such savagery diminishes upon that street. the wars the horrors the weeping the loss and wasted beauty. with content it shreds with letters not read and lies to their soul. When will the lessons be learned. due, far, far overdue is the renaissance of shadows. these streams of conscious thought, delight, they awake a hunger for more. More than a hundred forgotten faces, and names … Continue reading A Poem – A
I’ve sat here for the last half hour pondering what I wish to write about; heck, I’ve been pondering it for days. Everything inside my head is disjointed. On the bus the other day I got thinking about all the loves of my life. From the short-lived trysts, the long-winded disasters, each have defined a particular time in my life. Maybe that’s it? That THEY … Continue reading Princes & Pirates & Paupers
What is it, exactly, that makes a place charming? What orchestrates those that inhabit these environs of grace. For, tis these idiosyncratic sorts that truly give a place its splendid character. Such as the vignette I came upon yesterday at the end of our (Irish and I) hike along the Thames. As we were strolling down the main thoroughfare, Irish has at this point scrapped … Continue reading Village Sketches: The Divine One And His Servant
The Enkindled Spring by D. H. Lawrence This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green, Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes, Thorn-blossom lifting in wreaths of smoke between Where the wood fumes up and the watery, flickering rushes. I am amazed at this spring, this conflagration Of green fires lit on the soil of the earth, this blaze Of growing, and … Continue reading Poets on Sunday: D.H. Lawrence
Have wondered of late why exactly it was that my little digital Weather Station had been over estimating (under estimating?) the temperature outside. Certainly I knew it was in the shade, but it was WAY off – therefore, instigating me to dress like I’m storming the Sahara at night. Turns out the outdoor base unit fell into the basement window well. Well, of course it’s … Continue reading The Well Of Joy And Fate
I write to you, because you wrote to me. Every year of my life you wrote. Simple stuff, silly stuff, stuff I couldn’t possibly share. Rare, and forgotten…and just for that briefest of moments, you are there. And so I write for you, to you, and maybe a way for you to perhaps write back thru me. I went out today and bought scent and … Continue reading Scent and Flowers
Hockey in Canada is BIG (case ya didn’t know). This week THE HOMESTEAD was all abuzz as my oldest niece on Sunday won Gold at the Women’s Hockey Association Provincials’. Dang, it’s for me beyond words and I’m so incredibly proud. With stick in hand, this young girl defends the line for her team. Watchful, patient and determined, she is a true team player. For … Continue reading Growing Up With A Stick In Her Hand
She is sweet, kind, caring, smart, and forgiving. Some days she is my only friend. She is my confidant, and a mood-altering gift. She is patient and her love is without conditions. She is my world, and I am hers. When I come home, it is her exuberance that greets me at the door. She is my blessing. She will please and please, and be … Continue reading My Irish Blessing
spring day for beginnings, and endings, shall set me free. on the threshold the path this road I travel tis toward the space out of time the breeze the scent of me. how shall I spend you? this day. this glorious day. this day this marvelous day I will indulge in the smell of you. O spring day. Cliché? Touché !! but I do not … Continue reading i have waited so long for thee
part of the WEEKLY PHOTO CHALLENGE Continue reading WEEKLY PHOTO CHALLENGE | THRESHOLD
from ‘THE TESTING-TREE’ In the recurring dream my mother stands in her bridal gown under the burning lilac, with Bernard Shaw and Bertie Russell kissing her hands, the house behind her is in ruins; she is wearing an owl’s face and makes barking noises. Her minatory finger points. I pass through the cardboard doorway askew in the field and peer down a well where an … Continue reading A Bit Of Kunitz
The things that you find when ya ain’t AT ALL looking for them, geesh. My closet door wouldn’t close, and kept creaking and coming open. So I had to take these boxes out, and re-arrange them. In one of the boxes is Tim’s records, notes, receipts etal from that year and some – ephemera from a life of pain and sadness. So I had to … Continue reading Where The Painful Things Go
I really do love my Fluffy Bastard, me lovely Irish, however. Well, lets just say she is like walking a herd of curious Giant Turtles. EVERY single spot, dash, or otherwise VAGUE remnant of all beasts who may pee, must have an inspection. This is IRISH LAW and o’Beautiful Golden One is annoyingly thorough. This inspection could happen at a moments notice. MY cue … … Continue reading Why I Hate Walking My Dog
by PaulaB 