These Days

These days,
Meaning at the present time,
Not the past,
Not the future.
These days,
Solitude fits me well.
It provides stability and comfort,
And an awareness of my needs,
Holding onto me,
Without overwhelming me.
No physical strength and warmth,
But a calming presence
That feels natural
And timely.

Delta blues

So hot
My water bottle is sweating.
My iced tea that was mostly ice is now weak and warm
And still the cup is sweating.
No breeze,
and I am sweating.
Swinging a fan seems like
it would be
too much work.
So I let the sweat drip
into my eyes.
My shirt clings,
My legs are slick,
But still I sit
and listen
to the blues.
In the delta,
That’s what people do.
Get hot and sweaty.
You can hear it in the music.

Blues Fest

Blues and dancing.
Listening and watching.
Not doing.
And that is fine with me.
A hot afternoon of music
Is just what I needed.
Now all I need is to do it
Again tomorrow,

Just Write

This popped out of my head this morning when I woke up. Rambling and unedited.

Write your pain
Write your happiness
Write your nightmares
Write our dreams
Just write.

Write about pain and nightmares
to get them
Out of your head
Analyze
Wallow a little
Chew it up and spit it out.
So you can move on.

Happiness can be harder to write
You don’t want to let it go,
Celebrate with words
But not for too long
Keep the feeling inside as
Long as you can.

Write about dreams
To flesh them out
And make them real.

For whatever reason you have,
Just write

CAPS Lock

Caps lock,
Thanks a lot.
It took so long to log in
I forgot my thought.

Lost in Thought

Lost in thought
Fleeting thought
Thought process
Devoid of thought.

How about living in a space where
No one knows what you are thinking,
Your thoughts are locked
Inside the parts of your brain that work
But the parts of your brain
Related to turning your thoughts into words
Don’t work.
Confused
Frightened
Alone
Dependent.
No longer frustrated
Because that thought
No longer exists.
Tranquil for you.
Scary and sad to outsiders.
Broken and not able to be fixed.
No way to leave your inner world.

The Visit

Sitting with my parents. 

They’re napping

Mom in her wheelchair next to me

Dad in a chair near the window.

Waiting until lunchtime

When dad and I will leave.

And Mom will stay 

In her chair

In her own world.

I wonder if she will miss us.

Sent from my iPhone

When thank you isn’t enough

Sometimes someone says or does something that leaves me speechless. Because I don’t know what to say and because I’m not sure I can say it without crying.

Sometimes the words
Thank you
Just don’t seem like they are enough.
Sometimes no words
can possibly
be enough.
And even if you could think of the right words,
You wouldn’t be able to get them past
the lump in your throat.
So you try to say something,
While you blink back the tears.
And you hope that someday
You will have the chance
to be this kind,
And that you will do it
Because you want to,
And you will be gracious enough
to understand
That an unspoken thank you
can be enough.

Mother’s Day weekend musings

My Mother’s Day weekend musings. Lest I offend anyone, this is my opinion and my view. I don’t begrudge anyone who cherishes celebrating mothers on Mother’s Day or fathers on Father’s Day. I’m thankful that we can each find reasons to celebrate and people to love.

For Jamie and Becky. I love you.

Tomorrow is Mother’s Day.
Not my favorite holiday.
I’m not saying that every day should be mother’s day,
But I would appreciate it if my children
would love and respect me,
Every day, or nearly every day.
Having a holiday
so children can declare their love
with gifts and food,
And by spending money,
Seems more like Corporate holiday marketing
than a holiday meant to honor
Mothers.
It’s kind of like
St. Patricks Day,
But instead of drinking massive amounts of alcohol.
We imbibe in chocolate and brunch,
and give bouquets of flowers that will die within a week.
Celebrate my birthday,
I’ll celebrate yours.
Celebrate my successes,
help me through my failures,
Stay with me during my keep my head above water times.
And I will do the same for you.
Celebrate me giving you life,
by living with the values and integrity
you know I want you to have
and that I have tried to display.
Gift me because something catches your eye
and you want me to have it
Pamper me because you want to
and not because society says this is the day to do it.
Live, love, laugh, cry.
Run, walk, crawl, jump, dance.
Fall down, get back up.
Make mistakes, learn from them,
And be yourself
no matter what anyone else tells you.
If it feels right,
It is the right thing to do.
Just don’t break any laws in the process.

Cucumbers and Tomatoes

Cucumbers and tomatoes kind of day.
Too hot and humid for May.
Too soon to get garden fresh.
So have to make do with store bought.
While you’re there,
why not get some crisp radishes,
too.

Apology accepted, now move on

Some people apologize to much over something really minor and it can be a little annoying. Well, maybe more than a little, depending on circumstances. 

Don’t beat yourself up on my account.
If you really feel a need
to beg forgiveness,
and grovel,
You might need to find
a different target.
I don’t need you to feel sorry
about possibly inconveniencing me.
I told you it was okay.
I wouldn’t have said that
if I didn’t mean it.
I know you mean well,
But I would rather that
you move on
and not make me feel badly
about you making a minor mistake.
I don’t need you
to tell me over and over
in great detail
how sorry you are.
All I want to do is move on.
It really is okay.
If it isn’t okay for you,
then that is your issue
and your business.
So,please leave me out of it.
In other words
Stop apologizing to me
And move on.
Because if you don’t,
then you really will have something major
to feel sorry about.

WYSIWYG

I didn’t plan to write this one in first person, but it came out that way and it is too late at night and I am way too tired to try it another way. So maybe this is the way I wanted it to be.

WYSIWYG
I don’t try to be cool.
Or perfect.
Or right.
I just try to live
as much of my life as I can
on my terms.
In other words,
I try to live my life
my way,
Which sounds like Sinatra,
as written by Paul Anka,
to a tune borrowed from a couple of Frenchmen,
But isn’t.
I’m not borrowed
or defiant.
I’m just trying to get by,
And trying to be true to
Me.

WHat Kind of night will it be

Some nights it is a struggle
to write.
Some nights, the words come
but make no sense at all
or just rehash old stories.
And on some nighs, the words flow
and fall perfectly into place
on the page.
No telling what kind of night it will be
until it happens.