The Marching Fog

Posted: March 26, 2015 in Uncategorized

As I never wander far from home

Beautiful sites present themselves to me

For me alone

Through my window’

Today’s show was spectacular

Enough to make words about it

Tumble and tumble

Until I write them down

Through my window today

I saw the clouds descend

And march across the January snow

One after another

For a moment, I thought the house afire

So thick, these clouds

Yet they smelled not of smoke

But of new spring air

In them I saw

Tattered, brass buttoned soldiers

And mothers and fathers

Marching through my yard

Trying to come back to fight the wars not won

A manifestation of my melancholy

The elements collided

In plain view

Opaque and transparent

Bringing home the lost

Rolling in like silent thunder

As you sat in traffic

Or stirring your pot

I watched

And watched

A show for the ages

Played just for me

From my seat, I wanted to leap

Bare foot and barely clad

Through my window

To dance in the clouds

To glean whatever magic they held

To be healed

To feel alive

Once more

Today, the clouds descended

And marched through my yard

Over January snow

A sight I may never see again

And nothing but these words

To capture what I breathtakingly beheld

For whom else do you know

Did the fog march for today?

March 26, 2015

Coventry, CT



The Comfort Of Cats

Posted: October 19, 2014 in Uncategorized

The Comfort Of Cats By Joanne M. Firth

I saw him through the glass

Sitting patiently

In the chilly afternoon air

Neither anxious or worried

That the glass would keep him out

For too long

I let him him

In a timely way

The cold wrapping around my hand

It’s much warmer inside

He strolled in grateful

And trusting

Checked his dishes

Always fresh and full

A lap and a chew

Was all he needed

He’s lucky that way

He found me where I was

And came beside me

Expressionless and stoic

Knowing he is adored

His body still and awaiting attention

Stroking his soft fur

Scratching under his chin

Rubbing the coolness from his ears

His voice rumbling

Like a finely tuned engine

Finally finding his spot

In the nook of my bent knees

Curled up and lulled to sleep

Sated and satisfied

Life’s simple pleasure

Of which I treasure

With loving importance

The comfort of cats



Joanne M. Firth


October 14, 2014

HTC One Remix Phone Camera

Coventry CT

October Words

Posted: October 13, 2014 in Uncategorized

I joined a new social network thanks to a new friend on Twitter named Shaf. He gave me an invitation. The site is call Ello and it is supposed to be the next big thing. Right now, it is quiet there and so each day I’ve tried to write down some of the words that roll around as I sit and have coffee. Here they are. Thank you Joanne for wanting to read them. Joanne is a very supportive person and has helped given me confidence with sharing my words.

Fingers made of wind~~combed Autumn colored trees~~parting of the ways #Haiku jmf 10/04/2014

Running the distance~~acres and miles to go~~steady and pacing #Haiku jmf 10/05/2014

Today is now covered with darkness jmf #sixwords

Untitled by Joanne M. Firth

No water at the well

Dried up long ago

A bucket hangs

From a threadbare rope

It’s purpose foreclosed


No water at the river

Pebbles and sand remain

A row boat gone aground

Rusty anchor lays in wait

Useless and decaying


No water at the sea

Last tide took it all

So much waste

So much excess

So much greed

Nothing last forever

jmf 10/10/2014

Fog by Joanne M. Firth

Covered in mist

Visible in a ghost-like way

Obscuring the daylight

Curtain filtering noon’s call

Covered in mist

I don’t mind at all


Untitled by Joanne M. Firth

If there were less words to speak

If there were less words to write

Less to choose from to describe

Less to choose from to explain


How many words do we need?

How many words do we want?

Who knows them all?

Who needs them all?


Are there too many ways

To say “I love you”?

Are there too many ways

To say “goodbye”?


If it becomes confusing

And your mind struggles

From unending choices


And stop trying so damn hard.

jmf 10/12/2014

When my outlet needs to be quiet and unseen, I use words. I think them, write them or read them. The storm will eventually pass and no harm will be done. Right or wrong, it is who I have become. Meek. jmf 10/12/2014

Untitled by Joanne M. Firth

Threads, strings, ropes, chords and cables

They can tie you down

They can hold you in

They can tether you safely aloft

So you don’t get too high

They can reel you in

And tangle your feet

They can stay attached

Or be broken

They can be a lifeline

Or cause you to fall

Threads, strings, ropes, chords and cables

It’s all relative


And up to you

To tie and untie

jmf 10/13/2014

375 And Clueless

Posted: August 21, 2014 in Uncategorized

My longtime doctor of 30 years respects the fact that I don’t like to go to the doctor and when I do, it’s usually kicking and screaming and very ill. My doctor takes good care of me and will summons me to make an appearance if he has not seen me for a while. He knows I’m still around because he prescribes most of the medication I take, so my file passes over his desk on occasion. He will usually snag me when I’m refilling something, and his nurse will call to let me know that he needs to see me. We make an appointment. The anxiety hits immediately. I will agonize and dwell on the date and time ahead and the anxiety and worry will not stop until I walk out of his office with the feeling that I dodged yet another bullet. I then realize that those days of fear were for nothing. If there is a phobia that has to do with seeing doctors, I have it and it is full blown.

I don’t want to get into my history with doctors. I would have to write a book for that because I have been in the care of doctors of all kinds since I was 6 months old. I am now 56, that would add up to 55 and a half years being twisted, poked, pulled, x-rayed and every other conceivable manner of handling humanly possible.

What is on my mind now is my most recent exam. I was asked to come in for a check and I complied, despite feelings of annoyance and a general “why won’t he leave me alone” attitude. We had a nice appointment. I had no real complaints, nor was I sick so it was more or less to go over my chronic issues which he prescribes for. He ordered a series of blood tests because it had been a while. A long while. This made me panic immediately. We said our goodbyes and he said that he would see me in six months. I left with the paperwork for the lab, getting more and more panicky. Thinking the absolute worst scenario possible based on the tests he ordered.

The next day I made an excuse for not going to the lab but the following day, after serious feelings of dread and doom, I took myself to the lab and had my blood drawn. I was scared and anxious and grateful for two really cool phlebotomists who made me feel at ease and in good hands. I did tell them firmly that I have terrible veins and that I do not like, no, I HATE being tapped on. Whenever someone trying to find a vein starts tapping and tapping, it makes me want to haul off and punch them. The two nice ladies promised that there would be no tapping.

The girl who was going to get the blood out of my arm was a student. She was careful and hesitant, yet didn’t tap, so I was good. The other woman was giving her instructions on which vein was actually viable and I kind of liked being helpful to someone learning. They agreed on a vein and I was told there was going to be a bruise but that was fine with me. They could have made my entire arm black and blue as long as they didn’t tap on me.

The vein produced just enough blood for the many labeled vials that had been set in wait for my donation. I was relieved to have it over with and left with a taped piece of gauze on my arm. This is when the real panic set in. I called my doctor to let him know that I had gotten my blood work done and that I would be waiting (and waiting) for the results.

Over the course of the next 10 days, I had grown certain that my liver, kidneys and thyroid were all failing and that I would get dire news that I would need all of these organs transplanted. I was certain, since I had put off having blood work done for over 3 years that all Hell had broken loose and I was a goner. These feelings must have something do to with whatever phobia I have because they are ridiculous.

Result day came and my doctor’s nurse called. She told me that my triglycerides were high and my lithium levels were low. My lithium levels are always low, so I didn’t care about that. We spoke about my cholesterol and she gave me a number, 375. That number should be around 110. Panic. I asked her flat out if this was going to kill me right away. And she said no but I do need to diet and exercise to get this number down. I asked her one more time if I was going to die and then I asked how my kidney, liver and thyroid results were and she said those were okay. Exhale. The nurse went on to tell me to try some fish oil and have a nice day and that was that.

I sat for a few minutes after the phone call, trying to take it all in. I didn’t even know that my doctor was going to check my cholesterol, so the fact that it was an issue simply bowed me over. I was going to run out to get a few gallons of fish oil but I took some time to Google it and saw that it might affect the bi-polar illness that I have. I called the nurse back to let her know that I couldn’t take fish oil and she apologized as she didn’t know there was a connection to fish oil and bi-polar illness. Great.

So here I am with this number, 375 and no idea what to do to get it lower. The nurse told me I would have to cut out my beloved carbs and my beloved Little Debbie snack cakes. That was a start but honestly, I wouldn’t know a healthy diet if it had teeth and bit my leg off. So, if you see me out in the world of social media, drinking my Skinny Green Smoothies and talking about my triglycerides, please know that I’m trying really hard to get better and healthier. It feels like having to become a rocket scientist overnight and I’m entering this new world of healthy eating and drinking completely clueless, yet also completely willing to make a change that will hopefully keep my heart pumping for years to come.

Bye bye 375, it is day 5 and I am not feeling so clueless anymore.

I want to extend a thank you to Shadow Teams, Beth Wareham and her new book Skinny Green Smoothies. The book came out the same day I received my test results and it has given me a better understanding of how food can be healthy. What a gift. A gift of health and hope.

Coventry CT


The Painting

Posted: July 23, 2014 in Uncategorized

For Doug

Yesterday, something amazing happened and I think the story is well worth putting into words. So here goes.

I happened to pop over to Twitter just as a friend tweeted a picture of a painting. He wanted very much to find the artist who painted it. It is a beautiful painting, a street scene of Bourbon Street done in a colorful, vibrant, impressionistic style. Very eye catching.

I looked at the picture of the painting and the details my friend tweeted along with it. I gleaned enough information to try and help my friend find the artist. I love to do research on the internet, any kind of research and seeing an opportunity to not only get to do what I love but to help a friend at the same time, I was in!

I started with Google of course. Typing in key words which would narrow down the search. Looking at painting after painting, comparing style, color and content. Going back and forth to the tweeted picture to the ones I was finding. After about an hour, it seemed that the painting in question was nowhere to be found on the web.

For the next three hours or so, I kept going back to the search. I looked at the painting in question again and noticed what looked like initials at the bottom. They were somewhat obscured but I used them as another tool in my search. To no avail.

I was just about ready to give up. Something I don’t like to do. It had been almost 4 hours and my eyes were getting kind of blurry and out of focus. I started to research specific artists rather than looking at anymore paintings. Going to the artist’s web page, trying to match up the technique and signature. I went though about a dozen artists when all of the sudden I found it! I looked at the signature and they looked very similar. The paintings were of the exact same location although they looked a little different.

As soon as I thought I had a match, I tweeted the link of the painting I found to my friend and he instantly tweeted me back that I had indeed found the artist. He then was able to send the artist a message through her Facebook account as he wanted very much to buy another one of her paintings. She answered him back and arranged a meeting. Little did I know that my friend had been searching for this artist for five years. He owns the original painting that I researched but did not know who the artist was. As it turns out, the painting has become the most famous that this particular artist has done to date, with prints being sold everywhere.

Today, my friend told me that he actually told this story to the artist when they spoke, which tickled me to no end. The thought of bringing the two of them together after so long makes me really happy. Today, my friend not only owns one of her beautiful pieces of art, he owns two. So not only did my friend find his artist, the artist sold another painting.

Today, a five year search has ended. An artist made a sale. A friend has a beautiful gift to give his wife for their 20th anniversary. And I have that wonderful feeling of accomplishment, knowing that I was able to help a friend and an a talented artist.

Cheers! To Twitter, to Doug, Adel and A Sparkling Night On Bourbon Street, the painting.


July 23, 2014

Coventry CT

Sparkling Night On Bourbon Street by Elaine Adel Cummins

elaine adel cummins





Why Do I Keep It?

Posted: February 15, 2014 in Uncategorized

I wonder at times

Why I write things down

Like I do


On this blog


It is just a speck

A tiny fleck

A microscopic cell

In a much larger


Of other peoples’



Why do I keep it?

I wonder that


What is the point?

Of writing things down



My answer

Is always the same

I keep it


I love it

And I know that

It has the potential

To reach others

To reach someone

To reach that one person

Who may understand

Why I do

Why I keep it

Why I love it

Why I let your eyes see it


Why do you keep yours?


Coventry CT