a haiku heart

"A haiku heart is the essence of nature and the ability to capture it with words."

~Sherrie

 

 

a robin's song~
my heart writes
the verses

Drive to Work

A cape of pines on the horizon made me feel covered in viridian green.  I drove down the road, trying to imagine the lining under the pines. Was it cotton straw or satin green? Above the pines were furry clouds, edged in ghost gray.

 

slow drive

down a country road

picturesque visions

 

I was in no hurry to get to where I needed to be. For a moment, I decided to take time to watch the scenery that made me feel as if I were standing still, as it rushed by. How did I manage to remember the small pleasure of a non-worried mind?

 

days drown

in bitter rushing

of worries

 

On a wire above a ditch sat a kingfisher.  His silvery blue feathered head cocked and alert. No escape for some unlucky insect, fish or frog. My grandfather once told me that kingfishers were water spirits. I nodded as I passed him, thinking how noble he looked on the wire, a king surveying his kingdom.

 

on a wire

waiting for dinner

kingfisher

 

Too soon my journey ended. As I walked the block to work, I felt a sprinkling of cool rain. A moment before I let the worries of a workingwoman embrace me, I smiled a thank you to the water spirit for his blessing.

 

sweetly purifying

summer rain soothes

my tired heart

June's almost over

Its hard to believe half the year is gone. What happened to it? Did I sleep through most of the last 6 months? I was thinking about time this morning, as I drove to work and also about a cowboy song, called Dust and Stars (A Stephen Brooke Original).

We worry about the little things too much. Can you remember what you were worrying about at this exact moment a year ago? 2 yrs ago? 10? I can't either. Only those that keep details minutes of their life written down can tell us that.

But why do we worry? Human nature?

Steve says that when we're gone we become "Dust and Stars." I like that idea. I've decided I'm not worrying about the little things anymore...cuz I want to shine bright after I'm gone and not burn out before.

Drawing

I drew you last night

in multi-colors

on a blue textured paper,

thin but with tooth,

so the granite would stick

to your image.

Greens over blues,

golden sienna over brown,

colors upon colors

found their way onto paper.

But when it came time

to draw the heart of you,

my fingers found black.

They trembled as I touched

the paper and marred it

with your true color.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A note about this poem. It was to be a happy sexy sweet poem, but I overheard my father in a conversation with my Uncle Red tell him that "<Name withheld> will show his true colors one day." Uncle Red jokingly asked him what was the person's true color. Dad said black.

a good quote for Today

"Throw your dreams into space like a kite, and you do not know what it will bring back, a new life, a new friend, a new love, a new country."

-Anais Nin

Thunder Rings

Deafening thunder rings like hollow oaks
in the garden of your eyes,
as you try to embrace zephyrs
that leave salty condensation on your skin.

You offer aching insight into the hasty memory
of citris lips walking over seashore pebbles,
but can only give small gems of the truth
about the starry night you stole heaven's sparkle.

Lithe and joyful, you fake a debonair heart,
while dancing alone as I weep.
You stole my brilliance with your clandestine karma.
Eventually storms pass, as do memories. Soon I'll forget your name.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(Just a touch of Neruda and a memory of a sly old flame who had a cheating heart)

Loins on Fire

When he said that his loins were afire, I knew that he was not for me.
The cynical woman that I am cannot abide the flimflam of old romance.
I am a feral beast when it comes to lust. Do not write sonnets of love,
Nor try to capture my essence in a twist-of-hair-at-my-nape haiku.
Give me the heat that two consenting adults can generate,
Once the niceties of society are laid to rest. I want to prowl
In the humidity of lust and roar in its climax. Meow~purr.

~Sherrie

*This poem came to me after reading poem after poem of flaming loins in another romantic poetry group. Come on people, are we in the 19th century??? Course I didn't post this there. lol

Fruity Temptation

Summer temptations make a man go insane,

Especially when a fruity bikini is my attire.

He should blame it on the grapes,

Their sweet globes tempted him to taste.

Juicy and succulent, he couldn't stop until all were gone.

Then came the peach slices with an aroma of sunshine.

He licked and nuzzled until there was nothing left but me.

Lucky for me, he still had an appetite.

In the Crook of a Smile

He was a blue denim boy in a ripped t-shirt,

All blonde and burly with a crooked smiled,

Which held secrets that I aimed to expose.

We spent a summer together at the coast.

Bare feet and tanned skin, the sun loved us.

At night when the tide was high,

We grooved to the tunes of seduction,

The kind that was double-loaded with lust.

On a blanket under the pier, we sexed the sand.

I was on top, doing a belly dance move

That was illegal at the time.

With circle and a hip drop, I crowned him.

He reigned in climatic glory. Those were the days.

Looking back, I realize I never did expose

The secrets that lived in the crook of his smile.

Now, twenty years later, I look in the mirror

And see a few of my own secrets lurking in mine.

a Ku

          

 

 

shore birds call

above a crashing surf~

no answer

Yesterday

I had a great yesterday! Dad, Lisa and the nephews came over.
The food was delicious and it was gobbled up by Dad and Lisa.
You would think she didn't know how to cook...wait, she doesn't. :P
I made a delicious squash casserole, boiled new potatoes with garlic and onions, steaks on the grill and a salad.

Dad played with the nephews. He rarely goes to visit Lisa. He makes excuses but the low-down is that he's a loner, much like she is. She's so much of one that I was very surprised when she got married and then produced two children. That's one reason why I keep the boys so much--to give her some quiet time so she won't go insane.

William ended up spending the night. I think he would live 24/7 with me, if he had the choice. Lisa made a remark that he might end up living with me when he gets older. I don't mind, but part of me feels sad, because he is a sweet child. His autism isn't a problem unless one makes it so. He's like any person--he's an individual with his own way of doing things. One had to fine a way to get on his level and when you do, I swear its worth it.

Gosh, didn't mean to go off on that tanget.

Killin' Time

A quiet day at work. I'm killin' time until 4 pm.
That song by Clint Black comes to mind when I think of killin' time, especially this line:

"I just might find I'll be killin' time for eternity."

I hope life will return to normal next week. Ben's much better today. He's a little trooper. I'm amazed at how well he dealt with having his tonsils out at so young an age. He's talking but its all muffly. When he does ring out clear, his voice is very high.

William did great this past week. He listened to me and never once failed to understand what I wanted him to do. He didn't argue about brushing his teeth or going to bed. He was happy to be with his Aunt Sherrie. We are a team.

...And I kicked his butt playing Mario Kart 64 on the old Nintendo that my brother gave him. I gave him every opportunity to win but he wasn't interested in that goal. He kept falling into rivers or down canyons or riding off the explore the castle when we rode past it. I dreamt about the stupid game almost every night this week.

Tomorrow is Father's Day. I'm having Dad over for an early dinner. We're grilling out. Lisa and the boys are coming over. I'm happy to hear that my lugheaded brother-in-law has to work. He's the biggest idiot this side of the SC line.

I haven't been online much after work this week. Surprisingly I haven't missed it. After William would go to bed, I did some reading--A short story collection by Bentley Little. Very good horror author.

And I did some Tarot studies too. Tomorrow morning I'll tackle some readings.

I've missed chatting with a few people. Sara came on a while ago and we caught up on our news. I haven't had time to chat with her all week. I also miss chatting with Robert. We enjoy a good laugh and the discussion of writing poetry and musing over muses.

We finally got the AC fixed at the studio. The unit is so old that it took 3 techs to work on it...but they ended up calling a guy who's been working on AC units since the beginning of the AC age. He said he was surprised the unit still works. Me, well, I'm happy it still does.

The family store next-door to us, The Washington's have a death in the family. Joan the mom's father passed away this week. He was 84. Today is the funeral. They left the studio number as the emergency number. Some chick just called and asked if I had a 'suit' for her. It seems she ordered a suit for father's day and didn't pick it up when they called her yesterday. I told her no and she was all upset over it. Jeez...is this an emergency??? I don't think so. She was suppose to pick the suit up on Thurs and knew that they were closed today. I'm not worrying about it. A person should use their noggin.

I finally caught up on the commissioned oils I've been working on since March. I had 3. Two have been viewed and will be picked up next week. The other is still sitting on my easel in the paint room, covered with a drop cloth. The lady who commissioned me is out of town for a few weeks. She's an accountant and is on Bald Head Island, NC vacationing. I'll probably have a brief lull until Sept. Which is fine, cuz my hand's been achy.

The weather is electrical at night. I can tell when a storm is coming by the steady throb of pain in my right hand across the knuckles and at the wrist. Maybe I should see doctor # 5 about it. Something to ponder over.

Wow, I've killed some time. Better publish this, check my email one last time and then get my few chores done.

:) I've rambled enough.

A Poet's Quest

I wrote this poem for a good friend.

A Poet's Quest

On linen paper inked in blue
Is the wistful tale of a quest.
The long search for vintage beauty
And eternal hope of love,
Written under the clock of night
By a wounded saddened poet.

Tell us your tale, moonstone poet
Of how you search the sky soft blue
And waltz across the dim of night
Never abandoning your quest
Of finding an enchanted love
Encased in porcelain beauty.

How elusive is this beauty
That drives you to write, blue poet?
In every face you look for love
That might be dressed in denim blue.
And pray to end your solemn quest
That consumes the heart of your night.

Yet in the midnight of black night
You create works of such beauty.
Others fall in love with your quest
Devouring your words, poet.
You redefine the color blue
And give new song to the word love

Is it a crime to yearn for love?
It oils the suit of a white knight
And powers your pen of ink blue.
To read you is to touch beauty,
An amazing gift to have, poet.
On a word steed, you pen your quest.

Others seek the very same quest.
They long to find their soul's one love.
Few have the heart of you, poet
Who writes away the grim of night
And finds in pain its dark beauty.
Your heart writes poetry in blue.

Carry on, poet, your heart's quest
To search the blue for treasured love
And verse lonesome night with beauty.

a ku

kittens playing
in my strawberry patch
making jam

A Phone Call

I wrote Al last week with the news of my poetry book. I didn't want others to tell him first. I tried to be very impersonal in the letter. He called Monday night. We chatted as friends and I thought, "Great, he's finally realizing we can't go back." We hung up on good terms.

Then he called an hour later. He had written the first part of a poem and asked me to finish it. He said, "It's only right that you finish it. The poem's about you." I finished it a while ago, printed it and am mailing it back to him.

He wrote the first stanza. I wrote the last. Here it is below:

Dew Suckle Honey

She came to me upon flowered breath
Dew suckle honey, oh how I wept.
To come so far and leave me behind,
for a moment I flowered
Now she's left me behind.
Dew suckle honey, the flowers' breath
I searched her in longing
But there can be no rest.

Dew suckle honey, bumble bees sing.
She came to him at the first of spring.
Daisies sighed and violets wept,
On heaven’s cloud they were swept.
Dew suckle honey, along came fall
As mold grew on the garden wall.
He was rooted; she had to fly away.
Dew suckle honey, memories stay.

Ben, William and...Mario Kart 64

I'm back. Ben's surgery was a success. He's home and doing as well as can be expected. I've got to go get William from preschool at 3ish. Lisa wants me to take him to her house until I or mom gets off.

I didn't go with Lisa to the hospital yesterday. Instead I kept William and we had a 'fun' day. We played with the Nintendo 64. I rule at Mario Kart. He likes to leave the track and go exploring. So I win every time. hehe He's staying at my house tonight. I promised him a re-match.

Tonsils

I'm working hard today because I may have to go with my sister to take little Ben the hospital. His tonsils come out tomorrow. I was amazed when she said it was now out-patient surgery. He'll have to be careful for 2 weeks due to bleeding but other than that he should be fine.

Lisa told him yesterday that he has Aunt Sherrie's blue eyes and her bad tonsils. Yea, I do have bad tonsils--in fact my throat is raw now from my sinuses draining. Allergies suck!

I hate to see Ben go through surgery. William had his removed at 3 and he had the worse time. I think it was partly due to his autism. Lisa said that when Ben had his finger pricked for blood work on Friday that he didn't bat an eye. So maybe, he'll do better. I hope so.

I've got a freezer full of ice cream and loads of jello waiting for him.

I have an addiction

Spider Solitaire

I play it on the home PC. As soon as I log onto my portion of the computer (I've created user names for me, my brother John and The boys) I click on the shortcut I created for Spider Solitaire. Do I make it online? Well, not all the time.

Several nights this week, I've made a vow that I was going to do some short story writing and shamefully, I never did.

Once you play Spider Solitaire, there's no going back to the boring regular variety.

I'll play until I lose a hand. The problem is...I've gotten so good I can play for hours and not lose one game.

Last night, I logged onto William's site and got online long enough to send some email, printed out part of a poem I had in an email draft and checked my RB group. But as I was about to log off, I found myself clicking on programs and on the verge of opening Spider Solitaire.

Guess what happened? Thunder shouted at me and I saw lightning flicker (I had all the lights out except the PC screen).
I decided to take this as a sign from the Higher Power to not click on the link and to get my cute ass to bed.

Twilight and You

(Someone asked me to write a 'love' poem. So with the wine of my words, I produced cheese and crackers. May they sate for now. lol)

Twilight and You

With the dimming light of day failing,
The air takes on a distorted look,
Like a slightly out of focus photo.
Trees blend into shadows,
While sparrows chase night bugs,
Awakened by the setting sun.

It is twilight’s first peep
At the remains of the day.

Soon the moon will rise above the trees.
The world around me will fall into shadows,
Clothing me in deep purple shades of you.
You and twilight, my lovers at night.
Dance with me, as fireflies light the evening
With winking sparkles that keep secrets.

Your hands mold my twilight
Into seductive moonlight.

I cry that I love you, my twilight warrior.
You are the one who caged my heart, enslaved my soul.
My body so bathes in desire for you,
A harlot of lust and lips of wine.
It is twilight and you impale me
With the first taste of night’s pleasure.

Shadows meld with us, as we join.
I am lost in twilight and you.

The Crow

I talked to Sam on Sunday for a little while. He owns the first yahoo group that I wrote poetry in. Last May he made me a co-moderator, something I consider to be a high honor. Anyway, he was really excited and happy on Sunday because the creator of The Crow, James O'Barr joined Poetry in Blue.

On the homepage of the group is one of his drawings and its is awesome. He seems like a really nice guy, too.

Here's his website: James O'Barr

Sea Ebbs

The sea ebbs within my thoughts tonight,
churning white caps of foam, salty and rich.
The death of May surfs in under a winking moon's glow.
With the death is a memory of sea birds flying;
pelicans, terns, seagulls and herons gliding on air.
Feathers on the same bird, he and I never were.
Though we loved the sea and the dangerous beauty she bred.
It is the end of May and the sea calls me,
urging me to bathe in her deep waters,
to sit on a rock, combing my hair with broken shells,
sing a mournful melody and lure ships to the rocks.
I am fearful of the sea;
afraid that I will be the one lured by her mournful songs
to crash amongst the jagged rocks and perish inside a memory.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I wrote this poem May 29. The inspiration behind it is a mixture of memories. I'm amazed at some of the replies it got in the Yahell Y-groups. This is one of the few poems that has a story behind it. I thought I would share it, since it's been on my mind last week.

My ex-fiance, Charles's birthday was May 29, which usually coincides with Memorial Day weekend. We were together from Feb. 1989 until Jan. 1995. The reasons why we didn't work out really don't matter now. In fact, I rarely think of him, except on Memorial Day weekend. Surprisingly hardly any of my poems are about him. I moved on years ago. He is a liar, a cheater and a mamma's boy. This year he's 43.

The last 3 or so years that we were together, he lived at Carolina Beach, NC in an oceanfront condo. It had a very nice 2nd floor view to the beach. About three condo's down was the pavilion, which had shops, I spent many early afternoon's windowshopping as I ate ice cream that dripped over my fingers.

The beach was always so beautiful, even during a storm. I drove almost 2 hours to see him every weekend. On Sunday mornings, I would wake up early, grab a blanket and a cup of coffee to watch the sun rise. What a sight! The sky would be a pale butter color, then a peach color, a bright white and finally a pale blue. Each color would reflect on the ocean's surface, sparkling like jewels. The shrimp boats would be out with their nets in the water, and dolphins would swim behind them, as birds flocked overhead. Sometimes I would see people walking or jogging along the strand. I found peace of mind as I watched these sights alone, while Charles snored away.

From late spring until late fall, I would go out to the ocean at around 8, after the sun was up in the sky warming the air. In a lounge chaise, I would read or have my binoculars out, watching the ocean for signs of dolphin, whales or sharks. Yes, I saw each on several occasions. Or I would have my 'bird' book out, reading about the sea fowl that stuck together in flocks, taunting the tourist. Charles usually swam or played volley ball with some of the other locals who lived in his condo. I usually stayed out on the beach until noon. I would gather my things up, go inside and take a nap or make lunch, sometimes sit on the balcony and watch the antics on the beach or go get ice cream at the pavilion. Then at around 3, I would go back out to the ocean and stay on the beach until 8 pm. I loved the area and for a while believed I would one day live there.

But life doesn't go as planned.

When I think of my years with Charles, the beach comes to mind. We both loved it so dearly. I painted loads of oceanic scenes--dolphin, lighthouses, crashing surfs... He had all of them until he gave them to his mother because of a girlfriend who was jealous of his mementos of me.

That's where the poem came from...the lingering memories of the sea and Charles.

Hairy Potty

...okay...I shouldn't make fun of his name. I'm in a playful mood, so excuse me.

When I got online this morning, I had a ton of offlines from John (an old online friend who got me interested in reading the Harry Potter books). He took his son to see the movie this weekend and Sara (another online friend) told him I had went to see it, too.

Since there are probably people reading here that haven't seen the movie yet, I won't say anything that hasn't been said already. I'll just say this...

J and I agree that though it was a good movie, we are having a hard time not faulting it for what was left out.

Yes, it is a big story to tell in under 3 hours, but still...there were important little tidbits that make the story that were left out.

It is very hard to separate the book from the movie, when you so love the book. John said that maybe we should stop reading the books. But that would be a tragedy, I think. J. K. Rowlings writes an incredible tale. The movies try to capture it, and they do in big ways, but like I told J, it's hard to make a movie that is in tune with our imagination.

Saturday Night and Harry Potter

Why is it that when you have a Monday off the rest of the week seems to be longer? I'm tired today. Battling a slow Saturday at work isn't helping any. I'm out of paper, so I can't do my printing. I don't know how I mistook an empty open box for a full one. I'll blame it on the fingerprint smug on my glasses.

Well, tonight is the night...the new Harry Potter movie is out. I'm there, baby.

We had electrical storms yesterday afternoon and last night.
The oak tree in the backyard lost a few of its arms. When we have electrical storms, my right hand really bothers me. Today its very stiff, I keep making typing errors. I've caught most of them. hehe I should have worn my brace but I hate it.

I have some Tarot reading requests for the weekend. Since I'm tired today, I'll wait until tomorrow to do them.

Can't believe it's taken me 30 mins to scribble here. Time to head home. I'll be back soon.

:D

I'm alive

...just busy.

I had a great weekend of being lazy. It was wonderful. But naturally, coming back to work after a few days off I find I'm scrambling around to get my work out for the week. One day off makes a big difference. It's amazing.

Mom's fiance is home from rehab. She's been there during her spare time. I didn't realize how much she helps out at my house. I haven't the boys much lately and I miss them so much. Lisa called today and asked if William can spend the night--that he's been asking for me. I said yes. A night of being silly is what I need.

The poetry book's off to the publisher. Now I'm concentrating on editing my novel and working up exercises for my creative writing group. It's been stagnant for a while. Bless my co-moderator--he's been too busy to help and I've been to busy to work in it, too. But now, I'm free and feel the urge to write.

I've been reading Stephen King's book--On Writing. Fantastic book.

Oops... clients here. Back to work!