Uncategorized | pictured words

UNTITLED HAIBUN

Incredible image courtesy of Lars_Nissen_Photoart, on Pixabay

He asks what my hardest moments have been, pressing me to purposely reflect on a life that has been primarily appreciation-inducing. I had parents who loved me well and modeled life; relatives who enveloped and affirmed me; friends who have laughed with me, and accepted my limitations; a sister with whom I can celebrate differences and honor common blood; children and grandchildren of limitless love; a husband who gives selflessly and fills my gaps; a Savior who has walked beside me since my earliest days. These thoughts of great blessing bring easy breath and grateful tear. Not that I have not experienced occasional pain. Loss of loved ones. Moves I did not want to make. Divorce. I have not been exempt from affliction. But searing misery has come from a single source: The suffering of those I love.

There is no torment
more incapacitating
than wanton worry.

5 Comments

Image | July 2, 2019

6 Comments

June 30, 2019

TRUER THINGS

Image by Brian Merrill from Pixabay

What makes you feel loved?
I silently asked no one in particular,
Expecting their response
To match mine.
But it didn’t.
So I had to learn them –
Their language,
Their movements,
Their culture,
Their needs,
Their history –
Them.
Then I silently said again,
To all who were there and not there –
What makes you feel loved?
This time, their answer matched mine.
It always did.

3 Comments

Image | June 29, 2019

June 16, 2019

FOR SOPHIE AND IZZY (our Rosie and Bean)

31460932_1901360483487536_8966844042675486720_n

62211141_2232872437003004_3899175725982285824_n

Four little loved feet lived a few feet away
‘Til they moved to St. Thomas’s lush Caret Bay.
Abruptly, an ocean and 2,000 miles
Created a chasm, and dampened our smiles.

But then they moved closer (no ocean to cross)
And the far-fewer miles seemed less of a loss.
“It’s all relative,” as the old saying goes,
But oh how we still miss our Bean and our Rose.

Now all of a sudden, life’s changing again!
We’re all looking forward to Saturday, when
Four little loved feet can stay put and not roam:
Our Sophie and Izzy are coming back home!

It’s hard to believe it’s been only one year
Since we said our goodbyes, and we choked back our tears.
Here’s move number three in a rather short time –
Returning our smiles, and ending this rhyme. 😉

7 Comments

June 13, 2019

PRAYER OF MY PRAYERS

45724991_1427542094044369_2088245371699462144_n

Photo by Keith R. Good

May my prayers be ever sung

honestly, easily

off of my tongue

vividly earnest, and fertile with praise

ceaselessly proffered

for all of my days.

1 Comment

June 10, 2019

62390180_10156700955883600_919739866021888000_n

Photo by Eric Mavis

Stretching on tiptoe
to apply makeup. Dad’s love,
a good foundation.

#seventeeninnineteen

2 Comments

June 9, 2019

WISTFULLY CONVINCED

Helps the medicine go down.

“Imagination is the true magic carpet.” ~Norman Vincent Peale

I. JASMINE AND MARY

One flies on carpet.
The other, her umbrella.
Both take me with them.

II. UNCLE ALBERT

Sometimes I believe
if I laugh hard enough, I’ll
float to the ceiling.

III. DOROTHY

Don’t be surprised to
witness me clicking my heels
when I get homesick.

IV. BASTIAN

See, books are more real
than our realest lives, and “nothing”
can take that away.

June 2, 2019

THE DEARLY DEPARTIED

technology-3200401_640

There once was a gal named Marie
Whose good friends and fam would agree
If she’s uninvited,
She’s just as delighted
To stay home and drink her hot tea.

4 Comments

May 26, 2019

WHEN THE PURPOSE OF KNEES WAS TO BE SKINNED

61376877_10156663268568600_7855837626421477376_n

Splinters were the worst.
Tweezers first;
Needles if needed
While I screamed and squirmed
And wormed my way
Back out to play.

Skipping, flipping
Chipping my tooth
(Now it’th loothe)
Palms muddied
Bloodied nose drips
Split lips
Both knees shredded
Splinter still embedded.

Inspired by the line “when the purpose of knees was to be skinned,” from John Tobias’ Reflections on a Gift of Watermelon Pickle Received from a Friend Called Felicity
(Thanks to my friend Lydia, who gifted me the book that contains John’s poem!)