My grandmother's hands
knew things mine have forgotten,
how to make bread rise,
how to hem a dress
so it would last.
She saved everything:
buttons in mason jars,
stories in the space
between stirring and serving,
love in the way she said
my name.
This is what we lose
when we move too fast,
the slow art of remembering,
the patient work
of passing things down.
Her kitchen was a kind of church
where recipes were prayers,
and every meal
a small act of keeping
the world together.
Now, I try to learn
what she never had to teach:
how to make something
with my hands,
how to turn memory
into bread,
into words,
into something
that will feed
the ones who come after.
Each story I tell my daughter
is a vote against forgetting,
a way of saying:
this mattered,
we mattered,
you matter too.
“Spring is nature’s way of saying, ‘Let’s party.' ” —Robin Williams
The early sunrise peaks in bright red crimson rays
Nature is delivering Spring gifts in many ways
Fresh Lilac blooms are opened and perfuming the air
As butterflies and bees are keeping busy pollinating there
A gentle breeze sways the one new pink peony bloom
As new buds appear ready to make their floral boom
A hummingbird appears and hovers as he feeds
On fresh flower nectar that helps his energy needs
Chipmunks scatter and chatter about as they play
And try to sneak some bird seeds and flowers away
Blue jays appear and perch to steal fresh squirrel food
And squawk as they appear to bully with their brood
This beautiful spring day is a gift that enlightens the mood
If this tumbling stream be nameless,
I might as well hazard a descriptive guess.
Ripple River might do,
there are none here
to deny my footloose thoughts.
Submerged river rocks guide
a sun guzzling water
through a wooded way.
I'm not good at identifying tree's,
how they shape themselves
means more to me.
How old can a little creek be?
How to measure the ever changing?
If I return to this place by dawn or evening light
the name of this stream might alter yet again,
the way the light swims
renames our memories of it.
I prefer pictorial names
for all those innate features of a place,
the pleasure of naming prospects and vistas
gets to be a sacramental act,
a way of saying:
"Hey, I see you."
The little linger, the wee wee wait-a-while,
says it all wordlessly, unwieldy:
"The momentary pause is pregnant!"
with distinct possibilities of a bow-out clause.
I can see and smell the stench of doubt
as you look away,
breaking our eye-to-eye contact.
That tiny delay is your way of saying it,
without saying it in words.
You, the soothsayer-in-silence bleats:
"The momentary pause is pregnant!"
Listen!
"One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life. The word is love."
Sophocles, Greek Poet
A simple way of saying I love you,
It does not require any words at all.
It is all in the thoughtful things you do.
Those special dates that you always recall.
It is the little things that mean the most.
It is the kind words that lift spirits high.
When you listen, make sure to be engrossed.
Be someone on whom I always rely.
I don’t need thoughtful gifts to warm my heart.
Look into my eyes when you talk to me.
Support me with the things that I impart.
Be proud when I succeed, for all to see.
When I'm hurt, the love within you will pray,
That our dear Lord would take my pain away.
The pale white skies, with a tint of setting sunlight,
Spread across the horizon beyond the hill
Gray bark, tall pines and the oak stood proud
Holding their proof of spectacular seasons passed
Wind blown snow hug the tree trunks like marshmallows
Decorative slopes, frozen in collective time
Winter has a way of saying, everything will be alright
As it leaves behind these calm scenes that resonate
Always showing quiet peace, in drifts after the storms
Heidi Sands
1/18/24
(C)opyright
It's a new year,
Yet the sun still rises east,
It's only the first of January
I’m but a day older from the last year,
Nothings’ changed in the way I’m seen,
Tears still decide to fall by themselves,
I’m still watching from a distance,
The willpower must only get stronger, for the temptation still stays
The plastic smiles are starting to fail me
But hey at least it's a new year
I wish I knew how to play piano,
Just so I can finally let you know
How much I'll always love you so,
But life always has its way of saying no.
I wish I knew how to once again be yours,
But I first have to settle so many scores
With the one who claims I'm the one he most adores,
Even though I secretly love you behind your doors.
I wish I knew how to make you feel
That our love has always been something real,
That our love was something that helped me heal,
That you're the one in my mind's every spiel.
I wish I knew how to show what you mean to me;
In ways that show you how beautiful love can be.
I wish you and I could be in love freely,
But sometimes it feels like we're not meant to be.
Progress is the enemy
it's never what it seems
It hides behind the mask of deceit
Progress always means change
change means money
but it’s always money for someone
who has never had to live with the
changes that progress has left them
Anytime you hear that they’re going
to do a thing in the name of progress
you can bet that it’s just another way of saying
let’s take what’s beautiful, or intricately crafted
and turn it into something sleek
streamlined, cold…and ugly
Without warning progress
will rip the heart from a place
steal its innocence
It will pull the beauty from everything
it touches and leaves in its wake
a crippled, used-up
shell of what it once was
There you were right up there
Front and center stage
I looked at you from where I sat
All senses did engage
My eyes fixed on your movements
My ears locked on your song
Vanilla rosebuds in the air
Embraced and held me long
I tasted of your sweetness
Your voice a voice that calls
It grips my inner being
And echoes through its halls
The jeans you wore were faded
You always wear them well
Thoughts of you persuaded
But to you I won't tell
Lately I've been writing
Lots of different things
Most of them are love songs
Through words is how I sing
They're just my way of saying
The things I want to say
Uno, you know, very much
And it's the only way
Where I can get to give you
Some little petit fours
Tiny bite sized pieces
Of sweets from my heart's stores
And though I sense I'm slowing down
Don't take that to mean
I still won't write them now and then
Because of you I still do dream
Texas Idioms
Miracle Man
8/9/2023
I once had a friend who saw opportunities dwindling,
he was always, “burning his green wood for kindling.”
My polite way of saying that he wasted his time,
he couldn’t “buy a flea a coat if it just cost a dime.”
He was “dumber than dirt with a head like a log,”
When sober he was “handier than hip pockets on a hog.”
He “thought the sun came up just to hear him crow,”
and I thought this man had “a great face for radio.”
He was “as yellow as mustard but without the bite,”
and “if melted down couldn’t be poured into a fight.”
So he wouldn’t be someone I’d ever take to a battle,
In short, this old friend “was all hat and no cattle.”
“he was so narrow minded
he could look through a keyhole with both eyes.”
HAIKU coo ka choo
or Mrs. Robinson writes a poem.
HAIKU coo ka choo
Everything is okay
Count Five Seven Five
by
Martin Braun
August 2, 2023
'Coo coo ka choo' was used in Simon and Garfunkel's 1968 song “Mrs. Robinson". The phrase was used in the 60s and 70s as a way of saying 'all good' or 'everything is okay'.
I wonder if you read them
I hope that you still do
I've tried but I can't seem to stop
Writing odes to you
They're my way of saying
You're so hard to forget
Though I'm not really trying
Nor do I want to yet
I still have so much more to say
I want to make you smile
And to know that I'm still able to
Makes it all worthwhile
I know I'll always love you
Regardless what may be
But do you still think of someday?
Of one day you and me?
There's no need to answer
I might not want to know
Just let me think the answer's yes
To bask in that thought's glow
I still have something for you
I still think you're the one
In terms of horticulture
I'm the plant and you're the sun
Your warmth and brightness grow me
My bloom and blossom stays
Healthy, strong, and vibrant
Bathed by your lovely rays
I lit a candle and began to pray that Monday morning
and a sense of familiarity hit me without a warning
when from back of the church, I heard a distinct voice.
It was one I hadn't heard in decades, but I dare not rejoice
until I knew for sure it was Jordan, a friend from the past.
Had he come home, and this time, would our friendship last?
I was afraid to turn and look, in case I was mistaken,
for when he'd left without a word, I had felt forsaken.
Not in an intimate kind of relationship. It wasn't like that
for us, but he made me laugh when he called me, 'Brat.'
I was 19 when Jordan disappeared, and I feared the worse...
that the mischievous ways of his had been a curse.
My eyes were closed when I felt someone sit beside me.
I didn't need to open them when his leg hit my knee.
It was a game we'd played when one of us was feeling down
and Jordan's smile, his beautiful smile, would erase my frown.
Now, he took my hand in his, and we both knelt to pray.
That was his way of saying, "I'm sorry, Brat. I'm back to stay."
We'd talk later, but now it was enough that he was here.
Jordan reached up and wiped my cheek of a falling tear.
Anna Alpaca is a sight.
with long, long legs and long, long neck.
She’s almost as tall as a kite!
I lean in to give her a peck
and when I am too close she spits
to let me know to go away.
She’s not rude, it’s just how she gets.
It is her way of saying “Nay!”
Showing elegance and true grace
in her chic shabby rose gray coat,
In my heart she has found a place.
I wish she fit in my pink tote!
She could model on a runway,
she’s such a nice little cutie!
If you are good and let her play,
she might be your sweet patootie!
She softly hums among the grass
listening with long pointy ears
for angry threats that might harass.
She sounds alarm if danger nears!
Her curly hair and big brown eyes
are deeply soft and sweet to see.
She should win a special top prize
for being perfectly lovely.
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