What I'm Most Grateful for Today at Age 67

I only want to kiss you I lamented when I lost my libido.
You said fine. I love that you only kissed me
for a long time until I asked for more. You obliged
and we discovered a whole new way to ignite
passion that found its fulfillment. Today,
I love you most for that.

55 for the G-Man - giving thanks for things that really matter.

Shades of Grey

Today,
snow laden
clouds, low slung, blur
boundaries of earth
and sky. Grey sky
melds to grey hills,
all features fused shades
of grey, indistinct,
straight grey patterns
where vineyards grew
yesterday,
soft grey mounds
of olive groves.
Limbo, lost
between here and there,
a place of waiting,
ready to move on,
but not able,
separated
from here,
there sighted
yet denied.


Prompted by Kerry over at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads who posted evocative B & W photos and had us writing in B & W or shades of grey. Photo taken from my balcony.

Tanka

Clouds cluster on hills,
rain streams for days without cease
drives birds from the sky.
When you left all air went too.
Skies gray, leaves fall without sound.

Yesterday, Kerry posted a third article on Tanka over at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads. It took me a while so I'm posting this for open link Monday.

Repost- January Child

January Child

I came along in the dead of winter

born in my own time three weeks late.

Father was at work.

Mother begged a ride from a neighbor

to go and do her woman's work alone.

She napped me on the porch

to be toughened by the snows

and gales of winter,

to cut my teeth on New England nor'easters

and fight the undeclared war against girls.

Middle child, only girl, small for my age.

Both brothers slept the porch in spring

took for granted the abundance

of our neighborhood, the visitors and friends,

the elms and hyacinths, maples and forsythias,

spring greens, yellows and new hues,

the migratory flocks parading back to northern homes.

Both boys read books, played quiet games

grew fat on father's favor.

I grew to a storm-wintered warrior child

sight practiced on bare lilac thicket,

schooled by wind in how the world sounds,

cries accompanied by blackbirds and jays,

layered against the elements.

Perhaps my skirmishes were attempts

to win that unwinable war

but I fought with the fury of calling,

battered brothers' enemies,

marshaled anger from hidden fronts

as I gave birth to myself.


The fabulous Fireblossom over at Imaginary Gardens with real Toads asked us to pick the favorite poem that we've written and repost it for Simply the Best. Mine was posted on 11/15/11.

Sister

dang sister of mine
don't learn pays no mind
to me no matter
her life splatter

just trying to help her
trying to save her
from clutches dragging her down
too far before she drown

she don't care one whit
feels good gets lit
lit brings no damn good
been where she goin' by god


For the G-Man on Friday who has us write a story in 55 words.

Rain

It started as a shower
like the final rinse at the car wash
but kept going for four days of storm,
streets awash, flowers destroyed, schools cancelled,
busses grounded, canoes used on Main Street.
Rain a sadness

catastrophic, the loss grieved
such that crying can't suffice,
enough to demand deluge and flood,
a leaving home, family, country, culture, language
in one swoop, marooned in the unfamiliar
with no way back, no way to tend the heart.


Peggy gave us photo prompts over at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads and it's open link night at dVerse Poets Pub.

First Bike

The first time I rode a bike
I flew- blue bike handed down from brother
too big with the bar across the middle, so I stood up to pedal
until my legs were long enough to sit the saddle.

I imagined me growing as I rode,
as I went where I wanted with only me to decide
on long summer days, returned when I was done,
forgot all else. When did I learn to balance? Did I eat?

I only rode, wind on my skin waking me up,
taking me away.


Mary over at dVerse Poets Pub has us writing about childhood toys.

River Lee

When you were young I sang
a silly rhyme to make you smile:
Kelly Marie from the banks of the Lee,
Kelly Marie from the banks of the Lee.

37 years later, here I am in Cork
on the banks of the River Lee
as it flows around a bend, breaks
over rocks in its path and splashes

down a small waterfall at the turn.
The river reminds me of you, shows
your kind of purposeful strength, clips
quick- paced toward its ocean goal.

Like you, it's lovely
in this nature setting next to a park,
where branches overhang it, hear its murmers
before it crashes headlong to the city's edge.

You, too, found your flow, swim
gorges of swift- flowing rivers two continents from here
with your great, great grandmother's river in your DNA,
so sure a course, so far away.


Posted for my daughter, Kelly Marie, and in response to a prompt by Ed Pilolla over at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads who gave us a word list on the theme of rivers. I'm currently visiting Cork, Ireland and staying at the River Lee Hotel. Hence the poem. Only a few years ago I learned my great grandmother and grandfather were from Cork. My daughter also did a semester abroad at University College Cork and has a photo of herself beside the River Lee.

Dona Nobis Pacem

In the cave of every soul
we pray for peace,
our words sisters to silence.
Grant us peace,
all of us.
We are
one.

Kerry over at Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads has linked to the annual Nov. 4th Blogblast 4 peace. What a good thing to focus our energies on furthering world peace. One voice at a time.

The View from My Balcony

Last night's sunset over the Majella Mountains:

This morning's sunrise over the Adriatic Sea:

With today sunny and in the 70's for my walk on the beach and warm memories from dinner last evening with good friends, I'm feeling grateful.

The Gathering

For ten years we've met,
the young women of our family
with two crones.
We've committed to each other,
grown closer, become friends,
as have our children,
three generations set the compass for change
in our lives, doing now
what will benefit seven generations hence
and relishing the journey,
our lives spiraled into new constellations.


The women in the photo above (my daughter and nieces together with my sister-in-law and me) just celebrated one decade of gathering together each year, spouses and children welcome, but with time set aside just for us to gather in a circle and re-connect. I wrote about it previously here and here. This year the next generation decided to take over the organizing of the gathering and expand it. They have some wonderful ideas. One decade has ended. The next has begun.

Offered for the G-Man's Friday Flash 55.