Spring blossoms beckon
The fruits of summer’s labor
Spring blossoms beckon
The fruits of summer’s labor
Showering her gifts
To all who pay her homage
Sweet, pink abundance
She was still and sang
Calmly embracing her peace
As the hawks circled
Hiding in Plain SightLuminous greetings
Luna peeking through sunlight
Deal Me In Unexpected chance
Risk takers found floating bets
Gambled on water
#riverboat #tres’ #Nashville
Haiku ToiletriesBathroom selfie dare
First (and last) effort complete
Note: need longer arms
So this sweet little miss visited me the other day…
Subtle little friends
Warming the gloomiest days
Love’s slyest bounties
She sang me his blues
One flying monkey, fallen
Washed out on new shores
The music of peace fills me
Christmas wish lists filed
Reverse climate changes now
Santa needs a home
Forlorn longing sighs
Spring’s promises to Summer
Pivot toward dark
Weak, last ditch appeals to Sun
Spring promised; prolong our youth
Poor girl didn’t heed
Cries of the already drowned
Smothered; false kisses
Warnings lost in hard pursuits
T’was never hard to know you
Mad-hatters shape shift
He becomes every dream
Weaving so under your skin
Never releasing his prey
Tied more closely than chained links
Oh, the tricks, those ploys
The spell forever changing
The whirls of madness now reign
The Queen of Hearts said to the wee thing:
“How hard it can be for lost hearts to get it. The moment is passed and yet, some refuse to buzz-off even after their true colors have been brought to light and rejected. Such strange senses of ownership, but then new/old conquests refuse to believe hypnotic methods could fool them, no matter how much is offered in foresight. The trance in full effect – ‘he knows me like no other’…. They all do, dear. That’s their job. They stare and stare and stare at you until you give it all”.
“I wonder if we’re so different after all…perhaps that’s why they simply cannot say goodbye after, like a varicella-zoster, content to hide in the shadows forevermore”…
The diminishing days of summer begin to tug at my only-just-now-relaxing heartstrings. I’m not ready to give up the heat, the light, the energy of the extra sunlight; not where we live anyway.
We live in a rain-forest and not the kind that, in winter, envelopes the area in near bathwater-warm mists. Oh no, ours is that infamous, sopping, bitterly chill ya to cellular level till you cry kind of dampness. That cheery fun matched only by the varying depths of blanketing grey masses that blot out said light of grace.
So, is it any wonder I choose to claw back the impending doom and seek out the remnants of brilliance and shine? To hang onto the trailing sweet scents of fresh leaves and grasses and florals? To seek even more comfort in the flowing lightness of shimmery breezes (and really cute apparel)?
All of which serves to ease even the biggest workload into a sense of partial vacation. Maybe it’s closer to the idea of just vacant, but still… if it works for escapism purposes…
Soon enough, the world’s turn will darken patio libations and I will have no choice but to submit to the inevitable. Grey. Slate, Dove, Ash, Charcoal. Grey. Well, at least that is, until we get to the mixed and even, garish jewel tones of Christmas. Oh my… Can’t wait!
In the meantime, some of my micro-tributes to summer colour:
White blooms speaking innocence
Thus mine are yellow 😄
Secrets of the heart
A mere two souls know my fave
Sunny, bright, happy
Deep, warm, inviting caress
A bed of warm intellect
The real couleur de l’amour
I came across a pretty great poetic thought on Twitter, and be damned if I could find it again to properly quote and credit it, but it said something along the line of, “poetry is where the pain goes”. I’d wager there’s a pretty big crowd of us that wade in that poetic pool.
I’m not saying I had a painful week, but once again inspiration hit while I was perusing a friend’s street art photos. Some old heart matters reared up, and I couldn’t resist the pull of the bard. So a short ode to a long week. Wishing all a really fabulous final August weekend.
Help, help she called out
Alas, only silence heard
No hook on the line
When the deeds been done
The new victim acquiesced
Signed on for the ride
Oh, the glee, oh if only
Oh, to be flies on the wall
Oh, soul Girl, step slow
Do beware red hearts, Alice
Their souls are so black
Tread most carefully, angel
Every promise, a trick
Of great character
Lovely men earn the prizes
Strong and gentle wins
Cowards wilt in their presence
Fight or flight; laugh while they run
I’ve written a few times about the days of my childhood, when my mother was alone or alone within the presence of an abusive man who tormented her and her children. I’ve even written a bit about that broken man. Yet, I’ve never been able to really put down a word of meaning about the man who would ultimately become my beacon of manly decency, the barometer for all who’d follow and be measured against.
No matter how hard I tried to write a nod of love for Father’s Day or his birthday, whatever event, I would draw a blank or the words I put down felt far too much like a eulogy. Even when I wanted to relay one of his famous tales of hilarity, I’d cringe at how much it felt like I was standing at a funeral lectern; the same feelings washed over me as did when I delivered a eulogy for one of his grandchildren.
Then, this summer holiday, during our annual events of hugs and dinner talk, huge laughter, day trips, familial eye-rolling impatience, and intense political arguments that look like someone’s about to get offed, I entered epiphany territory. If I didn’t say these things now, for him, to him, ultimately my words really would simply become the very thing I feared.
So here it is, not a “Happy Something Day” anything. Just a summer hug to my dad, who as a step-father, stepped in it and all over it in his own inimitable way, to become the embodiment of what a man of decency and character should be. Whose heart was far bigger than he needed to shelter us. Whose protective and respectful love is genuine and unreserved.
He’s shown how it’s done after screw ups. Oh yes, he’s definitely a pro at screwing up, BUT he’s equally adept at employing his best to undo his infractions. His apologies are quick and he fills the holes of his failings with triple the ratio of acts of kindness. I’ve never met a man who wants to make up for his failings as badly as he. It’s one of his most admirable aspects which has repaid him with enormous, widespread respect.
Outside of that, he’s your basic straight shooter, what you see is what you get, and certainly honesty is a key attribute. Well, unless he’s got a story to tell. There’s no doubt he’s got a blarney bone floating in there, but that’s just one more lovable trait, right? I’ve not met anyone yet, who can tell a tale with his level of wit and witty circuitous routes. That’s bonus material right there.
And so, if all this isn’t the embodiment of good character, what is? His shoes will always be a bit of a loose fit for someone to fill, but that ain’t no complaint by me. Damned certain neither of us will ever make apology for that. I hope when he sees this note, he’ll feel my respect too. Maybe he’ll even have seen something that surprises. Whatever his feelings, I do know I’ll get a hug not long after.
Summer heart purging, it’s like spring cleaning, but the summer haze softens reflection edges without the sweat inducing labour. If you’ve a chance to sit back for a bit with your memories and you’ve grown enough with them to have learned something real, something honestly measurable, forgiveness is sometimes an unexpected result.
I know there are different understandings of what forgiveness means, and for me, it’s mostly along the lines that the flare of anger sparked by a flash into my past is essentially gone. It’s that point where I can remember an event – even with a shudder, but without the piercing hurt. Where I can speak freely without tears, where I can see I was led astray and where I followed even when my instincts stung me with a no.
It’s when I know if I were to meet that situation again, I’d know exactly how to handle it in the best interest of my heart forevermore. It’s when I know I have stopped beating myself up and in clarity, realized where it all took me. So far, even the worst of monsters in my life ultimately mined strengths and abilities I’d never dreamed were in me… and beyond even that, the truest reveal is, I’m at peace.
ProselyliarsDo ask the prophet
Please sate your spiritual needs
‘Cause he’s God’s right hand
Ask him, pray tell all knowledge
Your belief, the deadly price
Double BillingDouble dog billing
Starring bereft alpha souls
Red and gold flame outs
Beware harem frenemies
Two faces, double the bites
Ogres and MonstrositiesFair and fairer won
Booby prizes of the year
Thought they knew better than, but
Fell harder than anyone
Here’s to the times we get the last laughs… Cheers!