frowny-face

it's not a dislike of fried eggs
it's not a spontaneous dance-off with a five year old
nor Mrs. Peacock, aghast

it's tearing up, watery eyes
traitorous lump in your throat
with a heartache stomach-burn
depressive writing, another page to turn   ...

flinchless

I keep thinking, that one day... - one day I'll be eighty, and I won't flinch any more. I won't cringe with embarrassment. I won't turn bright red, or have to leave, out of embarrassment for a character in a movie. I'll be able to read through dramatic irony without having to skip ahead to make sure that I will survive. one day, all this over conciousness will fade. One day those moments that flash back out of no where will be gone and won't make me flinch because I just turned pink in a room full of strangers for no apparent reason and perhaps made an audible squeak. 

back-up planning all the what ifs and when its

Do you ever have those moments when you try to imagine the future, and it's nothing but a thick rolling fog? Picture yourself at this job for the next twenty years....no, nothing, FOG. Yes, as a high energy manager making a difference and improving the product and company. Picture yourself expressing yourself through music, sitting at a piano, singing along with the radio.... yes, yes, no?
When we first moved into this home, I'd try to picture our future yet I couldn't see beyond a few years. Not in a pessimistic or concerned sort of way. More of an acceptance of there being a bend in the road that one can't see past the trees and beyond yet.  So different now, with our mobility and wealth, one can pack and move and up and go and then try to go back again if we really want. We're not the log cabin just one plot further up the road from town.
Other things are less foggy, even when my mind wanders to the pessimistic.
Lose my voice? I will play piano, even with my stiff wrists.
Lose my hair? I love scarves, hats and slouchy soft warm beanies.
Lose my sight? My books will still be there.
Lose my stomach? Did you know that the human body is a miracle and we can adjust to life without?
We have so much, yet always thinking, contemplating, marveling, worrying and back-up planning all the what ifs and when its.

asparagus

the word asparagus brings to mind a picture of the green edible, on a fancy white platter with expensive gold edging, on a fancy white clothed table and some older, prim, woman, (see Mrs. Peacock here), across from you, gasping, with her hand on her throat, shocked, and rather indignant, of what you have just done, as you feel a mischievous grin growing on your face and the sparkle in your eye getting brighter.



asparagus

Reposted ~ Explanation ~

hello there, you, reading this blog. i've decided to repost some of my old, perhaps cryptic, attempts at poetry that i had previously posted under another blog hoping that would help me gain poetic momentum. alas! no go. i've added them into this blog, keeping the original dates and adding "Reposted:" to the beginning of the title and tagging them with reposted also. if you would like (no judgement on my part whether you would or would not), use the tag reposted that i've included on this post as well to bring them up.

wyrd

I started reading  Beowulf again. This time, a translation by Seamus Heaney. AMAZING. So many translations to choose from, so many people are critics of the epic and ignore the translation, or are ignorant of the origins of this masterpiece. I am thoroughly enjoying Beowulf, partly due to it being something I decided to read again rather than be assigned, and partly due to the wonderful translation. If you have any desire to read this ancient poem, I would strongly recommend this version.

On a side note, reading Heaney's introduction to his translation of Beowulf also gave me a quite a bit more appreciation for Katharine Kerr's incredibly detailed Deverry series (fifteen books of interwoven lives and stories). Sometimes we just enjoy a work of art for it's beauty, not being able to fathom the effort and immensity of what the artist did to give us the final version. When we get a hint, it's a glimmer of something incomprehensible in our peripheral vision, so easily dismissed    ---  unless we have been there too, and recognize it in ourself as well.

musing

thought
       throwing rocks at roses

persuasion
       pearls before swine

completion
       crowns before a throne

infinity
       in a place beyond time