idea how to spell bourée; I don't think I have ever seen it written). Once released from the torture of kneeling in a circle on the kitchen floor saying the rosary to the radio we kids would pass our rosaries over to the nearest adult and high tail it for the backyard to play some version of chase through the fig orchards. The men would drink beer and the women home made cherry bounce and together as a family they made fun on a hot summer night.

As the evening progressed our dashes in and out of the kitchen always had a very distinct sound that I can hear even now. It is the combination of French being spoken in rapid fire tempo against music warbling forth from a scratchy 78 album blended with that of the occasional swat at a mosquito and infused with laughter, great deals of laughter, which all together created its own music.

What they listened to on the record player or radio or played themselves when one of the Oncle's would bring a fiddle and another an accordion or any other combination of instruments didn't seem to have a name, or at least they didn't name it. Someone would shout, "Oncle Celeste! Jouez-nous de la musique!" Just that, not play some Zydeco or Cajun Music it was just music. It is interesting that they didn't have a name for it when you think about our how humans seem to have a need to name a thing. Or perhaps they did and said it in French which we tuned out because we weren't supposed to understand what they were talking about when they slipped into French.

What I loved was the sound of Family, not so much the music itself. It isn't that I don't like it now, I can enjoy it but it isn't the same. I suppose for me it is a family sound that is best enjoyed on a hot summer night with fans whirring overhead and the sounds and smells of my grand grand-mere's kitchen and when I hear it elsewhere I feel lonely for the sounds I won't ever hear again.

Those simple days are gone. I don't ever see all the Tante's and Oncle's anymore. My grand-mere is gone as is my grand grand-mere and my mother too and the links to that side of the family grow weaker with each passing year. None of us live in houses with big screened in back porches and even bigger kitchens where 20 people could sit around a table and drink cherry bounce and play cards on a hot summer evening and create the magic of childhood for all of us kids. And none of us are kids anymore. I miss it and the music that was my childhood. And that is what I remembered last night when I went to bed with the sounds of Zydeco still whispering in my mind. I remembered I wasn't a kid anymore.

p.s.
After writing the above by sheer fluke of fate two of my cousins walked into the same bar/resturant I was in. Since then the family has all gotten together again. The adults, of whom now I was one, sat around talking into the evening. Laughter was everywhere and the kids ran in and out, music played in the background... and I wondered if we were making the music of childhood for the little ones.

Theater Days - Lion In Winter

2007-09-18T12:04:00.000-05:00

This is from when I was doing theatre in New York....
The Play - Lion in Winter by James Goldman
One amusing aspect - My Henry II was 6'5", I am 5'1.5". For this cast picture I had to stand on a box so that we would be on a somewhat even plane for the promotional cast Photographs.

Old and New

2007-09-16T18:30:00.000-05:00

Well, my birthday was a couple of weeks ago...
So... trying to think of this as a New Year
renewal of spirit - find the cheer!

Happy New Year Wren

New Home....

2007-09-07T10:46:00.001-05:00

I have made my way to my new home... for now... But since I am still in Louisiana I can still be a Southern Magnolia... Hmmmm.... well perhaps a Steel Magnolia... but in a nice soft glowing way... hmmm... Well oh botheration... Here I am back again...

If you have your speakers on, I hope you enjoy the song 'My Way Home' that should be playing. You can click on the link above to hear it and more of Don's songs. If you listen to it you will know why I selected it for my little blog here. It will be obvious, or should be or might be.... but you have to listen to it to hear it.

I sound like I have had one cup of coffee too many.... that may well be so... but...

So what?

If you can't feel my smile, I can assure you I am smiling now that all the moving is over. Chaos follows but in a good way.

2007-08-25T13:16:00.000-05:00

Saturday is just for play

Soon I will be packing my bags

and be on my way.

No good reason to stay

no regrets as I make my way

Just fun and sun

lawn party and Croquet

Full skirts and petticoats

wide brimmed hats and just plain folks

One more week until tomorrow

leaving here with out a wit of sorrow

Hello world can you come out to play today?

Update...

2007-08-25T13:13:00.000-05:00

Dear ones,

Some big changes. I will be leaving New Orleans next weekend. I am not sad about this in the least. I have never seemed to be able to thrive since Katrina... each step forward brought me three steps backwards. Every time I took a path I thought would lead to a better situation I ran into brick walls. I was losing me, the me that savors the flavor of life.

So, I am packing my stuff, putting it all in storage and going to go live with my brother for a while in Northern, LA. I am looking forward to a new fresh beginning and the time it will give me to choose a path into the future.

I feel great about it all.

Wren

2007-08-23T11:58:00.000-05:00

within her slumber

her world was as she wished it to be...

If she reached out

her hand was held

if she yearned for his touch

his breath caressed her cheek

within her slumber

he was there

why wake to discover

he did not care?

slumber on...

Saturday

2007-08-18T09:55:00.000-05:00

Off to the beach again

no idea what is around the bend

I can't read your mind

Off to the beach again

to find new dreams

live with out schemes

Off to the beach again

I can almost remember

other times I lied to myself

believing in a we....

Off to the beach again

no we to be a part of me

Just me myself and I...

no longer believing the lie

until the next time I try

See... No Rain!!!

2007-08-11T09:27:00.001-05:00

Friday....

2007-08-10T12:24:00.001-05:00

I have persuaded myself that I will not let anything rain on my parade for the next few days...

Hello World!

2007-08-08T13:53:00.000-05:00

Whatcha' got in store for me today?

Oh... not another monday

2007-08-06T09:24:00.000-05:00

at exactly 8:26 I knew the phone would ring. It does every morning at that exact time. I don't need an alarm clock any more.

The bill collectors provide that service for free.. and again at this very moment... Oh god... not another Monday...

Four Leaf Clover

2007-07-31T22:09:00.001-05:00

Perhaps we could all use a little luck...

transitions..

2007-07-26T15:11:00.000-05:00

What we are today

is but a dim reflection

of what we were

and a faint glimmer

of what we will be

To and Fro... now where to go.

2007-07-25T13:10:00.000-05:00

People coming to and fro

leaving here going there

people knowing

people showing

fear

What more can I say?

2007-07-25T11:23:00.001-05:00

Monday again?

2007-07-23T21:21:00.001-05:00

It's Saturday!

2007-07-21T07:29:00.000-05:00

Hope and Need

Hope is a four letter word

Need is a Curse

Yet I am hopelessly cursed

with the Need to hope.

It is not always easy to get from here to there, but you cannot get there without trying.

2007-07-18T08:30:00.000-05:00

I am trying to get a job in NYC that I probably have a snowballs chance in hell of getting, but I thought... if each person that reads this closes their eyes and prays or if you don't pray think really hard of me getting it. It surely can't hurt.

What is the point?

2007-07-16T02:51:00.000-05:00

Somedays I just wonder

why bother

Pain Before Beauty...

2007-07-13T13:08:00.000-05:00

Pain before Beauty

In our early years, pain is limited to our personal experience; beauty is illuminated for us by what we are taught is beautiful. Our parents’ concept of beauty becomes our own until we journey further though life discovering for ourselves new perceptions.

My early perceptions of pain and beauty were gathered and learned by watching my mother dress. A wince as she plucked a few errant brow hairs, the apparent torture as she squeezed into a girdle, her shoes too tight yet they perfectly created the illusion of delicate feet. Time and again I asked, “Why do you do all of that if it hurts?” Her answer was always the same, “Pain before beauty”.

Even now, over the span of decades, her personal mantra, “Pain before beauty”, still echoes. To me, my mother was beauty. Her auburn hair glimmered gold when the sun touched it, ivory skin so soft when our cheeks touched I thought of velvet, lips full and painted red, and a waist so small that her full skirts and petticoats seemed to exist just to cling to it. The scent of Shalimar lingered to guard me as she moved to leave, her silks and satins playing a symphony.

As I watched the theater of my mother my perceptions of pain and beauty were simple; beauty was my mother and pain part of the quest for beauty, or perhaps just a scraped knee.Life visits itself upon me and pain no longer is as simple as a scraped knee or even a plucked brow.

Pain now encompasses heartache, betrayal, the suffering of those I love, lost innocence and the loss of faith. Beauty is a face that wrinkles with a smile, a mother nursing her child, courage in the eyes of a veteran, laughter, the innocence of a playing child, and unwavering faith. “Pain before beauty” became to me the mantra of a vain woman.

Ten years of fighting cancer left my mother little reason for vanity. Faith replaced vanity. Her mantra became the Hail Mary; instead of pearls she wore scapulars and clutched a rosary as she once clutched an evening bag. Her cheeks were now ashen and lined from pain, hair merely faded tufts clinging to her scalp, lips cracked and dry. The scent was of medicine; the symphony not of silk against satin but the drip of IV’s against the faltering ping of her life monitor.

At the end, we waited as she lay in a coma; her eyes opened and looking past us at once focused on the crucifix on the far wall. The joy was complete; she saw what we could not, save through her eyes. She was not afraid; she smiled and nodded as if in answer to a question and then, in a moment of rapture her soul departed, leaving the smile upon her face.

Now, I realized that with faith she had a different beauty, and I truly understood - “Pain before beauty.”

“Pain before beauty” was no longer a vain woman’s mantra to me, but a courageous woman’s epitaph.

2007-07-10T12:50:00.000-05:00

Dragonfly is the totem of the dreamtime, and illusion. Dragonfly gives us the gift of communication with the nature spirits. Dragonfly teaches us how to differentiate between the real and the imaginary energies of life, and to bring your thoughts and actions into a form which you can bring into the reality of your life. And this is why I have a dragonfly tattoo... to always remind me to live my dreams not get caught up in the dreaming itself.

Is it still Monday!????

2007-07-09T03:25:00.001-05:00

I can't do a thing with my hair!

Ugh... The Best things about Monday

2007-07-09T03:04:00.000-05:00

Is that first cup of Coffee....

Sunday Drive....

2007-07-07T21:36:00.000-05:00

For Sunday.... throw caution to the winds.

Forget the chores.

I am taking my little car for a drive to the beach...

Friday! Get Ready.... Set... Go!

2007-07-06T15:37:00.001-05:00

Thursday After The Fourth

2007-07-05T06:25:00.000-05:00

I want to be here....

so much more than here...

Woo Hooo... Another Summer Saturday

2007-06-30T01:39:00.000-05:00

It is that day I savor for its particular

flavor...

Summer Saturdays

I almost feel as if I am

nine.

Not ten or eleven but nine

Old enough to while away the

day absorbed in the imagination

but young enough to be

free

from worry

from lonliness

from any care but today

free with the hardest decision

simplicity itself - whether to go fishing at the pond

build a fort - ride bikes to the river

and lay back and listen to the horns of the tug boats go by

muddy muddy mississippi

sounds scents and sights.

Summer Saturdays

Oh Hello! It's Friday

2007-06-29T08:04:00.000-05:00

Whatcha doing?

A Lovers Moon

2007-06-29T06:14:00.001-05:00

A lover's moon

I look at the sliver of the waxing moon
reclining against a sky washed with steel blue
purpling slender clouds
fingers caressing
I know it is a lover's moon.
the scimitar curve with dual tips
razor points that rend and slice beyond healing
as a lover does in silent leave-taking.
A lover's moon.

er... would you believe me if I said.....

2007-06-28T09:37:00.000-05:00

Name that Tune

2007-06-27T15:32:00.001-05:00

What do you think should be playing on this radio?

fragments

2007-06-26T09:19:00.000-05:00

I am waiting for barren trees

for leaves that fall

without one breath ever being felt

I can see the color

but only in my memory

it flickers bright

but only for a moment

fragments

Thoughts for a Monday

2007-06-25T17:53:00.001-05:00

Saturday

2007-06-23T04:15:00.000-05:00

Summer Saturdays.

Remember when you could jump out of bed throw on your swimsuit and shorts and be out of the house? Who knew where you would go. Beach or Swimming hole or the pool. You didn't worry about anything except perhaps being home by dark. Go ahead. Do it again. Give yourself a Summer Saturday... Even if it is in your own back yard with the kids and a hose.

Today...

2007-06-21T07:56:00.000-05:00

I am asked why is everything so dark.

I say it is not dark it is just the other side

of light...

If there is sun...

there will be a shadow

but would you

give up the sun just to avoid the shadow?

I think I will stay here in the sun today

and enjoy the shadows it casts.

Suicide and Silence

2007-06-21T04:21:00.000-05:00

stiletto heels strike an assured cadence
stairway spiraling skyward
a sigh
a last single step
Screams

spinning

a downward symphony
slash stillness
sirens
silence
sweet serene silence

Resting

2007-06-20T21:01:00.001-05:00

I am resting
in the shadows
Of life
I can see the light from here
But...
it can not blind me
with its hope
I can feel the warmth from here
But...
it can not burn me
with its passion
I can cry here
And...
no one hears
that is the point
of being here
for now

Of Fish and Lures

2007-06-20T20:41:00.000-05:00

Often times....
I feel...

like a too small fish....
mesmerized. . .
by a too bright,
unattainable lure...
the lure flickers as it darts past...
tantalizes and mocks my simplicity...
as it dangles briefly...
teasing, intentionally...
then draws away...
leaving a faint trail...
that fades...
along with the allure of it.

Wonder

2007-06-20T05:16:00.000-05:00

"The most beautiful thing we can experience

is the mysterious. It is the source of all true

art and all science. He to whom this emotion

is a stranger, who can no longer pause to

wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as

dead: his eyes are closed."

(Albert Einstein)

Journey

2007-06-19T17:25:00.000-05:00

spring rain falls...

one droplet trails down the pane of glass

its course wavering

it touches another

they form together

one

together they move a course

unsteady, halting, shifting

their course ever traveling downward

their goal unknown

the glass holds imperfections

moving headlong

their journey seemingly smooth

the shimmer of the distortion draws them

only beauty do they see in the flaw

as they touch it together

it splits them asunder

they travel on alone

each carrying a part of the other

downward into the unknown.