As You Wish – A Poem and Some Prose

I have lots going on inside my mind right now.   Come Friday night, I will finally have the opportunity to  be a full-time writer.  It’s sort of a good feeling and sort of a scary one, too.  Different parts of me are attempting to communicate.  I probably have to have some sort of dialogue with each of those parts to determine a path.    Maybe something somewhat overly imagined – like this poem – and then toned down a tad or not.  Maybe I’ll begin with a short story from this poem.  I think a short story can be like 1000 words or so.

As You Wish

She told me
she told him

~ you can’t stand the sound of my voice?
You think imma communicate with you by passing notes?
Or maybe you just don’t wanna communicate
with me
at all.
If you can’t stand the sound of my voice
you won’t hear it
cuz I’m not about
to recite any love poems ~

and then we ordered
more coffee and chocolate croissants


Baking Chocolate Chip Cookies & All – Journal Prose and Poem

breakfast-356148_640You’re a much more serious person than I am. I think you’d laugh if you knew I think this way because I seem so serious.

For instance, we decided to make chocolate chip cookies today. A first for us. We almost died to discover that we’d need 2 sticks of butter and so we converted the butter amount to canola oil…healthier fats… 😛

And we debated each batch – like we were aiming for a blue ribbon.

Baking Chocolate Chip Cookies & All

the cookie’s edge is crisp
and brittle
and breaks
when lightly touched
other times
it’s soft
and oozing chocolate
and nuts
melting together
like that summer day
when it seemed so cold
to us


image via pixabay

Just A Rant and A Poem

scrapbook-1373066_640I’m down. Really, really down and whiney feeling. I’m thinking of starting a new blog. I have another blog…the blog where I’m supposed to be putting my fiction extracted from here. I’m trying to decide why I ever considered doing that? Maybe I was in an unusually energetic and positive mood. I don’t keep the other blog up. Instead I mash my whole life together here. Maybe that’s best – maybe not because…

Besides having macular degeneration – which I rarely discuss here – yesterday I was diagnosed with osteoporosis. If I hadn’t broken my wrist/arm part and had a bone density test, I wouldn’t even know. It’s most severe in my lumbar spine…that part of me that has been injured and hurt so many times in my life…my test results had me in tears.

I read internet articles last evening. I blamed myself, really, for having osteoporosis. I smoked half a pack of cigs for years. Lights, of course. Hahaha! Quit those at 60. I drink champagne, though…and when I read about osteoporosis, naturally – for my Catholic Guilt-ridden self -I gave this to myself and, even if I didn’t give it to myself, I deserve it for some reason.

So I’m really down about this…I probably will have to decide about meds for this. I may have to take the drugs I’ve read about that have rare effects. And then I’ll have to say to my primary care doctor, sweet young thing is she, too:

Anger & Blue Moons

Why didn’t you ask me
about who I am
at all?

Why have you smiled
every year
and patted us both on the back?

Why have you told me
how healthy I am
when now
I am not?

I shall trust you
less now
and both of us
will be better for it.


photo via pixabay

Repression – Journal Poem

Poem to story?  Perhaps.  I spend hours over this thought.  I put  the writing of the story, here, on some back burner.

I move through the day.  Stopped up toilet and visit from the plumber.  He ended up to be some warrior one the Bush dynasty sent to war.  I liked him.  He knew something I didn’t know about but wished I did.  We paid for an hour of his time and, once the toilet was unstopped, I directed him to our stuck disposal.  He fixed that, too.

We are at odds.  You suddenly want to discuss, lately, Freud.  FREUD?  So I say to you:

Me:  I don’t care to discuss this any further with you.  If you don’t want to discuss God with me, I don’t care to discuss Freud with you.  Get it?

You:  That’s true.  They’re both somewhat gods, aren’t they?

Me:  Not to me.

And we move into silence.  That is best, I think.  I certainly don’t care to debate Freud with you…at this point.


Once you know
you know.
I mean
how much sense does it take
to know when pictures fade
and reality sets in?


image via pixabay

Had She Been Born A Man – Journal Poem

Our neighbor came over tonight. We’ve been taking her husband to the doctor the past two days cus his blood pressure is 220/112. Sigh. He’s 95. The wife tells us she doesn’t like her husband’s doctor (a female) because she thinks the doctor likes men. WTF?

witchs-house-714994_640Had She Been Born A Man

When our neighbor left
tonight I thought
she reminds me
of what my mother
might have been like
had she been born a man
such a male chauvinist pig
was she.


photo via pixabay

Caring For The Nests We Love – Journal Entry & Poem

junco sparrow eggs***  My husband’s (known as ‘you’ on WP) daughter is having some sort of hip surgery this coming Tuesday.  To correct the shape of the bone…is how she’s explained it.  An odd assortment of caretakers – you included – will stand guard over her on the surgery day & for a week afterwards.

***  My best girlfriend has been diagnosed with breast cancer.  I can’t define the way this has affected so many of us.  She’s on a 6-hour chemo regimen every three weeks for several months.  Then radiation.  Then surgery.  She is Jewish.  The medical team believes – from biopsy -it is an aggressive cancer that some Jewish women can have a gene for.   I will take her for genetic testing and her 2nd chemo treatment this week.

*** We are nest watching again this year!   A beautiful sparrow has built a nest and laid and hatched her eggs in one of our balcony ferns 🙂  All of the eggs are hatched.  The mommy bird is hiding out in our Norfolk Island pine 🙂  She’s such a good mommy, too.  Sometimes, I go to the balcony and coo and whisper to her what a good mommy she is.  Then I quickly retreat.

I am always in awe of what Nature can teach us:

Caring For The Nests We Love

To watch
and care
and bare ourselves
to the unknown
to wait and hope
and love
the moments
to build a nest
holding us all
so close
this day
we pray.


photo via pixabay