How Would You Feel If This Happened To You?

I get confused sometimes about my feelings. They get hurt a lot. Instead of getting angry, I hold it all in until times like this when I have to let it out. So, I’m using a hypothetical situation to gain some insight on how this might feel to other people.

How would you feel?

If you cooked something for 3 hours and waited for two people to come home to eat it,  just for them to tell you that they stopped at McDonalds. And….they knew you were cooking.

Just curious about how other people might feel if this hypothetical situation may arise.

Thank you.

May 18, 2012

Coventry CT

 

 

 

Captivated

I am completely captivated by this picture.  It speaks so clearly to me of motherly love, care and protection. The eye of the Queen half opened. The claws stretched and the arm swagged around the kitten. A mother animal needs to use every part of her body to care for her young. It is one of the most beautiful displays on earth.

Coventry CT

May 14, 2012

You Can Be (For a very special someone, whom I adore)

You can be

The sun

And want to be

The moon

That’s okay with me

*****

You can be

A ruby ring

And rather be

A diamond necklace

That’s just fine with me

*****

You can be

The stripes on the American flag

And decide

You would like to be

The stars

That’s  just peachy with me

*****

You can be

A hot air balloon

Soaring high

Fueled by flames

Shouting

To the world

“Look at me!”

*****

Or maybe

What you really desire

With a burning heart

And thoughtful conviction

Regardless the obstacles

Naysayers

Or the work to be done

Or anything

Or anyone

That may stand in your way

Maybe, just maybe

You want to be

Who you really are

******

Let the confusion rest now

Let the thoughts settle and calm

Let the secrets turn themselves into loving and understanding embraces

Let not another second go by

Without reaching

And wanting

And striving

*****

You have been

Who everyone wanted you to be

You excelled

And accepted nothing less than your very best

Brilliant

Those things will never change

Now the time has come

For you

And who you are

Who you choose to be

Who you know you are

The exact right fit

You are Hope!

Beautiful

Gleaming

Glowing

Amazing and powerful

Hope

And that my dear one

Is simply A-Okay with me

*****

You have my love, support, compassion, understanding and whatever else you ever need for ever. I love you.

*****

May 12, 2012

Coventry CT

I love you

A Mother’s Protection

This photograph is very powerful to me and I glean a great deal of pride and strength when I look at it. Enjoy.

 

 

The Rake

A quiet tool

Unlike its noisy counterparts

How the neighbors

Love to break out their

Noisy machines

To manicure

Their pristine lives

To eradicate

All the debris

Collected since the last time

The grasses grew

******

Simply engineered

Of wood and steel

The handle makes way

To the working end

The teeth

To scratch at the earth

Biting deep into the soil

So much hunger

Ravenous

*****

So I have mated with

With this silent marvel

And have chosen it

To be my companion

The obliging thing

Could care less

If it leans against the lamppost

Or if it toils all the day long

Unearthing wild violets

Ferns and rich brown dirt

Fertile and emerging

It dances gracefully

Along with me

As I stumble

It holds me steady

And when I am ready to let go

It doesn’t look back

*****

We’ve traveled

Great distances

Mountains made of  everything

In it’s path

Heaping piles of leaves

Sticks and anything else

That fate has selected

That rage has been aimed at

All the neglect and apathy

That winter brings

The rake has the power

Once within my calloused hands

To reclaim what was mine

To begin with

******

At the end

Of the day

It leans

Quietly

Unbroken

By miles and miles

A million, I think

I feel

And I lean now

Hard

On whatever I can find

To hold me

And I have screamed

A million times

For a million reasons

And underneath

All of that

The wild violets grow

Gracious enough to pretend

They didn’t hear my screams

Thankful

For they were suffocating

They were obscured

All the beauty they have to offer

Would never have been found

I accept their gratitude

And humble myself

For low and behold

Underneath so much ugliness

Underneath so much neglect

Underneath so much pain

The wild violets

Show me

That I am not living in vain

And the value I hold

If nothing else

Is to know

Where to find

What I’m looking for

*****

The rake

Will lean

Until

I join it

Again

And I will

Because I will never be done

Looking

Searching

Seeking

Taming

And caring enough

To find

The

The wild violets

That grow

Within  me

*****

April 30, 2012

Coventry CT

A Day

I wrote this little poem a few years ago. I replay it in my head at times, when things start to feel as though everything I have to do is under duress.  It is a comfort to me. It reminds me that there are all different kinds of days in my life. The ones that drag on endlessly and relentlessly. The ones that pass much too quickly because everything is just right. And the ones like today, that make me hope tomorrow is going to be better.

**********************

A day is like a thousand years

A day is like a minute

A day is like a lifetime

Every day you’re in it

April 2006

Manchester CT

The Story Of The Little Shack

The keys will be changing hands soon, again. As they do, I’ve been thinking about my days in the little shack. It’s a rental house now, but it used to be mine, ours. Before Vincent, before a second marriage, before I started to rebuild my life after losing everything, including my dream house in a divorce.

My now husband and I were biding our time, knowing we had to find a place to live. I was losing the house of my first marriage. There was no saving it, a devastating blow. He, my first husband, walked away scott free and left behind something too big for me to manage. What was once the American dream, was now the American tragedy. Foreclosure was imminent.

Out of desperation, I called our local real estate agent. I liked Tom, he knew about the town and all the little places in it. I was hoping he would help find one for us, to start all over in.

It was pouring rain that day. Tom gave me an address and I drove over to take a look. The little shack was a sight for sore eyes. I immediately fell in love with it, regardless of the fact that it was on the slate to be condemned. The private neighborhood, the waterfall at the entrance and the little beach were amenities too great to be true. The little shack  was going to be our new home.

I drove madly to the firehouse and collected my not then husband. Chattering on and on about the great little place. I was brimming with enthusiasm and relief, that we would not end up homeless. This was it! My blinders were on, and all I could see was hope that we would have a chance to be in a home again. You see, my husband lost everything is his divorce too. We didn’t have a pot to piss in, but we were in love and all we wanted was an opportunity to have something from the ashes of nothing.

The shack was a wreck. Everything that could be wrong with a house was wrong. From the roof to the drafty old windows. It was dreary and depressing. Someone had stopped loving this little place and let it go. It had become an eyesore in the neighborhood and was going to be condemned. That is until I found it and made up my mind that we would love it and fix it up and be very happy there. Walking into the living room area, I heard a crash and a groan, my man fell through the floor! He pulled himself out, looked down into the hole and said, “well, we’re going to have to fix that”. I knew right then, that we were home.

During our time there, we did a lot of renovating. I started working full-time and became pregnant with Vincent. Then we got married. I figured, since I had done everything differently the first time, marriage, house, children, that it might be luckier to do it all backwards the second time, house, kid, marriage. And it was lucky and so wonderful. We fixed up the attic into a bedroom loft for the 3 other kids we had from our previous marriages, a little nursery for Vincent and we were as cozy as six bugs in a rug.

Some evenings, I would pull into the driveway after a day at work, and there was my husband with the paddle boat, Vincent strapped in and a picnic basket. We would have our dinner on the lake and then go fishing. It was paradise. One night, we had my mom over for dinner, our table was in the living room, in front of a big double window. We had a lovely meal, my husband drove my mom home, came back to join me on the couch to relax and watch some TV. CRASH! The ceiling directly above the table we just dined at with my dear mother, caved in! We sat on the couch as we watched water, debris and a lot of acorns cascade down like a clumsy waterfall. When it finally stopped, we looked at each other and laughed. I think my husband said, “well, I’m going to have to fix that”.

Tomorrow, the keys to the little shack will be in the hands of my eldest son, Chris. I doubt if he will fall through floor, or have the ceiling come down on him, but it will need some work. Cosmetic stuff mostly, it’s a sturdy little place now. The roof is good, the windows are new and it has a deck and a paved driveway. Not even close to being condemned. We kept the little shack, after we moved out, 14 years ago, to a little bigger shack. We have been renting it out to people who need a break, down on their luck,  who need a place to live, just like we did. We were able to rebuild our lives because of that little place. From something, to nothing, to something again. It was a lot of hard work, but in the end, instead of a vacant lot, where there used to be shack, the shack still stands. A place to hang your hat and lay your head down at the end of a day. A place filled with memories of love and laughter.

I can only hope, for my son, that he can have the luck and the love that we had during out time, in the little shack.

Fire

This is a little poem paying tribute to one of my favorite past times. Building and sitting in front of an open fire. My father taught me well. He taught me to be careful, respectful and most of all to relax and enjoy the beauty and magnificence of fire. This one’s for you dad.

It begins with hunting

And gathering

And anticipation

A need to be met

A labor of love

*****

Small twigs

And burnable things

Given up by the landscape

The waste

The materials which usefulness

Has expired

The shreds of the trees

All will be given

A respectful and dignified

Farewell

******

Branches

Burried beneath

Many Falls

Of dampened leaves

Armfulls

Of what the wind and weather

Brought down

My found treasures

To heap and feed

The flames

******

The ritual

The building

The architecture

That will assure

A sturdy foundation

Conducive to a spark

Igniting into a blaze

To keep me warm

Within the invisible

Parameters of its intensity

******

It is with gratitude

And most humble appreciation

I strike the match

To my bounty

Paying my respects

To what nature has provided

So that I may enjoy

And be renewed

And revived

By the beauty

And grace

Of the eruptive dance

Of combustion

******

Relaxed, I sit

Mezmerized

Fascinated

Mind uncluttered

To make room

For the melding

The reuniting

With a dear

Old friend

One who has kept me company

On many a chilly night

One who has kept me occupied

With its insatiable hunger

One who endlessly entertains me

With a bold miriad of color and light

And one who captures

My vivid imagination

And craving

To tame the wild

To control

What could very well

Become out of control

If not in such careful and

Loving hands

Fire

February 24, 2012

Coventry CT

The Last Time

This poem was written because sometimes, love stories end before they are finished. To my husband.

Unleashed and reckless

Inhibitions dwindled

Today was for us

Our tomorrows had been swindled

*****

The clock was ticking

No rules to abide

The unwelcome visitor

Like a time bomb inside

******

We knew the danger

We knew the score

What lied close ahead

Behind the barricaded door

*****

Once he went under

To be rid of the thief

We knew not the outcome

Nor endless, subsequent grief

*****

We held on forever

Because that’s how we were

Our passions in sync

Our devotion so pure

******

To soon it had ended

The tears, how they rolled

The release had to last

Until all had been told

******

It is now just a memory

To be captured in rhyme

To be noted and filed

And labeled

The Last Time

******

February 14, 2012

Valentines Day

Coventry CT

The Edge Of My Dreams

Disjointed scenarios

Crashing  waves

Falling asunder

Until wakefulness saves

********

Eyes barely open

My brain still afar

Trying to capture

While the dream is ajar

*****

Surrounded by people

Some whom I know

Some who have passed

A long time ago

********

At times reoccurring

Places I’ve been

A maze of rooms

I”m afraid to go in

*********

Scattered old lovers

Rekindling vows

Always beholden

To what life disallows

******

At that delicate moment

Of the night’s escapade

My eyes start to open

Adventures then fade

********

Leaving me in wonder

And the utmost suspense

I try to hang on to

What is now all past tense

*********

So there I lie

A vague memory

On the edge of my dreams

On the edge of me

January 24, 2012

Coventry CT

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