FF55, 6/26/13, Sad but true

A woman drives to Minnesota with her dog  
The hope, the man, the job falls through.
So she comes home.
Only now there is no home, no job,
even family turns her away.
her car need work
Her funds are low.
It is hot, she drives to a lake.
Stays, with her dog, to think...


                                             Where we live there are few shelters.
                                           You would have to go to one of the                                    
                                             larger cities to find one.

Mag 174, Spring

                                                             Stanley Kubrick for Look Magazine, 1949 

20 years later- There was a rag tag scene:

 in the woods by a pond, 

Boat house doors wide open to the night.

Fire outside rather than in.

A keg set on a picnic table

no chairs. 10 or 12 teens hanging out

in the dark, on any given Saturday night.

The bell bottom hip huggers 

with torn and frayed hems

scoop neck Danskin top.

Curly long hair dangling in eyes,

I lit my own Marlboro's-

FF55, 6/21/13. Pleading for Mercy

To have a kind relaxed eye,
an open mind
and willing heart
after struggling
to undo a lifetime of knots.
" I am just so tired"
A black man says,
"The tension and watchfulness
we hold against
the world each day."
He says." Constantly
being questioned on
purpose and intention."
Our presence,
Who are you and why ?


                                         Another interesting essay from July issue of The Sun;
                                       covering a black Professor and writer.
                                       I can so relate to this on a gut level .

Mag 173, Smile

                                                    The Promenade, 1918, by Marc Chagall 

Today we shall walk 

and sway together 

you and I,

Soon we may 

skip and dance 

together you and I;

As time goes on 

My dear-we may even fly together

you and I, we may fly

FF55 6/14/13, Please help me remember!

" Stand up straight-" Chucks me under the chin.
"And speak only when spoken to-"

 I was lucky to get a whiff        
of my Mother's perfume, 
or a quick press of hands
as my parents sailed out the door.

Gone were lullaby's
stories, back rubs before sleep ...

"Don't forget to practice on those you love, today!" 


                                      

Believe it or not
 When you were raised by arms length parents, 
You have to try and remember to reach out 
and touch; even ask for hugs!

Mag 172, When all are gone without

There is a certain click-
of sneakiness
The-Oh-so-slow
and careful turning of a latch
When you are young
and want to know!

What is on the bed,
or in the desk-
I loved to tiptoe
over creaky farm house floors,
(these were grey in uptairs halls)
and walk the certain edge of steps

to attic rooms
in breathless heat;
to kneel and peer beneath
the fringe of iron bedstead
then held my breath

as painted candy box
was lifted so as not to scrape
 carefully both thumbs
 pried up the lid
 to view treasures
 laid within bright walls of gold

FF55, I never cut flowers,

Yet maybe they will forgive
 me for my selfishness-

From subtle folds of bounty's reach
my peony's are blessing me

with a scent so rich
It glides as far

as roses can on butcher block,

from yellow kitchen to the dining
room they clasp their hands

and seal my mood
into velvet peace and gratitude