Today I wrote these and was reminded by Slava that I hadn't done much here lately and should post them. I know I said I would be updating this site quite a while back, but life got in the way after I made that plan. Meantime I've started another blog and will be sharing that quite soon. I've been having trouble getting it the way I like and blogger is not at all as easy as is reported. I've looked at a few YouTube videos, which have not been at all helpful!!! The images they post of what the page looks like under design is entirely different from this! I'm sure I'll get it in the end, but here in the middle it's very confusing!!!

Here are my two new poems:

Evil thrives on silence

Evil loves a meal of silence,
feasting on averted eyes,
with shrugs on the side
and savors pursed lips
for dessert.

Evil's small and sneaky
sliding into your heart
when you're not looking
for anything but an
easy life.




Slices of Sun

Slices of sun cut
the grass into dark
and shimmering light,
pink and yellow flowers
watch quietly from
the sidelines
butterflies and bees
search for sweetness
hidden in the blossoms.

~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>

I'm working on some other scribblings and will post them later!

The little Junco

Hearing a tap-tapping

in the roof garden

I creep to the

window to catch

the tapper in the act.

There he is! The

cheeky Junco

who thinks he owns

my garden!

When I'm working there

he sneaks up behind,

hopping at me

to send me away!

If I look

he stands defiant,

head back

imagined hands on hips!

If his look could kill

I'd be dead and there'd

be no garden!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Bosche

I've seen molesting

men in German

train stations

creeping casually

from left to right,

intersecting my

progress,

hand on my breast -

like lightning

my fingers clasp

the wrist -

Immovable -

implacable

I roar,

"Let's find a cop!"

Frightened eyes,

shrinking flesh,

entreaty

meet my force,

my fury becomes

disgust,

my lips curl,

I hiss,

"Go away, fool!

I am watching you,

touch no one else!"

I let go and

he slinks hastily

into the crowd.

I wonder

did my curse hold.

Does he still

look over his shoulder

and wonder

where I'm hiding.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abuse and shame

The screaming harridan

hurling invective

is disgraceful -

yet her child

feels shame!

The hateful words

bouncing from

the walls,

shrink a child's

heart and psyche,

leaving survival,

but not life.

~~~~~~~~

Trees

I've never met

a tree I didn't like,

given time

I could hug every one,

whistle talk

to the birds

each one houses.

Most of all

I love the madrone,

manzanita,

cedar, birch,

both white and red.

I've swung from

the weeping willow

and climbed the oaks

to clear my head.

I've hidden in

rhododendron,

stolen from lilac,

sought comfort

from many and

been sheltered

by all I met.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Hook

The Hook

Making another cup of coffee for the road and the valley below! Last night at midnight I saw the pattern of my story, with a day and a half left to finish and submit it! I'll just write flat out all day and started editing tonight, polish tomorrow and voila! Feeling free to clatter away at the keyboard is enervating! Like Pegasus I'm rising! It came to me while I was looking at other blogs and was reminded of the things I value most! It's amazing how the brain works in mysterious ways, especially the creative brain! Afterwards you can see the pattern. I was going to describe the process, but my right brain won't let my left brain work at the moment, because it's time to create! Makes you feel shivery!

That's all I have to report for now, as I must get to my story! More soon! Keep writing, keep creating!

Poetry and Prose

Passion

People only love passion when it is exciting, revitalising and inspiring. They like it when it suits them. The moment they feel tired or distracted and don't want to be bothered they condemn the same energy they adored not long before. Suddenly they resent and reject it, condemning its owner for being inappropriate, too demanding or going too far. They will even lie to prove their point. They try desperately to quench that very energy urging them to open up to life, to themselves, to reality.

~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~

Ruby

'Twas a hard scrabble

life for an uncut Ruby,

a girl with nothing,

just strength,

often clopping

slowly down the days,

consumed with shame

at her sadness and

cultivating an

outward dress of

competence,

confidence

and always put

the best foot

forward, even

despite its

leaden weight.

No one knew

she lived

with a bullet

in her heart

and a worm

in her brain.

All they saw was

a will of iron,

a stalwart,

a saviour,

someone to help,

someone to use,

someone to save

them from themselves,

if only they'd let her,

but most preferring

kicking

beating

tricking

cheating,

for they know not

what they do,

nor what they want,

nor how

to get it,

nor if they should.

~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~

Learning Love

She learned to love

from the sweet, warm

ponies at the

stables up the hill.

Joseph the dun,

a wall-eyed menace

who loved to

nip and kick -

Javanah

dapple grey

with her

velvet mouth

and gentle spirit -

patient Josephine,

a shiny bay

who loved children

and never baulked

nor bolted -

Blossette,

with her Arab spirit

and towering courage,

- her favourite -

who jumped like a cat,

taught her to ride

without tack,

won red and blue,

laughed at her,

and loved her

and still has her heart.

~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~

Losing Helen

In some places the black asphalt glistened with little puddles of rain. Occasionally sounds penetrated in a muffled, dampened sort of way. Greyish cumulonimbus clouds wandered in a crowd, hardly any distance above the ground. The car seemed to drive itself and he reflected inanely it was good it was a Rover. He started to think and stopped immediately. He knew he couldn't bear it. He chose to continue cocooned in his dull numbness.

He fought not to remember the way she'd suddenly stepped back, flinging her arms outwards, then slumping forward as if punched in her centre. He fought to return to the earlier memory and the warming moments of relief when the other woman had laid the gun on the ground and he'd smiled to think Helen safe. He'd barely heard the taunts of the man stepping into the Rolls, hardly seen the woman reach for the gun and level it, nor seen Helen step forward into the line of fire, while he was moving towards her, ready to reach his arms around her, enfold her and keep her alive and safe forever.

~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~

Baseball

Why does the pitcher get four throws and the hitter three misses?

~ . ~ . ~ . ~ . ~