The GRE, Graduate Record Exam. It even sounds intimidating. How to study? How to eat an elephant ... one bite at a time. I have 30 days, no; I have 39 days. sigh. I was excited for Trina, now I'm terrified for myself. I like the first way better.
Hawthorne, Melville and Poe. The three giants of the 1800's and New England. My old stomping ground; New England. Cities in Vermont are still trying to secede from the United States. Illegal aliens are struggling to find a place in the United States and a young black woman filling out a job application tries to select Arizona as the country she lives in. States juggle for a bigger piece of the money pie, politicians try to balance selling out their constituents with supporting them and fail on both ends. According to one wise high school senior there is no hunger in America. Is a balance between prosperity and personal freedom possible when the hunger for more cannot be satisfied?
So much is awry in some many areas at once. It's like trying to stop a flood with a sieve.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Blog of the Day ... September 2006
Where did it go. It was just May a minute ago and now it's nearly October. Hang on September, hang on. Don't run away, I will stop chasing you, I promise. My little girl, 35 yesterday and only six the day before.
I'm prepping for the subject test for the GRE, November 4th. Ohh am I nervous. No, not really. It's not life or death, it's only money and school.
Jessica and Jennifer are still here. Aaron started kindergarten and Jessica is in first grade. Sara and Katlyn start high school next year, the twins are close to middle school and Missy is in the middle of elementary school. Melissa is working where Susie was, Susie's in Colorado and mom is living with Frances. Jerry's better and then worse, but still bowling and my hip is starting to burn in the morning. MTV is starting to look like the mid-70's again with more skin this time and Vietnam is raging in Iraq.
I'm surviving Algebra, French is fantastic and Hawthorne is never out of date. Moby Dick is interminable and Poe depressingly desperate. I can feel the dark gloomy winter days as they leap from his pen.
And life goes on ....
but slow down ..
I'm prepping for the subject test for the GRE, November 4th. Ohh am I nervous. No, not really. It's not life or death, it's only money and school.
Jessica and Jennifer are still here. Aaron started kindergarten and Jessica is in first grade. Sara and Katlyn start high school next year, the twins are close to middle school and Missy is in the middle of elementary school. Melissa is working where Susie was, Susie's in Colorado and mom is living with Frances. Jerry's better and then worse, but still bowling and my hip is starting to burn in the morning. MTV is starting to look like the mid-70's again with more skin this time and Vietnam is raging in Iraq.
I'm surviving Algebra, French is fantastic and Hawthorne is never out of date. Moby Dick is interminable and Poe depressingly desperate. I can feel the dark gloomy winter days as they leap from his pen.
And life goes on ....
but slow down ..
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
BotDay May 2, 2006
"I love turkey legs," I scream. As I turn, I see three pairs of chubby legs pumping air trying to escape and stay at the same time.
stay, I beg again
slow down for just one day
stop churning todays
into endless yesterdays
holding my breath
I force my body into stasis
counting one breath into another
sighing wait wait wait
around me
chubby bodies lengthen
slim into long waists and longer legs
pants skitter up towards bony knees
and hugs run towards fairer game
the pause button on my vcr taunts me
with the ability to stop, move backwards
and wait, moments frozen in time
time to savor to imprint, to seal the day
but human I am and pause is beyond
my time forced existence
so I breathe slowly, hug languidly
and time flits by
stay, I beg again
slow down for just one day
stop churning todays
into endless yesterdays
holding my breath
I force my body into stasis
counting one breath into another
sighing wait wait wait
around me
chubby bodies lengthen
slim into long waists and longer legs
pants skitter up towards bony knees
and hugs run towards fairer game
the pause button on my vcr taunts me
with the ability to stop, move backwards
and wait, moments frozen in time
time to savor to imprint, to seal the day
but human I am and pause is beyond
my time forced existence
so I breathe slowly, hug languidly
and time flits by
Monday, April 24, 2006
BotD - March Winds Bring April Showers
The sky is weeping with my mom. Her best friend Shirley is gone, slipped into a fretful sleep and then quietly drifted away yesterday morning. I sorrow for her, and watch her with concern. She's 83 and Shirley was 69. Now who will mom trip around the world with? I guess it's my turn then.
In contrast, my garden is glorious with spring rains and flower seeds I threw out in January. A riot of color, even the roses are chiming in and the Aloe Vera survived the winter. Death and life, a circle. The wake was yesterday, I supplied the angel food cake and quietly left while family and closer friends sorted through stacks of photographs. May she wake in a better place.
I've now officially started playing Kingdom Hearts II, that is when Jennifer will get off my lap and give me the joystick, Jessica will let me play for ten minutes without reminding me it's her turn, and the rest sit next to me and grimace whenever I make a less-than-perfect move. Life is good. I've decided to breathe just as long as I can before I stop.
In contrast, my garden is glorious with spring rains and flower seeds I threw out in January. A riot of color, even the roses are chiming in and the Aloe Vera survived the winter. Death and life, a circle. The wake was yesterday, I supplied the angel food cake and quietly left while family and closer friends sorted through stacks of photographs. May she wake in a better place.
I've now officially started playing Kingdom Hearts II, that is when Jennifer will get off my lap and give me the joystick, Jessica will let me play for ten minutes without reminding me it's her turn, and the rest sit next to me and grimace whenever I make a less-than-perfect move. Life is good. I've decided to breathe just as long as I can before I stop.
BotD -- April 24, 2006
No, no, no. It can't be April already!
Okay, fine, it's April, or actually nearly May. My retina is still attached and I'm doing everything I was doing before, just slower.
I crashed and burned trying to write a poem a day. Emily Dickinson I am not. So I'll have to gently review my personal goals and revise revise revise.
I'm working on a short story for a class I had to drop because, well, I couldn't read. Since it was a literature class reading is not optional. But I still like the idea and am trying to get motivated to write. Today though I'm writing a eulogy.
My Mom's Best Friend, Shirley
Gleaming eyes
a smile that softens as it bears down
brows wrinkle in concentration
and then relax
in comprehension
Traveler extraordinaire
no shoes can match your stride
the winged sandals of the messenger
fits you best
You will dance on clouds of light
skip along the golden highway
and plan trip after trip
in the realms of glory
And when I join you
we'll see everything
again.
Okay, fine, it's April, or actually nearly May. My retina is still attached and I'm doing everything I was doing before, just slower.
I crashed and burned trying to write a poem a day. Emily Dickinson I am not. So I'll have to gently review my personal goals and revise revise revise.
I'm working on a short story for a class I had to drop because, well, I couldn't read. Since it was a literature class reading is not optional. But I still like the idea and am trying to get motivated to write. Today though I'm writing a eulogy.
My Mom's Best Friend, Shirley
Gleaming eyes
a smile that softens as it bears down
brows wrinkle in concentration
and then relax
in comprehension
Traveler extraordinaire
no shoes can match your stride
the winged sandals of the messenger
fits you best
You will dance on clouds of light
skip along the golden highway
and plan trip after trip
in the realms of glory
And when I join you
we'll see everything
again.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Blog of the Day -- Wednesday March 22nd
Spring Break
No freshman
on the beach
bikini clad beach balls
No umbrella clad
mai tai's
sustence for late evening
indulgences
No college girls gone wild
baring what they have
hiding what they don't
No male hotties
strutting to the tune
tits and ass
I'm going to sleep
till noon
clean house
and eat
out!
No freshman
on the beach
bikini clad beach balls
No umbrella clad
mai tai's
sustence for late evening
indulgences
No college girls gone wild
baring what they have
hiding what they don't
No male hotties
strutting to the tune
tits and ass
I'm going to sleep
till noon
clean house
and eat
out!
Blogs of the days -- March 18, 19, 20, 21, 22
OMG, my plan to write a poem a day on this blog is faltering! Okay, so here they are, five poems (sigh). Count 'em down.
March 18th
we put away
no corned beef
we ate it
we threw away
cabbage
phew
we ate
cold carrots
for a late night snack
we fried
potatoes for breakfast
yum
St. Patrick's Day
escapes our culinary designs
for another
year
March 19th
Sunday
sleeps in
'neath mile-high
comforters
while rain sleet and snow
reigns
March 20th
Monday blues
Tuesday too's
Wednesday drowsy
Thursday pouty
Friday wake
Saturday break
Sunday muse for
Monday blues
March 21st
Spring Solstice
Balmy breeze
chase away the north wind
cajole waiting lillies
from their warm nests
tease feathery royals into birth
future plums of the summer
warm the laconic land
and bring
spring
March 22nd
Forty at dawn
forty-five mid-morning
fifty at noon
fifty-eight as the school bus
corners the street
sixty greens the roses
until
forty claims the night
March 18th
we put away
no corned beef
we ate it
we threw away
cabbage
phew
we ate
cold carrots
for a late night snack
we fried
potatoes for breakfast
yum
St. Patrick's Day
escapes our culinary designs
for another
year
March 19th
Sunday
sleeps in
'neath mile-high
comforters
while rain sleet and snow
reigns
March 20th
Monday blues
Tuesday too's
Wednesday drowsy
Thursday pouty
Friday wake
Saturday break
Sunday muse for
Monday blues
March 21st
Spring Solstice
Balmy breeze
chase away the north wind
cajole waiting lillies
from their warm nests
tease feathery royals into birth
future plums of the summer
warm the laconic land
and bring
spring
March 22nd
Forty at dawn
forty-five mid-morning
fifty at noon
fifty-eight as the school bus
corners the street
sixty greens the roses
until
forty claims the night
Friday, March 17, 2006
BotD -- March 17th 2006
St. Patrick's Day.
You drove the snakes
out of Ireland?
Not!
You were an important
part of my life?
Right!
So stop
wait
you ignited people
your actions evoked myths
traveled to far off countries
settled with your countrymen
evolved
and came to mean for me
not just Corned Beef and Cabbage
or the wearin' of the green
because you
formed a connection
more than time
more than space
we are connected though
my belief
in you
You drove the snakes
out of Ireland?
Not!
You were an important
part of my life?
Right!
So stop
wait
you ignited people
your actions evoked myths
traveled to far off countries
settled with your countrymen
evolved
and came to mean for me
not just Corned Beef and Cabbage
or the wearin' of the green
because you
formed a connection
more than time
more than space
we are connected though
my belief
in you
Thursday, March 16, 2006
BotD -- March 14-15-16
March 16th
Who is packing your parachute? I got this forwarded e-mail, usually junk mail I delete, but for some reason I stopped and read the first few lines. They caught my interest, hence this blog. Charles Plumb, Navy pilot, shot down over Vietnam, POW for 6 years, sitting in a restaurant with his wife, up comes a man states that he knows him, he packed his parachute ... saved his life.
Okay, so what's the point? The lines that follow caught my interest, "Now, Plumb asks his audience, "Who's packing your parachute?" Everyone has someone who provides what they need to make it through the day."
Yes, that's true. Those unappreciated, unidentified, someones who provide what we need to make it through the day. Whoever packed your lunch, gave you Tylenol for a headache, let you in traffic, cleaned the bathroom, washed your clothes, watched your kids, gave you a hug when you felt sad. Even more basic, those someones who milked the cows, cleaned the grocery store, picked the strawberries, climbed the telephone pole and restored your service, all of those someones.
So, the next time someone annoys you, remember, that person may have packed your parachute today. Say thanks instead.
invisible
unnoticed
unextraordinary
you
have done
visible
noticed
and extraordinary things
for me
thank you
March 15th
march
in las vegas
warming up
plum trees with blossoms
rose bushes
purple faces peep through
the thorns
as snowflakes
descend
March 14th
I want
turkey legs
I growl
Suddenly
small legs pump
rugs out of the way
arms thrown into
the air
screams punctuate the
action
as I growling
tickle feet
legs and faces
when you're three
everything tickles.
Who is packing your parachute? I got this forwarded e-mail, usually junk mail I delete, but for some reason I stopped and read the first few lines. They caught my interest, hence this blog. Charles Plumb, Navy pilot, shot down over Vietnam, POW for 6 years, sitting in a restaurant with his wife, up comes a man states that he knows him, he packed his parachute ... saved his life.
Okay, so what's the point? The lines that follow caught my interest, "Now, Plumb asks his audience, "Who's packing your parachute?" Everyone has someone who provides what they need to make it through the day."
Yes, that's true. Those unappreciated, unidentified, someones who provide what we need to make it through the day. Whoever packed your lunch, gave you Tylenol for a headache, let you in traffic, cleaned the bathroom, washed your clothes, watched your kids, gave you a hug when you felt sad. Even more basic, those someones who milked the cows, cleaned the grocery store, picked the strawberries, climbed the telephone pole and restored your service, all of those someones.
So, the next time someone annoys you, remember, that person may have packed your parachute today. Say thanks instead.
invisible
unnoticed
unextraordinary
you
have done
visible
noticed
and extraordinary things
for me
thank you
March 15th
march
in las vegas
warming up
plum trees with blossoms
rose bushes
purple faces peep through
the thorns
as snowflakes
descend
March 14th
I want
turkey legs
I growl
Suddenly
small legs pump
rugs out of the way
arms thrown into
the air
screams punctuate the
action
as I growling
tickle feet
legs and faces
when you're three
everything tickles.
Monday, March 13, 2006
BofD -- March 12 and 13
Oops, I didn't post yesterday so here are two.
March 12th
simmering
just below the surface
it lives in smiles
a death's head grin
bubbles in rage
and then sinks to wait
again.
March13th
when did anger
become such a part
of my life
who I am
what I do
what I say
and when will it
stop
March 12th
simmering
just below the surface
it lives in smiles
a death's head grin
bubbles in rage
and then sinks to wait
again.
March13th
when did anger
become such a part
of my life
who I am
what I do
what I say
and when will it
stop
Saturday, March 11, 2006
BofD -- March 11, 2006
A poem a day -- I need a change of scenery.. external and internal.
The news gets worse every day, war, bombings, people dying, natural disasters. I almost hate to see what is new. And I suspect that marketing compels the media to make events sound more than what they are, more disastrous, more horrible, more whatever, to sell the news, to sell the sponsor's products, to sell sell sell.
So I'm reading about Emily Dickinson, the poetess from Amhurst, Mass. Her desire for solitude, her genius in writing poetry, her desire for privacy, and now we have to guess from what little remains who she was, why she was a recluse and what her poetry means. Not, have to; want to. So what does my poetry mean? What does anyone's poetry mean? By me.....
it snowed today
brief white flakes
drifting in solitary solumnity
exhaling in momentary freedom and youth
until individuality becomes anonyminity
falling onto street, car, tree, grass
and melting into
obscurity
The news gets worse every day, war, bombings, people dying, natural disasters. I almost hate to see what is new. And I suspect that marketing compels the media to make events sound more than what they are, more disastrous, more horrible, more whatever, to sell the news, to sell the sponsor's products, to sell sell sell.
So I'm reading about Emily Dickinson, the poetess from Amhurst, Mass. Her desire for solitude, her genius in writing poetry, her desire for privacy, and now we have to guess from what little remains who she was, why she was a recluse and what her poetry means. Not, have to; want to. So what does my poetry mean? What does anyone's poetry mean? By me.....
it snowed today
brief white flakes
drifting in solitary solumnity
exhaling in momentary freedom and youth
until individuality becomes anonyminity
falling onto street, car, tree, grass
and melting into
obscurity
Friday, March 10, 2006
BofD -- March 5, 2006
Barney Fife
where are you?
your wide smile
wider eyes
arms akimbo
Barney,
the Sheriff is looking
for you
his hair is white
his tall straight figure
bowed
and his eyes wet
with the tears
of your
departure
where are you?
your wide smile
wider eyes
arms akimbo
Barney,
the Sheriff is looking
for you
his hair is white
his tall straight figure
bowed
and his eyes wet
with the tears
of your
departure
BotD -- March 6, 2006
Lois Lane
has gone
Superman departed
first
the smile slowly fading as
he returned to
his planet from whence
he arrived
young strong free
but Lois Lane
without Superman
fled the halls of Justice
sank weeping upon the frozen throne
and departed
while the spirit
of the American Way
wept
has gone
Superman departed
first
the smile slowly fading as
he returned to
his planet from whence
he arrived
young strong free
but Lois Lane
without Superman
fled the halls of Justice
sank weeping upon the frozen throne
and departed
while the spirit
of the American Way
wept
BotD -- March 8, 2006
I am working
sdrawkcab
in time
inexorably drawing
efil
out of myself
onto my
nep
until finally
deniard
time unnervingly
straped
sdrawkcab
in time
inexorably drawing
efil
out of myself
onto my
nep
until finally
deniard
time unnervingly
straped
BotD -- March 9, 2006
Post
post now
post
post right now
post
staring back
at me
the stodgy blog
demands
my heart soul blood
post post post post post
posit
oops
post now
post
post right now
post
staring back
at me
the stodgy blog
demands
my heart soul blood
post post post post post
posit
oops
Blog of the Day -- March 10, 2006
A poem a day?
Restlessly
They scamper
Thought by thought
Skipping through
The recesses of my mind
Until weary of their
Playful taunts
They depart
And sleep
arrives
Restlessly
They scamper
Thought by thought
Skipping through
The recesses of my mind
Until weary of their
Playful taunts
They depart
And sleep
arrives
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
The last day in February
Today is the last day of the month of February, 2006. Thinking about that reminds me of Stephen King's short story "The Langoliers". It was a wonderful explanation of what happens to the past. As far as I'm concerned the whole month of February could get sucked up into the maws of the langoliers.
Three stars to the right
mask the light
of the moon
three stars to the left
shadow the heart
of the sun
three stars descending
foot the base
of the milky way
three stars ascending
crown
the sky
so where does that leave
me?
Three stars to the right
mask the light
of the moon
three stars to the left
shadow the heart
of the sun
three stars descending
foot the base
of the milky way
three stars ascending
crown
the sky
so where does that leave
me?
Blog of the Day -- February 2006
Well, it happened, another detached retina, this time in my other eye. Okay, I'm recovering, I can see 20-40 with glasses, which means I can read large print and when I get glasses I can drive, during the day.
Post Day
Day one
eye hurts
head hurts
can't see
damn
Day seven
eye sore
head aches
I can see the dog
oops, was that the cat?
damn
Day ten
less pain
head fuzzy
is that a spider?
Oh, hi Aaron
damn
Day fourteen
if I don't move
too fast
nothing hurts
too much
damn
Day twenty
bowling
walking
squinting
reading
ouch ... damn
Day twenty-four
your face
seems familiar
oh, hi honey
huh?
Damn?
Post Day
Day one
eye hurts
head hurts
can't see
damn
Day seven
eye sore
head aches
I can see the dog
oops, was that the cat?
damn
Day ten
less pain
head fuzzy
is that a spider?
Oh, hi Aaron
damn
Day fourteen
if I don't move
too fast
nothing hurts
too much
damn
Day twenty
bowling
walking
squinting
reading
ouch ... damn
Day twenty-four
your face
seems familiar
oh, hi honey
huh?
Damn?
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