Friday, April 29, 2016

The Glory in Grace

"Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of overcoming it."
~Helen Keller

Thursday, April 14, 2016

MIdnight In the Kitchen of Good and Evil

Art by Jacek Yerka
Mind Fields- "Between Heaven and Hell"

Linking with Imaginary Gardens for "In Other Words" posted by Kerry 

The idea of this challenge is to substitute words of our own into the well-known titles of novels or movies.  My title is: Midnight in the Kitchen of Good and Evil....then write a poem to follow it.

Thou shouldst eat to live, not live to eat. ~Cicero

It is midnight and I have opened the fridge in search of something more to eat.
but I don't want an apple or carrots...what I WANT is something SWEET!
Don't make me eat a veggie salad, or low fat turkey on rye.
Let me have a desert with ice cream and apple pie!
I probably am not truly hungry, I just always want more in my gut!
If my stomach was a woman, it would be no lady but an evil slut.
I had breakfast lunch and dinner...heck I even had a snack, 
but I still want something later that is tasty, and full of fat!

I am not a glutton — I am an explorer of food. ~Erma Bombeck

Thursday, March 31, 2016

This Used To Be My Playground....

Linking with Poet's United for the Mid Week Motif~ The Nineties posted by Susan
It may seem shallow, but one of the first things that came to my mind of the 90's was Madonna, so I shall write a poem consisting mainly the titles of her songs.  Wish me luck....and I promise there won't be erotica so papa don't preach! :-)
This used to be my play ground this place so far in the past....and like a prayer I hold on to the memories...for they are frozen in time within the confines of my heart....and when the music plays I'll remember once again how I was crazy for you.... cause you were my lucky star and I was your ray of light in a constant holiday that made me cherish what it feels like to be a girl now I live to tell each secret and all the confessions on a dance floor that those times whispered of that could never be a bedtime story...and I refuse to be sorry for it all was a stepping stone to where I am now like hard candy makes us brush our teeth....the wilds of life lead us to a settling a material girl I never was...but on the borderline I stood so many times where my spirit would take a bow and my heart would jump just to justify my love...vulnerable raw and true was the love we shared...and like a virgin each time we touched was like the first time looking back I know that nothing really matters if it does not hold love at the core.....and what we had was true survived the storms of time no rain nor drought could kill it.... now it is the past but it still proves to be the thief of hearts in my I turn the radio on again and again just to go back to that forbidden love and all the memories it holds....for it will and always be the place I go back to....cause you see this used to be my play ground.

Wednesday, March 23, 2016

Bold Sailor

Linking with Poet's United Midweek Motif ~Climate posted by Susan

The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco. ~Mark Twain

There has been a climate change in the center of my heart.
The polar ice caps are melting because love's light has left a mark.
No longer are there icebergs that could sink the grandest ship.
 Now flows a current that allows a vessel's course to enter in.
 Expansion of the heart is a pilgrimage that must endure a harsher cold.
For the only way to gain a deep love is to be a sailor that is bold.

Saturday, March 5, 2016

Wednesday, January 6, 2016

Those Laser Beams

"A woman can say more in a sigh than a man can say in a sermon."

 ~Arnold Haultain

Gloria Swanson was born March 27, 1899 and passed away April 4, 1983.  She was one of the most prominent stars during the silent film era.

When I think of "silent film", I see  extravagant movement and expression that becomes almost a dance of sorts.  Life and relationships are so much about connecting and communicating.  Sometimes no words are truly needed, and there are times when words unspoken have broken homes.  Silence is like fire and the force of the ocean's wave.  It is both a useful necessity and something that can bring harm to someone within it's path.
Having the wisdom to know when to speak and when to be silent is a hard lesson to learn.  A lesson that can be hard for a writer at times.   This week at Imaginary Gardens the prompt for "The Tuesday Platform" is Silence.  Below is my attempt at just that.

He barges in the house
with mud on his boots
 beer on his breath
and lots on his mind
oblivious to the fact
that she has flour on her hands
a child on her side
and the phone ringing in her ear.
He lost his job today
the 3rd on in 2 years.
He plops at the table
and spills more than his beer.
She turns around
and gives him
the look.
You know
the one.
The glare
that pierces through metal.

Here is another post I have to share about silence just click here to read.