Tag Archives: relationships

BLOSSOM

BLOSSOMS IN HER HAIR

She wore a blossom in her hair,

A symbol of her love,

Telling me without words

That she was always there

And in the mood for love.

Each blossom represented

Her passion and to what degree,

From white to deep red,

Clues easy for me to see.

Just one quick glance

Gave me a chance,

To compose myself.

If loving her was a crime,

I always needed more time

To calm down and think of romance.

I’m sure others knew her intent.

When the blossom was crimson

And the air was full of love’s scent

We went out in the evenings,

Her complete flavor and taste,

Mine to enjoy fully without waste.

I’ll always remember how our love

Grew stronger each time we met,

Inspired by blossoms I could never forget,

Color coded for the rest of my life.

Color coded by my lover, my sweetheart, my wife.

June 17, 2017

 

 

 

 

 

TOO MUCH

TOO MUCH

 

She was too tall. I was too short.

She was too rich. I was too poor.

She was too thin. I was too fat.

She was too old. I was too young.

She was too hot. I was too cold.

I loved her too much.  She loved me more.

She listened to others. I didn’t listen at all at first.

Together we loved passionately and filled our days with laughter.

Our love had no boundaries until we listened too much.

Our friends said we needed each other too much.

They said we should stay away and give each other time to grow and love others.

 I think our friends were wrong.

Now I have too much time and too much unfulfilled love.

How can I hurt so much and feel so empty?

I want to be with her again with less friends.

They had too much time and not enough love to fill their own lives.

Maybe I want too much love, but I am ready to give

Too much love forever.

 

6/15/17

COLLABORATION

(MEDICAL version)

So many people with numerous degrees,
Acknowledgements, honors and pedigrees,
Each contributing with all they do,
Unselfish and willing, just like you.
Climbing and wending their way to the top,
Gaining a life-long education that will never stop.
Research rewarded by new found cures,
Insatiable curiosity that will always endure.
All are determined to become the very best
At their own specialties, beyond the rest.
They work as teams though miles apart,
Connected by love, working heart to heart.
Not at the expense of others they’ve joined along the way,
Instead, locking arms and reaching above yesterday.
In unison they march, pushing barriers aside,
Creating new tomorrows, prejudices denied.
The future promises more to those that share,
Their resources combined offer superior care.
United they stand in all that they do,
Unselfish and willing, just like you.
Not just for the moment but for always,
Providing patients with longer and better days.
Many qualified specialists linked by their expertise,
Means patients are the winners in conquering disease.

May 13, 2017

ROOTS

Everyday I think about where I’ve been, where I am, and where I am going. Not quite in those terms, but terms that have real meaning to me. Where did my ancestors come from and what shaped their dreams and thoughts?
Were they farmers, mud oozing between their toes, growing floating gardens and crops that seemed to magically appear? Or did they gather seeds and store them in wicker baskets, saving them for harsh winters?
My roots may be from peaceful people who were driven from their lands and were forced to forage and discover new lands. Yet, in spite of what I have imagined or dreamed, my roots may lie deeper in the soil, connected to spilled blood.
A tribe or two, struggling to find their place in the sun, are in my dreams. These people are somewhere in my story, connected to the earth, buried deep and twisted.
Others may be branches,loftier groups that seek perfection. These branches deceive themselves and others. All are tied to the sky and to the darker days when seeds were planted.
I am connected to my past and I fight against myself at times, trying to pull out my own roots, trying to connect branches to the sky. But try as I might, I cannot separate the two. I am my past, present, and my future.

May 6,2017

HARMONY

Harmony

I used to live in Harmony,
Located just a little ways off the road
In a tiny place in the great southwest.
Living in Harmony was not for all,
Unless you count the ones who couldn’t sing,
Or for those who closed their eyes
And ignored the cruel world
And claimed it was for the best.
Harmony was divided up in several parts,
To keep our voices from going wrong,
And we would, of course, often sound hoarse
When we got lost and a little off key.
Yet we knew a song was within our hearts,
And our town was the perfect place to be.
Living in perfect harmony
Required commitment, love, and laughter
But we did our best
To keep our town growing strong.
But it finally dwindled away.
A ghost town without a song.
If you should look for a peaceful place,
Hidden by the sands of time.
Sing to the wind the coyote’s songs,
He knows which ones are mine.
Others will join and sing to the moon,
Blending notes that have to be.
The coyotes songs will all be good
As we sing in harmony.
May 3, 2017

FRY

FRY

Early in the morning before all the stores were open, two men arrived in a nondescript gray sedan. They had looked the small town over, debated on several escape routes, and finally decided they would leave on the same street they came in. It could have been any other street but their choice was probably the best because the other streets were not as clean.
“Odd way of thinking about a getaway street but there had to be some criteria for picking an escape route.” I remember telling the sheriff that after the ill-fated episode. We were just sitting on the porch, after the robbery, playing lawyer, trying to come up with reasonable explanations why someone would rob a café when there was a bank right next door. It still doesn’t make sense.
Anyway, these two men sauntered into the café, sniffed the air, and plunked down on a couple of swivel chairs. “It’s gonna be a hot one today,” the short man said. “I bet you could fry an egg on the sidewalk.”
One of the waitresses, Rebecca, was busy wrapping the silverware so she almost missed the expression on the stranger’s face when Ruth said, “Bobby, don’t bother using the skillets or frying pans today. This man says he wants his egg cooked on the sidewalk so it can get more flavor.”
“Now, honey, I didn’t say that. you’re stretching the truth and making me mad. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I just want an ordinary breakfast so we can be back on the road.”
“Where you all heading? You don’t want to be on the road after ten. And make sure you put on plenty of sunscreen. You’ll fry if you’re in the sun too long.”
The short man said, “We’ll take our chances. Now give us each a breakfast and be quick about it. We’ve got to be in El Paso before noon. And,” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small gun. “I want all of you to finance the adventure.” He looked around the room. “Put all your money in this bag. George will be coming around to collect.”
“As soon as I fry these hash browns and flip the eggs, I’ll be right with you,” Rebecca called out. “We’re short-handed right now. The other waitress went home sick and Floyd, the cook, is out getting supplies. I can’t tell you when the cash drawer will open. It’s on a timer. The cash was counted this morning and delivered to the bank. You might as well put your gun away and have a cup of coffee. You’ll feel much better if you get your blood circulating. Last week, Bill was feeling poorly and got real cranky. He didn’t settle down until he had coffee and some apple crisp. Did I tell you Sally Mae is the best pie maker in Succotash County? She fries the apples before mixing them with the other ingredients. She will probably win the blue ribbon this year too.”
“Lady, I have no interest in Sally Mae’s pies. I thought her apple crisp was tasteless, like it was fried on the street. Please don’t make me hurt you. If we get caught this would be my third strike. The judge said if we got in trouble again we would fry on the rack.”
“George, will you check our escape and make sure nobody’s in our path?”
George did not return as expected. Shorty, the short man, found George and two other gang members working the grill, selling hot dogs and hamburgers. It was the first time the Succotash County Wildcats made enough cash to purchase matching uniforms .
It was the start of a new era. The Wildcats reigned as champions for several years. The Bad News Wildcats did quite well until that notorious girls’ team beat them in the championship. That humiliating experience was fried into their memory but never mentioned again.

WHY DO YOU SAY THAT?

Cranky? Don’t accuse me of something
When I come into the room.
I haven’t had my coffee,
And I’ve heard the voice of doom.
I’m not sure I’ll wake up tomorrow
And maybe I won’t last today
So don’t accuse me of being cranky
And keep everyone out of my way.
My hair is falling out
My cough is getting worse,
Why are you asking questions?
Is this poetry time, rhyme and verse?
My car wouldn’t start,
I must have walked a mile,
So get out of my face.
I don’t have time for a smile.
I think there’s a problem,
This company is operating at a loss,
I can’t put my finger on it
Even though I’m the boss.
Taxes are higher and overdue,
Cranky? I don’t think that’s true
Just because one of our clients
Is saying he will sue.
The sun must be on vacation,
You’re the one who was at the door
I was minding my own business,
I don’t want to hear anymore.

April 15, 2017