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

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.

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.

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!

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