FF55, 7/27/12 Part 2, Suspended Alongside.

For the two men, then I
these links may as well be chains.
Yet his smile was so wide
and his hair so curly;          
The fine memories
spring up among his photographs 
mostly black and white
Clouds surrounded in echos
of his laughter;
and my Shepard running full tilt
captured airborne behind the pond.



    One of my favorite bloggers- and there are a few! - made a suggestion that I
give myself an opportunity to continue with last weeks story. I just finished reading
a piece in The Sun, Magazine - about the disappearance of a person
who is dear and close to us...

Toads, 35: Turn The Key To Start My World

Sun shines with aqua
on flowers and trees, outdoors. 
 spacious home
with art on walls          
 books on shelves,      
food on plates.
Husband, friends
and animals grace each day ;
with prayer,laughter
work and play !                      

 This started late with Mama Zen- and then somehow linked up with Theme Thursday- thanks to Brian landing here! anyway it is fun-

Mag 127, 7/22/12, No Pause

                                                           Figure Eight, 1952, by Franz Kline
     
                                                  The instructor gave us  8 seconds.
                                               " This is all about gestures and important elements."
                                               I thought about recent events in my life.
                                               " Ready? you can look around and capture
                                              someone or something here- or pull an image
                                               from life.  Set?        -GO!"
                                               I don't know why I chose black, But I pushed
                                               the thick brush down, slurped it out of the pot.
                                               Then my dark haired brother appeared
                                               in his tux, standing hands clasped in front of
                                               the pine and spruce; in my parents side yard.

FF55, 7/20/12 The Minds Eye

Did you hear
some deep and distant thunder     
as a tolling of a heavy bell       

that caught the core of you
when news came on the radio.
The mind became a cinema       

seeing a hiker with a round brimmed
hat and back pack;                    
Is death going one town over
from the small planes, woody crash site ?



    This piece is only a tiny part fiction and a long time forming.
It could be called a friends passing, but it is more complex...
This, minus a few details is an unfinished writing of 15 years ago.
It still requires some plumping 55 would not allow...

Mag 126, 7/15/12, Sunday Morning

                                                                    
                                                                                         artwork by Jack Vettriano


A dreadful night, just dreadful-
She felt like a teen age Cinderella-gone-wrong.

Her sigh shuddered.
Her cigarette was out
She had quit months ago anyway...

She turned from the window
Time to go down stairs and check on Ethan.

She stepped back into her heels
and tottered toward the mirror.

Oh my- the left eye was turning a nasty color;
Ice would be good- meanwhile,
She reached into her little purse

A comb came away
and she ran it absently through
the lock that had tumbled out

Managed to free a pin
and tuck it up with the rest.

Oh Mary- I am so sorry-


She bit her lip and reached for the door
Will my sister ever find it in her heart 
to forgive me ?

FF55 7/13/12 News Flash

A Sighting!  Lincoln's alter ego-or his ghost?

Seen somewhere between

the sunset and the light...I swear

he spent only a few thin,shadowy moments

at the Memorial in DC, rubbing his chin

" Did they need to sculpt me so large?"

They got most of the details right-

" Where in town is a good library?"

Mag 125 7/8/12 Harkening Back.

                                                      Chilmark Hay, 1951 by Thomas Hart Benton

                                          Monte Sen stood in front of the painting, leaning hard
                              with both hands on his cane. His grandson looked up into his face
                              " What are you thinking about Gran pa ?"
                                         Monte Sen looked down over his half glasses, "Just
                             remembering a risk I took as a young man; on unclaimed freight."
                                         He could tell by the youngsters eager expression
                             that he wanted to hear more.
                                        " Once long ago- 1917 or so,"  I was working the docks
                            He pointed a finger over the boys shoulder, " Four wooden crates
                           sat for days- and we had to work around them." He shook his head.
                            "After a certain time I went and made an offer on them; Mr. Franks
                            gave the OK."
                                       " What was in them ?" His grandson burst out.
                                       Monte Sen smiled. "After carting them two streets over,
                           into the alley behind the apartment your Grand mother and I
                           lived in at the time- it was getting dark." 
                                       His Grandson eyes were wide.
                                    " Your Grand mother was not pleased with me for spending
                          money we didn't have. -Speculating - I think she called it."
                                       "What's that mean ?"
                                      " Gambling- a sin to some."
                            His grandson's jaw dropped.
                                     " She made me sleep outside and guard them."
                                     The boy covered his mouth to keep from laughing.
                           " The next day I finally opened them-. A painting, similar to this
                          one, was carefully wrapped and set on top of the smallest box."
                                     " Where is it Gran pa ?"
                                     " It hung in our shop for many years, behind the register.
                           Then one day a lady came in with the same last name as the artist.
                           I did not feel right refusing her- It probably was her Father's crate.
                                      The boy's eyebrows couldn't have gone any higher." Was he
                            famous ?"
                                      "No," Monty Sen. smiled. " It was from their homeland, a
                           comforting piece of family memorabilia."

                           
                                            

Mag 124, July 1st. True Avoidence

                                                               Ophelia by Odilion Redon

                                                  " No"  I said to my to my brother.
                                                  " Please don't" I said to my friends
                                                        " Oh dear- alright- wait a minute!"
                                                   I said to my honey.
                                                   I buried my face in a beautiful bouquet of flowers
                                                  "Alright, you can take my picture now!"