July 10th already??? I have not been idle, oh no. Among other things, I have begun a 4 session collage class with wonderful and talented Sylvia at the ArtBox right here in So Cal. The jumble above is the result of our first session last Wednesday. I am looking forward to the rest of the class.
We have also had some wonderful family events. It feels so good when all of the chickens are present and accounted for. We have confirmation that the grandchild we are all expecting will be a boy. The girl cousins are delighted. And I have had some miserable days of not feeling well sweetened considerably by the attention of my most loving children. How did I get soooo lucky? And the husband, can't forget, takes the most wonderful care of me when I am down.
I also have an update on the results I have enjoyed from my attendance at the Multiple Streams of Income seminar that my darling Katydiddy held here a few weeks ago. Yesterday I taught not one but TWO classes on art journaling. In my past life I was a pretty successful business consultant, trainer and public speaker. But the thought of "teaching" anyone anything about art, well I felt like a real imposter. I kind of got my feet held to the fire in the seminar and made a commitment to teach some classes. These two were volunteer efforts at the recovery agency I have been helping out at for over 20 years, but I will soon have a firm date for a paying gig later in the year. I'll tell 'ya, stay away from Katydiddy if you don't want anything to do with success. Consider yourself warned. If, however, you are like me and willing to take chances, click HERE and jump in.
As I mentioned before, I have been part of a wonderful little writers group that meets twice a month, here at the ranch. Because of this group, I have begun to take my writing more seriously and realize I need to start sharing it more. Over the past few weeks I have been moved to words by some every day things. Here are two resulting poems.
An Inconvenient Death
An Inconvenient DeathI heard the thump
on the porch,
early in the afternoon.
Sure enough,
very still,
on the plump cushions
in the wicker chair
in front of the picture window
lay a tiny form.
I hoped he was just stunned,
but he was dead.
Orange and yellow breast,
black and brown body
white striped wings.
He was young,
still fluffy with patches
of baby feathers.
He’d been flying
free, just learning
to go where he pleased.
It was easy for him,
or maybe it was hard,
but he was alive.
He would have
had his fun this Spring.
Found a nice drab girl bird,
settled down to a nest,
a brood of his own.
Instead, in a blink
of his still open,
shiny eye,
a change of plan
or perhaps
a plan of change.
The endless sky
and inviting branches
that he was headed for
were, of course, a window,
illusions of freedom,
of soaring to that perfect
high perch
from which to watch
the day.
Reality was
the good hard smack,
the black humor,
that brought him down,
dead,
on the comfort
of the casual chair.
I tossed
the fearless fledgling
into the ground cover.
He may be eaten,
the realists feasting
on the corpse
of the dreamer.
Or maybe the lovely little form
will simply lie there
until it decays,
offers itself
as nourishment
to the plants and the poets
who also like to dream,
of recklessly soaring.
lm 7/2009
on the porch,
early in the afternoon.
Sure enough,
very still,
on the plump cushions
in the wicker chair
in front of the picture window
lay a tiny form.
I hoped he was just stunned,
but he was dead.
Orange and yellow breast,
black and brown body
white striped wings.
He was young,
still fluffy with patches
of baby feathers.
He’d been flying
free, just learning
to go where he pleased.
It was easy for him,
or maybe it was hard,
but he was alive.
He would have
had his fun this Spring.
Found a nice drab girl bird,
settled down to a nest,
a brood of his own.
Instead, in a blink
of his still open,
shiny eye,
a change of plan
or perhaps
a plan of change.
The endless sky
and inviting branches
that he was headed for
were, of course, a window,
illusions of freedom,
of soaring to that perfect
high perch
from which to watch
the day.
Reality was
the good hard smack,
the black humor,
that brought him down,
dead,
on the comfort
of the casual chair.
I tossed
the fearless fledgling
into the ground cover.
He may be eaten,
the realists feasting
on the corpse
of the dreamer.
Or maybe the lovely little form
will simply lie there
until it decays,
offers itself
as nourishment
to the plants and the poets
who also like to dream,
of recklessly soaring.
lm 7/2009
Saturday Night at the Buffalo Inn
The band is loud, Guns and Roses loud,
Even here, outdoors at our patio table.
The waitresses are friendly and all have tatoos.
She sits, rubber necking, in her eight year old splendor.
We order buffalo burgers. She asks for Chick-a-loo
and reminds me she is allowed one Dr. Pepper.
We sip iced tea and one Dr. Pepper, and wait for dinner.
No speedy service here, we all loosen up and lighten up.
The lead singer begins to wail an off key Axl Rose.
My heart warms at the sight of her and I can’t resist
stroking her perfect arm as she watches, riveted; listens,
keeping time with her whole body.
“Whoa,Oh,Oh,Oh,
Sweet Child O’ Mine.”
Indeed.
lm 6/2009
Even here, outdoors at our patio table.
The waitresses are friendly and all have tatoos.
She sits, rubber necking, in her eight year old splendor.
We order buffalo burgers. She asks for Chick-a-loo
and reminds me she is allowed one Dr. Pepper.
We sip iced tea and one Dr. Pepper, and wait for dinner.
No speedy service here, we all loosen up and lighten up.
The lead singer begins to wail an off key Axl Rose.
My heart warms at the sight of her and I can’t resist
stroking her perfect arm as she watches, riveted; listens,
keeping time with her whole body.
“Whoa,Oh,Oh,Oh,
Sweet Child O’ Mine.”
Indeed.
lm 6/2009
Sigh, it's been a beautiful Summer so far. Wishing for you that sacred space called "The Moment".
2 comments:
What a nice thing to say about your daughter! I'm thinking she might have learned a thing or two from back when you were a business consultant.
Such a rich posting! I especially like the collage you did at the Art Barn, but then I've been privy to the rest of the goodies. One of the advantages of being your friend!
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