Question of the day:
How did Hemingway write
with all those six toed cats milling about
lying on his tablet
chasing his pencils off the table
spilling his scotch on fresh copy
driving him mad relentlessly demanding attention?
Perhaps their added toes made them more polite
than His Majesty Emil Catt the First.
I lost Julie’s old red with its long, arching canes,
and the big pink I planted just last year.
The miniature blush Jeri gave me when Ruth died
finally gave up the ghost; it’s tiny stems brittle.
I see no life in Moonshadow out front
(but I hear Cat Stevens in my head)…
and the David Austin damask is gone.
Heirloom, Evelyn and Prince are sprouting fresh red growth!
The thorny prairie growth that came up uninvited fifteen years ago
is bristling with new leaves amongst its orange hips, and Hansa, Meidland and another couple scragglers whose with crimsom and fuscia blooms are giving a stretch on the hill.
Oh! and the ever returning carpets are ready to give it a go.
It was two years ago in March that I heard the concern, had the biopsy,
saw the tumors in my breasts looming on a bright screen.
I went blind with white hot RAGE!
Do not psychoanalyze me,
Cut them off!
Five years ago now 4/24/18
I saw an eagle yesterday
high above the road
wingtips curled as he flew against the wind
I almost crashed my car
not wanting to miss the chance
to watch royalty pass by
Emil Catt, howls, yowls, desperate.
AUGH, Catt! Shut Up!
I refuse to get up,
pull up the covers,
bury my ears in the pillows.
He yowls louder, non-stop.
IT’S TOO EARLY!
I throw back the sheets, grump up.
Not under any bed,
Not in the front closet,
Not on the porch,
Not somehow in the fridge,
Not stuck in the basement,
NO where, yet his howling persists.
GAWD! WHERE ARE YOU?
To hell with it.
I brush my teeth,
put on my coffee,
gather clothes from the end of the bed to toss into
THE LINEN CLOSET!
Shut in the linen closet!
Snooped in the hamper.
rJo Herman 4/26/15
Day five slipped by, as most days will…
Hello to the neighbors as I left for work
Spilled my entire cup of coffee down the front of my shirt before I even turned on my computer
Wore my jacket zipped up all day
And took guff for hanging my “laundry” from the coat hook in my cube, tsk,
<shrug> Made for conversation.
Approved seven loans to close for happy buyers, sellers, loan officers and Realtors
Discussed a metes and bounds legal description with anyone who would listen until they agreed.
My Juliana Marie emailed an hilarious reminder of when she was young and rash
My wild child, now the world’s most conservative, hardest working mother…
Home ’bout seven
Hello to the neighbors before closing the door
“Loving this weather, eh?”
Ate something or other
Bed before ten
* * * * *
“Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise”
I have often marveled at how gently Jesus appeared to those He loved
That bright Sunday morning.
He spoke kindly to Mary who sought His body in His empty tomb
“Why are you weeping?”
He did not rush her; gave her time to realize, to see Him
“Mary!” She turned. “Teacher!”
He promised “My peace I give you,” to His apostles shuttered in fear,
Showing them His hands.
He met Thomas at the point of Thomas’s disbelief, knowing he needed proof.
And Thomas did believe.
He walked to Emmaus discussing His death and events with two sad followers,
Until their eyes opened.
Imagine how it freaked them out, how shocking to their psyches, mind blowing,
Jesus dead, then alive.
Imagine now how His wisdom and grace softened the shock, helped them focus
On their true mission.
Believe it or not, something incredible did happen over two thousand years ago
The charge remains unchanged…
Spread His story to whom will listen, heal the sick, love one another,
Share the Word everywhere,
So all who believe it may find their way without fear or despair
For He is alive!
The pre-eclipse moon
blazed my windows
tormented my sleep
forced me up
to marvel wildly
at insane brightness
then drove me
back to sleep
to sweet dreams
I awoke late
to daytime magic
with no shadows
no heavy sadness
only bright sun
sharp cool air
laughs with friends
dinner with Grands
and total satisfaction
The cover cannot be ignored
“Is It Time for the Jews to Leave Europe?” by Jeffrey Goldberg
Cracked concrete Star of David artfully centered in grey on grey
Surely this is an historical piece
Surely not a report on conditions in the twenty-first century
The truth cannot be ignored
The Diaspora is real with horrifying implications foreign to my naïve WASP mind
Jews wherever they are in the world are under scrutiny and torment from bigots
Surely this is merely myth
Surely not a truth about a people living in the twenty-first century
The evidence cannot be ignored
Historical traditions of hate and fear and lies exist despite attempts to progress
Ancient habits conspire to keep an entire people counted, collected, controlled
Surely this is unbelievably wrong
Surely not a possibility with all the brilliance and wisdom available in the twenty-first century
Surely not, Lord.
Cheating with haiku
in order to meet my goal
one poem each day