Archive for September, 2010


Wind blown

dancer

twirls

as the fall

of

yellow, red, orange

rustling skirts

swirl

float

settle

Wind-borne

blankets

orange, red, yellow

scatter

spread

layer

in glorious beauty

I fall dizzily

covered in delight

Wind blown

dancer

This poem is in remembrance of my Mother and for my children

This poem is for One Shot Wednesday

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Oh Mother, as a child

I longed for your embrace

but is was not to be

Never, did I know your face

Oh Mother, as I began to grow

I prayed you would be near

but all too soon I realized

I’d have to face my fears

Oh Mother, you were not meant

to ever come home again

I slowly became aware

this battle you could not win

But Mother, because of the love I’d missed

I wished for a difference for my own

then made a promise to God and myself

that my children would never be alone

I’d be the mother I’d prayed and pined for

laying open my heart to see them through

this conscious choice was the best I could give

so they’d never long as I’d longed for you

I was honored with the Shower of September Awards by Fiveloaf

So you think you’ve got it all figured out

as the walls of your wrapped-up world

begin to crumble before your very eyes

But as your life is crashing down around you

you keep saying, I don’t want to start again

I don’t want to have to start over

I don’t want to be alone

So, instead of choosing that which

deep down you know, is right for you

you  desperately hang on to a past

that takes you nowhere

that only takes you down

This is your chance to turn the corner

Walk toward the light; the light that

has shone on you from the start

Only YOU have forgotten

where you started from

when you pulled up

almost all of your roots

But the soil of this garden

continually tilled through the years

has remained fertile, in the sun

(For Monday Poetry Potluck)

Sighing

to breathe

Trying

to heave

sad thoughts

away

Starting

the climb

Restarting

the mind

Let come

what may

Lighten

the load

Heighten

the mode

Sadness

at bay

I was given this award by

my dear friend, Jingle

and also by Tasithoughts


Rules to accept the award:

1: Link to the person who gave it to you,

2. List 10 things that make you happy,

3. Pass it on to 10 happy bloggers.

4. Notify the nominees about this Happy Award.

Ten (10) Things that make me happy:

1: Feeling loved

2:my husband’s and children’s presence

3: bringing a smile to others

4:singing anytime and especially with my husband playing his guitar, playing piano

5:the ocean and the ocean sound and breezes, seashells, sea birds, dolphins

6: expressing creativity through writing ,art,dance, sewing, crafting, decorating

7:seeing and touching most animals especially puppies, bunnies, kittens 

8: birds and birdsong

9:listening to music (most kinds)

10:experiencing nature’s bounty and beauty eg. flowers, fruiting and all trees, vegetable gardens, butterflies, hiking, walking, bicycling , the sun, a cool breeze, spring, summer, autumn ( don’t care for winter as much)

Δ Δ Δ Δ Δ Δ Δ

Wish you’d call

when you didn’t

come up short

when you weren’t

bored at work

Wish you’d call

when there was no

new drama

when you had some

happy news

Wish you’d call

to simply say

“you’ve been on

my mind today;

thought I’d call”

In a day

we go from

awake, present, cheerful

to a place

busy, active, thought-filled

to deep within

overwhelmed, distracted, contemplative

then nowhere

tired, unfocused, zombied

ending up somewhere

unwinding, relaxed, peaceful

in to night

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

This poem is for Thursday Poets Rally

These lovely gifts are from Jingle

This beautiful gift is from Kavita

I have returned and I am ready to share with you again. Thank you to one and all for the kind words for my son and myself. While I was away, I have been honored with The Perfect Poet Award from Amrita Ghosh which I post here along with my nomination.

I nominate Fiveloaf for The Perfect Poet Award.

¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥

If  home is where the heart is

then, this one

made of deep red elastic

has omnipresently stretched

across this country, as well as

to the far corners of the world

and into the hereafter

transcending even death

Mine is a heart of many homes

with a welcome mat lying

on each doorstep

the doors, standing wide open

But, can this bottomless pitcher

of love’s outpouring

be truly felt, here and afar

each time the mind thinks

of a loved one

or someone in need?

My heart has many homes

but my eyes

remain in the clouds

with my head

Oh, but wait

I see a white dove

headed my way

with something red

held in his beak