modifications
to a failing vacation
~ are not impatience
Little Big Dot
My eyes are tired
Bloodshot
My heart is tired
Little Big Dot
Yesterday was hard
Tempted to slice
But my cat...
I'm running out of spite
Little Big Dot
Picked up a pen
Read a novel again
I am trying
Little Big Dot
My eyes are tired
Bloodshot
My heart is tired
Little Big Dot
Yesterday was hard
Tempted to slice
But my cat...
I'm running out of spite
Little Big Dot
Picked up a pen
Read a novel again
I am trying
That summer of 1969 in Venice still resonates within me...
A Slovak boy, Mario, and an Italian girl, Laura – fourteen and thirteen years old.
She had long chestnut hair and captivating eyes…
We sat on a bank by a bridge in the evening,
while illuminated boats floating on the lagoon.
The song Sotto le stelle, Beneath the Stars, played from a nearby bar.
I listened with amazement to that melodic speech, watching her charming gestures.
I didn't understand a word, yet I felt a blissful warmth in my heart...
Suddenly, heavy rain began to fall; Laura gave me a quick kiss on the cheek
and vanished under the arcade of a weathered building.
Just then, a shooting star fell...
I have carried the imprint of her lips in my heart all my life.
moon-mended water drifts
mist-marked shadows wander
morning-made quiet rises
moss-mapped stones remember
mid-tide murmurs soften
marsh-misted air settles
meadow-mild minutes linger
Two things in life we can't deny
View time of birth or when we die.
So in-between time ticks away
Know what we do will count each day.
Wise men will keep their time well-paced
Arise then fools, their time they'll waste
Our time creates our greatest test
Power each moment, do your best.
She blurted out
Something I always knew
But the fear won
Then grew and grew
...to defend
I saw him take it
Then deny to my face
No self control
Grabbing my place
...to feed
Hate, oh yes, there's hate
Seething in the skin
Soars erupting all over
Telling other's sin
...to bear
Tired and weary
Just trying to feel
A love that wants to know
Nothing but the real
...to be
...just me
Written by Trudy Schrader on 08-13-2026
Beautiful things don’t last.
Think of flowers wilting
in woeful pageant
You’re lounging,
half in shadow
almost out of the sun
your feet, outside shade
look on fire, a photo overexposed.
Your smile is light and brite.
Your skin tanned and tight
as if stretched over
Leonardo’s David, in repose.
You are beautiful
if flawed
your hair is a tangle
your smile akimbo
I think, ‘this is too good,’
in self-aware deflation
as if the moment were both sacred and imperiled.
You brush sand off my face
your hand seems warm, fevered.
I’m as delighted as a child
to be touched
.
.
A song for this:
Constant Craving (Fashionably late remix) [Edit] by k.d. lang & Tracy Young
There, over the top of that garage, Look!
a magenta-colored cloud
against a clear blue background
And see! It’s head’s like a duck’s crown
its bill pointed, orange
And there! The feathered wings on either side
white and layered. They're real!
It’s not moving either. Not even a millimeter
Like when I was a kid. Suspended in time...
Oh, I feel a slight breeze now
And oy, the duck bill is inching forward
Its bill is losing its sharp point
Its neck elongating
O, please don’t go, my duck.
Ah, but you’re going… going
Anybody can have them,
Nobody is immune to them,
It is just easier for the young to give ,
a different name to them.,
As they have not reached a certain age,
Where society has unilaterally decided,
junior is no longer a title that applies to them.
It is only when one becomes not so young,
And start to hide their age from those who no longer
see thirty as young,
That one comes to realize that Senior Moments,
are born with the young.
Penned IN 2025
the proud moment of being mother of the bride
if there ever was a chance to see light again
i would look through gleaming visions
as if they were true
if ever there was life again i would walk that journey as if it was new
if ever there was peace again i would cut the diseased hand of war
if ever there were dreams again, i would mend them into reality from which they could not be tore
in a great and vile moment, we grow
as the hand pulls the string of a bow
as those that will fear
as the wound will be seared
it is in that moment we will know
I pray to the better that I would be molded into my best
I wish for the writer to declare that i have past my test
I wish for the one who paves the roads to lead to wonder and fear
i wish for time to put the love of a day and stretch it into a year
in a great and vile moment, we grow
as the hand pulls the string of a bow
as those that will fear
as the wound will be seared
it is in that moment we will know
in a great and vile moment, we grow
as the hand pulls the string of a bow
as those that will fear
as the wound will be seared
it is in that moment we will know
Love is like the sun, it warms and fills the body with calm.
Love is like the beams of sun, it shines down into the mind.
Love I felt you near, calling me from afar, like all of our moments, you are never far, you walk with me every moment in time.
Love you lifted me to a moment, that made me feel so pleasant.
Love you are my love, no one could ever make me feel better.
Love you are my only love, you make all my days beam with gleam.
Love you are so special, like a holiday that never ends.
Lifting prayers to God, today and always.
Life is a one-time blessing
Every effort made,must be pleasing.
Death is uncertain, it's a mystery
No one can comprehend, not even, in History.
Quit the sorrows,tension and stress
Be composed, never be restless.
To ensure a life worthwhile and long
Enjoy the little moments, get along...
Keep the soul pure and mind free
Hang out with dears and go on a spree.
Be in peace,spread it around
A peaceful crowd is sure to surround.
To ensure a life with no ailment
Possess the features that are salient.
A positive thinking, a graceful lifestyle
Is a life lived worthwhile.
Feel nature's beauty,express gratitude
Be thankful too,for the Bliss of Solitude.
He who outlasts others,being healthy
Is truly, rich and wealthy...
linen drawers breathe quiet years
lemon oil warms walnut grain
fresh bread wafts through quiet rooms~
lavender moments
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