Mothers & Daughters

Love each other to their very souls
Argue, fight, cry, and refuse to forgive
Hate springing from love
Defiance of wills
Both want to be the woman of the house
But one must lose
For the other to win
But neither wins
Because they are a part
Of each other

They must come back
Together or it all remains broken
And it can take years
To find the glue that can mend
Those broken pieces back
Into the whole they were always
Meant to be
And those years can be
So lonely
So dark
So sad

And when you’re not looking
You see a part of her
In you
A hand flutter
A shrug of the shoulder
A sudden laugh or gasp
You hear yourself
Say something
And you sound just like
Your mother
Gasp. No, not that
I am me, not her

But later you don’t mind
Not so much
You’re okay with the fact
That you love cooking
Because she taught you
That you love flowers
Because she showed you
That you love to read
Because she bought you books

And just because you’re a grown up woman
Doesn’t mean you don’t need her arms
To hold you
To comfort you
To tell you it’ll be all right
That she was your first person
Your first emissary into the world
That she knew you before you were born
That she grew you in her garden
And when you look at her
It’s with her eyes

Mothers and daughters
Complicated, crazy and yet so easy
So basic, so simple, so real
You’re just a part of her
And now you know
That that is how it is meant to be
That when you look into your own eyes
You look into hers
When you dig into dirt
It’s her hands that help you
And finally, being just like your mother is what you want to be.

 

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom

copyright 2015

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Once Upon a Time – Theme Friday

Once upon a time a thousand hurts clung to me.
My cloak of pain stooped low my shoulders and endured the weight of velvet yards

In a dream of deep-filled space I floated

And the moonlight sparkled my hurts in magnificent refraction
Revealing the beauty of jealousy, confusion, fear, and sorrow.

Exquisite the dream that showed me the breadth and depth of each with such clarity.

So I could know the five senses of each and watch them shimmer to dissipation of particulate light. Scattering to the stars to find a home.

One by one I set them free until the cape was no more and iridescent wings fluttered in emergence. And the stars grew nearer and fluttering wings sounded around me…

I knew again my own heartbeat and heard the silence of my own thoughts.

And.

I was free.

Copyright 2010

Christine’s and Clancy’s once upon a time…

Symbol – Theme Friday

There are no magic signs
or Autumn season
of the mystery of the cross of Christ 
And the queen of the heavens
offers no place for sleeping angels

A human being can
change or transform her life
and with courage and daring
choose between good and evil
Keep inside
jealousy and sorrow
and know the danger signs
that lead to
a life of
sky obscured
that makes a mirage of the soul
that is not safe for strangers
(Do not take this road
bad tempered people live here
)
We have already been (t)here

Wearing the bright prospect of
faith, hope and love
can be the genesis of
Heaven and happiness
Where creativity and
good fortune
is divine power and
the elixir of life
Here, there are friends
and calm
for ordinary angels

Copyright 2010

Christine is being symbolic

What symbolism strikes Clancy?

Rainbow – Theme Friday

theme friday rainbow, writer chick talks

Walking on sunshine, riding a rainbow the tree of my yesterday showed me the way. Dreamy dreams and wild imaginings of heroes and gold passing the days.

Endless blue, benevolent sun freckled my arms and took me away. From petulant parents, squabbling siblings, nosy mcNosies and reality’s sway.

Sing me a rainbow
bathe me in hope
conjure a story
that no one has told
find a venue that offers me cope

Time isn’t ticking
as rainbows ride high
life is a mystery
with clouds passing by

copyright 2010

Where is Christine riding her rainbow?

Fallow – Theme Friday

fallow theme friday

The earth lay fallow
and waiting
rich in its welcome
Loamy and new
The death swept away

Embrace open to sun
thirsting for water
Aching to grow
and birth rich bounty

A maiden who whisper
to stars and
worships the moon

A canvas blank
impatient to erupt in color
and bloom

And I, with seed
and with shovel
oblige the sweet earth
to fulfill its destiny

copyright 2009

themefrilogo 

Christine’s fallow field lies here.

Evyl's Tasteless Poetry: The Guest Post Edition

Sarah’s Blue Ribbon

Sarah looked at her mantle with a sense of pride
But her one misgiving, she couldn’t hide.
Statues aplenty of bronze and silver bold
But alas not a one with the shade of gold.

Every year she entered baked goods in the County Fair
Her cooking had style, taste, and savoir faire.
But something was missing and the win that she sought
Could never somehow seem to be bought.

But this year she smiled with a devilish grin
I have just the ingredient to garnish the win.
So she mixed up a dish, hoping it would be the one
With a lot of love and a good dash of fun.

Sarah gazed at the judges so serious and dour
Hoping that her dish wouldn’t cause their faces to sour.
But next she saw something she hadn’t seen in a while
All of the judges faces beamed with a smile.

The Blue Ribbon was her’s that had eluded her so
The secret ingredient had won don’t you know.
So if you want to get the judges to smile here’s the fix
Just a pinch of the ganja in Grandma’s brownie recipe mix.

Hope y’all like it and take care,
Evyl

One Voice

Hi everybody, hope you’re having a lovely Sunday. The sun is shining and it’s a perfect summer morning out here.

I just wanted to give you a quick heads up. My friend JOS of Shyspeak, has opened a new blog called, Uno Voce (one voice). To my surprise and delight I have discovered he is quite a talented poet. Please go visit him and say hi, read a few of his poems and comment. They are worth the time and are such a perfect read to go with your morning and coffee.

JOS, I’m so jazzed you are doing this. I love your work, you closet poet, you.

Annie

Tourist

I am the ghost at your bedside

hovering closely to hear

your whispers

I am the anchor that tethers

your spirit to this world

giving you plenty of line

though not release.

I am the voice that sounds

in your aching head and lies

to you for your own good

So you will get well.

I am the fretter select

who clucks and tends

a poor substitute

but…a willing one.

I am the city you left for love

but remain a fan of its lights

now returning to you

as a weary and devoted tourist.