Tuesday, May 29, 2007

How to Reach 80

We had braved a roaring winter storm, and there we sat, celebrating an 80th birthday ... no, not mine ... a friend's.

You'll have to read the poem to share in her secret of how to achieve that venerable age ... the Big Eight-OH!

At the time I thought it was funny. I remember joining in the laughter as she revealed the "secret" ... a statement so like her. I didn't think it was very useful advice, really. Just funny.

And now that I've crept a bit closer to that mile marker, I'm thinking, well, maybe ...

The poem:


We ate Cajun food,

savored the singing,

all the memories

of this tiny lady

celebrating and

being celebrated

for her active life

as mother, fellow

worker, confidante,

for bringing us

sunshine on cloudy

days. And we all

leaned forward

to catch every

word as she stood,

she said, to share

her secret: "Just

keep breathing."

© 2001

(originally published in Capper's)


Today's word: celebrating

Wednesday, May 23, 2007


With temperatures threatening to push into the eighties today, I was looking for something a little cooler.

Today's photo came to mind, and, of course, the poem which I had earlier posted with it.

What I said then:

While not literally true that poems "spill off the end of my desk" ... I don't really have a desk ... I have written quite a few. Don't worry, there aren't enough to become an avalanche, or even set one off.

Still, if you were to hear a distant rumbling some evening, you might exercise caution. It could be some of my poems tumbling your way.

I had fun doing this poem. It might have been during one of my "Take Ten" sessions ... when I set the timer for ten minutes, then just start writing, on any subject, or on no subject at all.

Ah, those were the good old days. Even though I seemed busier then ... and probably was ... I still found time for that ten-minute writing exercise almost every day.

But now ...


When I wrote my first poem,

It was really quite a chore,

But I just had to show 'em

I could do one, maybe more.

Now poems spill off the end

Of my desk, across the floor.

If this continues, my friend,

They'll be sliding door-to-door.



(originally published in PKA's Advocate)


Today's word:


Afterthoughts ... in response to your comments:

I'm glad I got your day off to a chuckling start, Magran! And it's good to find someone else who likes to "show 'em." I try to accomplish that in a nice way ... of course ... but there's always the peril of overdoing it, like I did. I keep finding things I've written ... and forgotten about. But that's okay, too ... except for those occasional rumbling paperslides. I think I hear one starting now ...

Oh, be careful what you wish for, Southernmush ... especially an avalanche of poems ... in fact, I think I hear another rumbling, tumbling sound of poems slipping and sliding, bopping and hopping along. Seriously, I'm glad you like the poems ... and your kind and generous comments help to keep me going.

Tuesday, May 8, 2007


I've been having computer problems this morning ... who doesn't, these days? So-o-o ... let's go (fingers crossed, knock on wood) directly to the poem (I hope) ... and I hope you can smell the honeysuckle ... or the petunias ... or maybe even the roses:


The freshness

after summer rain,

honeysuckle wafting,

pie still bubbling,

smoke of a wood fire,

that new-car smell.

In a former time,

our aromatherapy.

© 1996

(originally published in Capper's)


Today's word: honeysuckle