I Saw (c)

Her today,

Red dress on,

popping her gum.

I knew it was her 

before I could see her.

I could sense evil.

"Baby,"

she called the clerk 

at the desk.

I looked at the stoney face,

and unsmiling face,

she's a disgrace.

I made my exit.

Hard to believe she had been a teacher.

No one could reach her

before she drove off her staff,

Leaving a trail of

lies and deception in her 

wake.

I just couldn't take

even being

in the same room

with her.
As Cole Porter said,
it's an ace in the hole --
"when the devil in slacks
breaks down your self control."

"First Fiddle, Then Fight"

"First fiddle, then fight,"

but don't forget to pray first.

"The Buzzing of Summer Lawns" (c)

Cicadas hum

Their good night calls.

Night falls

Again on the sleepy town.

Then morning comes,

And young men in their fast trucks

Roar down my street,

To the factory.

Or QVC,

Or Sarah Lee,

Or parts unknown.

To summer lawns

Where machines converge--

blowers

and mowers

 stir up the grass.

Beer cans stay put

as young men

drive away in 

their fast trucks.

They screech their tires

and toss their cigs.

Why, we wonder?
As whirling
sprinklers hiss
their disapproval.

No One (c)

No one

can love you

better than you do.

No one

can heal you

better than God can.

No one.

Betrayal

Stings,

Hurts,

Haunts,

Rips through you

Like a chard of glass,

Leaving you reeling,

And wondering how you can go on.

But, you will go on,

And on,
and on....

Moving On

Going outside my comfort zone,

Seems the logical thing to do now.

I see what's out there,

In Raleigh and beyond,

To draw me in, to test, and inspire.

   

Hope

I saw a newborn bird today,

on this, the 8th of March.

Is this a sign of 

good things to come,

New life, new friends, new plans?

 

For hope is eternal,

It does not fade,

Or dim our daily trials.

Hope keeps us going,

United and strong,

Though the journey is miles and miles.

 

With heads held high,

And thoughts good and pure, 

There is nothing we cannot change.

Staying focused and positive,

We cannot fail,

And goodness will always reign.       

The House on Second Street (c)

The house on Second Street,

A product of the Gilded Age.

Marbled bathrooms,

Gas lights,

Brocaded curtains,

And porcelain in the parlor.

Waterford crystal,

Oriental rugs,

Tiffany lamps,

Add a servant or two, 

 Serving cocktails at 5.

Mysterious rooms,

Each painted a different color,

green, blue.

Imposing, dark.

Along came two young children,

One a toddler,

The other five,

Who laughed and teased,

And toured the downstairs

on a trike and a

wagon.

Laughter and innocence

 Echoed off those walls,

Then the two,

Husband and wife,

Separated,

Each to his own room.

Now everyone had their

Own big room,

Containing secrets,

No more, no more.

Like smoke,

those memories have faded

into their proper hue,
of gentle green and blue.

We can breathe now--

Well loved and

Protected
And secure.

The House Where I Grew Up (c)

Childhood

Memories come

To haunt and arrest me

Creating unpleasant feelings,

Like a cold, harsh wind

That blows in the night. 

A child

Needs protection and love.

The shouting and the

fading affection

between my parents,

cut like a knife.

I remember things

I shouldn't have heard.

I release them now.

I cast them aside,

Realizing that memory is an

opportunity to understand,

and accept.

No one is to blame.

There is nothing to fear.

Our memories are but

a springboard to action.

Notes On An Extraordinary Day

Making the ordinary

seem extraordinary,

I notice how the light

comes in through the lace curtains

in my bedroom.

How the Eastern Red Cedar

trees pop

in the morning sun,

and how my body feels 

as it glides to the

music of Mozart.

A Mozart morning,

what could be more wonderful,

besides memories of

Paris

and Thou.

Haiku 1 (c)

My little cat is napping

In a circle of sunlight

Chasing her dreams.

Tangier Island Poem, July 15, 2012

The salt spray on my face,

Chatting with Mark Crockett, the boat captain,

The roar of the Joyce Marie,

The American flag waving in the breeze,

This big crabbing vessel,

(now in business ferrying passengers from Onancock to Tangier)

Choppy waters,

Staying dry,

The sailboats in the distance,

Holding on,

Richard the waterman who took me to the beach,

The long stretch of sandy beach,

The Kansas family that gave me a lift in their golf cart,

Fern Tyler, a Tangier native who took my photo on the beach,

Sand in my shoes,

No cell phone access,

Soft shell crabs at Lorraine's,

Friendly people,

Enduring friendships,

The wind to cool me,

The wind to calm me,

A safe trip back to shore.

"Pink Slip" (c)

Twelve years ago, it happened

in that office by the door.

The end of a four year battle.

My little civil war--

"The decision was made to..."

My mind freezes at the word.

What now--

The end of misery and abuse--

The beginning of what?

Searching, 

Pain,

Suffering,

Closed doors,

More that open--

to the Library of Congress,

Chapel Hill,

the mountains,

the sea,

UNC,

Paris,

Normandy,

Hemingway's hang-out,

My first camping trip in a long time,

Durham,

the Nasher,

writers and poets,

DPAC 

and Boston

and back here.

Where is here?

To gratitude

for where I am now,

and for not being where

 I was then.

I've given the pink slip

to that person,

and that time,

and love 

my prayer

for grace and

forgiveness.