Icy Roof

This is a shot of my neighbor’s roof a couple of years ago.


Steep northeastern roofs make the snow slide  safely to the ground  but when the sun is bright, the snow melts slowly,  the water freezes as it drips, icicles form.   They glitter like Christmas Tree ornaments but those pointy tips spell danger to me.




Roller Coaster

I will never muster the courage to be in these angles and to be this steeply angled against the ground. My 5 year old wanted to ride the kiddie plane and had to be accompanied by an adult. “What the heck! It’s just a kiddie plane,” I said as I took the seat beside my son. What do you know? My scream was louder than any of the children’s in the plane ride. While my face was turning white, my son gleefully shook the plane we were in. Sigh!


This little rock, the best one that my struggling graduate student of a fiance could afford then, heralded the changed course of our lives. Even when the gem is round, it, just like other precious/semi-precious stones, was cut at angles to draw out its luster.


SCARY NIGHT (and Other Stuff) for DVERSE Poets’ Pub

Naked trees tired of holding up the clouds
they fell like broken glass
smashing into the windowpane
The wind howled with abandon
knobby limbs creaked
and like a drunken man
fell to the ground
The eaves shook at the crack of light
splitting the heavens with a mighty roar
piercing screams tore through the night
wild-eyed children sought refuge
under the blanket, folded in the arms
of their mother longing for sleep.



And now, the Other Stuff:

The fruit of my hand is bitter and dark
it fills me with a nagging doubt
where others have succeeded
why have I failed
why is their coffee smoother
than the cup I make?


At the Pub, Bjorn posed the challenge to use  Defamiliarization in writing a poem-response.  Essentially,  Defamiliarization, as I understand it,  is a technique that makes the familiar unfamiliar. :-)



Spider and Puff2

She is a spider
weaving lace
out of delicate threads.
She made love
a coverlet,
the envy of queens.
She did not think twice
when betrayed by her prince
to unravel the sullied beauty
and start again.
Spider and Puff
The poem was inspired by this spider and my long standing crochet project.  :-) I have been betrayed many times by my clumsy hands and found myself tearing whatever progress I made to correct the mistakes.  Ah, the life of a crochet-er. :-)  I am stealing some time while my children are busy with their schoolwork and my littlest son is distracted by entertainments aside from PBS videos that he watches in my computer.

Ah, about these photos, I was wandering in the backyard several days ago looking for things to photograph.  A group of hawkweed puff caught my eye.  I took a picture and when I checked the result in the viewfinder, I saw a little spider hiding in the fuzz.  It was a wonderful surprise.
spider and Puff3

Happy Thursday.

LITTLE THINGS (for WPC: Achievement)


On Labor Day, my family and I visited the Freetown-Fall River State Forest. We walked the trail around the forest. Since I am just about the most reluctant walker in the whole wide world :-), I consider it a big achievement to be able to walk on this path and enjoy some family time. Beyond that, I consider loving and being loved by the members of this family (whose figures disappear around the bend) my greatest achievement of all.


I wash the dishes
prepare our food
do the laundry
fold our  clothes
scrub the toilets
polish the floor
kiss my husband
before he heads out the door

I change diapers
kiss my children’s wounds
teach them their ABCs
tell them to be good
I play their games
hug them tight
tuck them into bed
after prayers at night

When the house is quiet
I rest my weary feet
after I look at the faces
smiling as they fall asleep.
My life is hidden
in the little things
yet, to love and be loved
makes all the difference.


There. I got a little closer. These folks walk too fast for my liking. :-)

Thank you for coming by.  Happy blessed weekend to you. :-)


HIDDEN (for DVerse Poets Pub)

Coax me out of the shadows
with a sharp knife
tearing into the black veil
behind which I hide.
Here I bleed
and laugh and sing
where no one can see.
Would that I love
yet I do not know how
So solid is my fortress
rejection cannot get in
neither can I go out.
Would the pain that drove me in
be greater than that to set me free?
Yet your eyes are tender
your hands, serene
so I trust.

Over at the Pub, Victoria invites the community to write a poem that is inspired by an art technique. Scratch Art came to mind.  This technique requires scratching the top black layer to reveal the colors beneath.  A visit to the link will not only tell you more about the art  but also show some examples of Scratch painting.   Go drop by the Pub, too, for more responses. :-)