This side of Heaven
 

you arrived on time
and into my heart

and inside my heart
a flower bloomed

the bud opened
you offered respite

i drank it in
never tasting hemlock

I opened further
inviting you deeper

you said
"wonderful, beautiful, delightful"

followed by
"but i just wanna f*** you"

Again I have fallen
 

short of your expectations

long on your list of missed opportunities

add me to the line of women who fall just outside the 50 yard line

you need to be right

I want to be loved

I don't care who is right

you don't care you are loved

you learn lessons the first time

I can't get it right even after the third time

but I do get it now, I do, I really do

Again I have fallen, failed the test, I had to see for myself

I see that in my attempt to discover the truth

I lost you.

Bare with me...... your hearts
 

April 30, 2007

Desert Roses

Keeping stacks of photo albums is not something I do. The way I see it is that if you can’t remember it, taking a picture won’t help. So I went through the snapshots in my head trying to remember five instances which I thought were memorable enough to write about. The first one was an 8mm film my mother had filmed when I was around two. I was running around my paternal grandfather’s yard showing off for my dad. Eventually he catches me, which was the point of the whole running around bit. I didn’t get to know my father, he and my mother divorced when I was three or four. I can’t remember if I loved him or not. I imagine I did, don’t all little girls love their daddies no matter what? Of course, the only reason I remember it at all is because my stepfather made the 8mm into video for me and I remember parts of the video.

The second was of me becoming a mother for the first time, at age 18, actually 20 days after I turned 18. In 1974, I got pregnant, graduated high school, got married, and had my first child, in that order. I was real busy in 1974. There I am holding my first child, I was one proud mother. He is my first True Love. He was so pretty with his big blue eyes and long eyelashes; everywhere I went people commented on what a beautiful baby girl he was. I got tired of correcting them, so I just said “thank you”. My son was born in Hawaii on Thanksgiving and my Hawaiian neighbors called him Maka Nui Nui, big bright eyes.

The third picture is of me holding my second child, my daughter, the love of my life. She was born on Valentine’s Day 1978. Yes, my children want to be remembered at holidays. The fourth snapshot is of the kids and my boyfriend standing in front of the giant anchor at Pearl Harbor. God, we had such a wonderful day that day. My boyfriend, was with us for six wonderful years. We went to several historical sites on Oahu that day, someday I will go back and see them all again. Since then my life has been like a Concord flight, almost at the speed of sound. Most of it is a blur. Mostly due to my brain injuries sustained in 1994.

The photo I do have and look at a lot is the one taken in Old Town a couple of years ago when my life long companion, and I were pretending to be tourists. It’s like a mini vacation for us. When you are poor working class, it’s the only vacation you are going to get. Just a couple of bucks worth of gas, two sandwiches and another three bucks for a couple of big sodas at Seven-Eleven, and we are set for our adventures. We visit our favorite stores, complain about everything being made in China, smooze with the clerks, look for new-to-us ceramic artists and ooh-ahh over the Native American handmade pots that we will be never be able to afford.

I am finally starting to learn to be grateful for what I have and not whine about what I don’t have. My companion is who I am grateful for the most. I have learned more from him than I learned on my own. The day I learned to be grateful was when he told me I was richer than King Louis the fourteenth, the Sun King. Now you must understand that I spent most of my youth in Europe. I have walked through the Louvre, and seen its treasures, I have been atop the Eiffel Tower in Paris, I have seen the real Mona Lisa. I have seen the tulip fields in Holland, and the miniature villages. I have been all over Spain and Germany. I have visited many castles, and stared at famous tapestries, paintings, sculptures, I’ve been around. So when I sat there, in what I consider squalor, and HE said I was richer than the Sun King of France, my immediate response was, “bullshit.”

So He proceeded to give me a list; indoor plumbing, clean hot and cold water on demand, a daily bath in warm clean water, soap, shampoo, deodorant, flush toilets, refrigeration, air conditioning, heat in winter, a two hundred dollar down comforter, a mattress off the floor, no rats, no mice, antibacterial soap, modern dental care, toothbrushes, toothpaste, fluoride, antibiotics, and that’s just for starters. So that very day, I became grateful for all the many modern miracles and gifts I have each and every day, and most of all I’m grateful for my Leo, my Lion King.

I think when we are looking for life mates, we are looking for someone who will love us in spite of our many shortcomings; B. O., morning breath, flatulence, and wrinkles. When you are twenty five and wrinkle free and everything is perky, and you can still hold up a tube top without artificial support, life is good to you. But after dueling life every day for fifty years or more, you realize that the odds are with the house, and you are not holding a winning hand.

Real love puts the money down not on the house, but with you. Knowing that inspires you to be your best, even if it means you can’t quite pack a pair of jeans like you did in high school, and you are not a Nobel Prize winner, you’re just a working slob barely making ends meet at the end of each pay period.

After my accident Leo used to say that I was like an orchid, that I was fragile and needed special care. He did his best to take care of me until I recovered enough to go back to school and back to work. I used to tell him that he was like a rose bush. Tough, thorny, and the more shit you piled on the stronger he would get. Recently Leo has changed his opinion about me. After seeing the obstacles I have overcome and how I just get stronger and tougher she has decided that we are both a couple of desert roses. Despite drought, pests, stupid gardeners, freezing temperatures, relentless sun, we are stronger than ever.

So what is love really? Love means saying you’re sorry and meaning it, making amends, and not doing it again. Love means respecting the one who loves you and being someone respectable. Just like the old Tammy Wynette song, “Stand by Your Man”, you have to stand by the special someone you love. Being tough enough to get through whatever life throws at you, and soft enough to be kind to each other is a primary requirement. The other main ingredient is to have a sense of humor, because sometimes that is the only thing you have going for you. We spend a lot of time laughing, at each other, ourselves and others. Getting too serious could kill you.

I have been looking at our portrait a lot lately, and wondering how I got so lucky. If you believe in destiny then it was meant to be. I believe in a cosmic committee of old women, who get their yayas by sending us off on a wild goose chase we call our lives. As I look backward at my life I can see where at each turn in the road their guidance lead me to where I am today. Sometimes gently and sometimes not so gently, and sometimes downright painful. But I’m grateful, very grateful to be where I am today. I can proudly say I’ve become a Desert Rose.


Me and Leo * 1993 to 2009

Oh darn.
 

Was all set to post and the coffee shop is closing.....:seeingstars:

tick tock, knock knock
 

and then...
 

Day by day I die a little bit more
day by day, you bite a little bit more

between dusk and dawn I retreat some more
between dawn and dusk you push a bit hard

baby steps, baby steps, baby steps.
unlearning to walk, unlearning to stand.

losing my self, my voice, my mind.
losing gained ground, gained strength, gained pride.

wondering how to turn back the tide.
wondering why i'm in a back slide.

Slippery slopes, fall in a moat.
slipping your mind, sinking my boat.

death at my door, feather bound
death in my hands, burial ground.

change is at hand, chaos abounds
next time

i

will not

make

a

sound.

Reality Check
 

Like most folks, I've had my share of reality checks, the only difference between us is probably how much they were written for.......

Curls
 

I long to hear your voice again
telling me about your day
Laughing with you, teasing too
oh, my love, how I miss you.

Dark curls frame your smokey eyes
draw me close, I clench my thighs
my dreams seem real, no surprise
embrace me til next morning rise.

Flitting through my mind today
thinking bout' just what I'd say
if you walked up by my way
I heard a birdie, "not that way".

Humm, thought I,
what does she spy?
another train wreck?
another cry?

So I sat down beneath a tree,
feeling like I should breathe,
slowly, calmly, like a breeze,
to stop the shakin' in my knees.

As I watched the birds chit chat
I thought about if they like cats.
Then it hit me, just like that,
I can take another path.

It's the new year, read somewhere that it's the year of the snake according to the Chinese calendar. Rumor has it that whatever you are doing on new years eve, is what you will be doing for the next year. Boy is that a scary thought.

Guess that means that again I will be adrift in a sea of change. Was sorta liking being in one place, and now that has changed, with another reminder that I will be on the road again sooner than I had hoped.

It's all good. I really enjoy meeting new people, sharing tips for travel and ideas for better simpler living. The toughest part I think is that in leaving this time my expectations are much less about people and more about what I can expect from myself. Look at it this way, how can we expect things from others, when we can't reach the expectation for ourselves? Kinda silly don't ya think?

So back to the drawing board, throwing out the bath water sans baby, gonna close my eyes and spin three times and point to the map. That's where I'll be.

Random thoughts today
 

Teetering lime on crystal edge
grains of salt, Cuervo's sting
stars fall to disappear
wondering wishing he was here.

Skipping stones on silent lakes
lighting fires ringed with smoke
burning loins swollen lips
wondering wishing he was here.

Pulling ropes of hemp so taut
scrubbing off his touch so light
raw tender scorching tears
wondering wishing he was here

Old poem
 

Another oldie
 

As i sit here on the front porch i can see the lights of the valley below me sending out their last bit of twinkle, letting me know that all is well and running smoothly. Somewhere along the Rio Grande River Valley is my precious youngest granddaughter to the south of me and to the north along the same valley is my oldest granddaughter and two grandsons. To my left, too far to see is Arizona, where my son is probably taking a shower and getting ready to attend his college classes and swigging a cup of coffee, straight, grabbing his backpack and heading for the University. My daughter is probably letting the dog out to tinkle just like Yoda just did, and as she stands in the doorway waiting for him to find the perfect spot, she is probably thinking about all the things she has to get done today before my granddaughter awakens demanding to be held and wanting cereal.

The moon is setting in the western horizon, a kind of orange glowing ball, it is sliding behind the west mesa as i write this for you. i'm feeling kind of melancholy this morning, not sure why. My ceramic Goddess is watching to the south, silently standing in the chilly air. She is simplicity. As i sit next to her i am reminded of all the women who have come before me, the women who share this time on earth with me, and the ones who will arrive after we are gone. The First Mother, what challenges did she face? Did she know she was the First Mother? Her DNA beginning the wheel of humanity, civilization, culture? Did she i wonder, cry at the birth of her first child, cry at the death of another. Did she mate for life or was she a member of a tribe where intimacies were openly shared with all? Did she bare her soul to the Moon or the Sun, or were the Mountains that sheltered her the foundation of her awakening sense of self? Did she intimately connect with the Earth that recorded her steps and passage, memorizing the details of each plant she tested, each berry nibbled and each fiber woven into the texture of her world? Did she have visions of a future she didn't understand?

Morning Sun is arising behind me, the mesa to the west is no longer sharing the twinkling lights of the valley. the roar of the freeway is getting louder, and the hum of tires and pounding of the asphalt is familiar and irritating at the same time... the quiet solitude of my childhood is a faded memory, i recall little of that time. The sleepy village in France, with the smell of bread baking before dawn can still be recalled in my mind if i concentrate really really hard. It was the only place on earth where i felt at home. Not knowing that it would be over 40 years before i would discover it was my the home of my ancestors. I want to see it again before my time here is done. I am grateful that my mother was an aspiring artist and created many works of art while we lived there. There is a painting of the little old lady with the stooped back feeding her chickens and ducks across the creek with her thatched roofed home behind her nestled under an ancient tree. The happiest time of my life was spent by that creek. Each morning upon waking i meditate as i drink in the visual reminder my mother gifted me.

While you sleep safe and warm in our shared nest, i remember when we first met. You were with her and i was with hym.....i was thinking how i wish i could walk in her shoes for just an hour, The tenderness and compassion and love you gave her so freely, expecting nothing in return showed me that the love i craved was possible. I never dreamed you saw the same in me until you shared your secret longing during our pillow talk time. Every moment spent with you is a jewel that i tuck away in my heart, the ease with which you care for me is proof that loving is a natural state for you, i'm so grateful to be a part of your life and receive the gift of love compassion and tenderness that is you.

When you awake i will pour your coffee for you in one of the Goddess cups i made years ago. Her plump figure, round soft breasts that feed the world, and the tiny feet she stands on tippy toe to kiss your forehead and bless you, will warm your hands as we sit out here on the porch sharing our morning thoughts, holding hands across the table.

Tuesday morning.
 

I don't even know what I'm doing today, plodding ahead, numbly doing rote tasks. I asked "why don't you help me? I can't move as fast as I did before my surgery, it takes me much longer to do stuff now." and you answered, "because it's your stuff."

Because it's my stuff.

Because

it's

my

stuff.

When you wake up and coffee is ready for you
When you come home and your laundry is done
When you come home for lunch and a hot meal is waiting for you
When you are tired and your back hurts and I give you a massage
When you have a headache and I rub your temples and give you a foot rub to pull your attention from your headache
When I bring you a cold drink and cool towel to wipe your sweat away when you do the yard
When I make your lunch when you work out of town
When I get you fresh ice water without being asked
When I put fresh sheets on the bed I'm not allowed to sleep in
When I paint the interior of your house
When I take out the trash daily
When I clean the 3 bathrooms
When I vacuum 2300 sq ft of floor
When I plant flowers, trees, palms, plants
When I sweep the porch
When I clean your truck
When I scratch your back
when I hug and hold you when you are sad
When I clean your man cave
When I feed your pets daily and nightly
When I provide first aid for you and the pets
When I cook giant omelettes for you and all the trimmings
When I clean up the yards after storms
When I clean up the yards after the tree guy makes a mess
When I do dishes and clean up 3x a day
When I clean out the fridge
When I pick up your dirty clothes and shoes
When I buy your favorite cookies or make them from scratch
When I fix your torn clothes, sew on buttons
When I do all these things and more

I say te amo,.......................not "that's your stuff".

You are right. yes. it's my stuff. Thanks for the reminder. (f)

I had no idea how true and painful those words could be until I heard them. I'm recovering from heart surgery, 8 hours of it. Will take at least a year, and have a ways to go. So I'm moving by myself, again. Lifting boxes, furniture, stuff. (Against Dr's orders) It's all just stuff. I don't want to leave it all behind. Omg, how cryptic is that.

Good grief. More truth stuck in my craw. lol, this too shall pass... really? are you sure? My inner self does not believe it.

So now my home is on wheels stretching 38 ft long. She is my Grace. My saving Grace. I have no idea where I'm going after I leave this current situation.

Maybe this time instead of following my 'Bliss', I will just live in 'Grace'.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/17857260@N00/

Take a gander at Grace's new riser.... not done of course but maybe by the weekend? :rrose:

I'm doing some thinking about what i think love is.

Taking another look at my list I see that if the person I'm with doesn't see what I do as love in action, then maybe there is something I'm missing. So I looked at the list, really looked at it and tried to be neutral. Not easy.

If I look at the list and see it as good breeding, good manners, things I 'should' do as the femme partner, the domestic half... then it's NOT love. It's just a list of things I do to express MY love. But it's not Love. It's just stuff I do. Stuff I do in the name of love. So if you erase the stuff i do. All that's left is the feeling. Maybe that's the love. The feeling. Not the doing. So if I stop thinking that the things I do are love, then thinking I'm not loved in return will be gone. That would free up alot of energy used to be hurt and angry over something that is not even happening. What could I do with that overload of energy? Maybe i could use it to get rid of other silly things I do in the name of Love.

Hummm. Food for thought.

Ha. Finally figured it out.

Wednesday night
 

I saw your handsome face
next to hers
smiling at the camera
next to hers
skin to skin
next to hers

I saw the location
next to hers
you drew a picture
it was hers
it was precious
it was hers

I saw the end of me
next to her
I saw the end of you
next to her
never an us
next to her

Let go... let go... let go... let go... let go... let go

Thoughts, memories...
 

This may trigger some folks so please do not read if you are sensitive to abusive issues including rape and other violence...




Few people can escape the horrors of daily living. Few people can get through their lives without being touched by violence, cruelty and ignorance. Today with instant access to news around the world, there is almost no escaping. North Korea's threats, Middle East turmoil, Ireland's cries, Israel's laments... and right here in our back yards... young women choosing death over life after brutal attacks, children dying in the midst of loved ones, while others profit.

So why are we sitting in our chairs at home instead of leaping forward to action?

Do we need engraved invitations? Awards? Pats on the back? A stipend?
Free dinner? Fame? Bragging rights? Our own reality show? Date with Oprah?

Every woman I have known or do know currently, has been assaulted by violence personally or through loved ones. So what can we do about this? Are we willing to step up to the plate? Without compensation? Out of our love for others? I say put our butts behind our words.

Stick our collective butts out.

Who's with me?

What's in a word?
Intent is what it means to me
Desire is how it feels to me
Projection is the way it is used by me
Denial is when I'm misunderstood.

What's in a word?
Humor is the tone
Laughter is the response
Joyful is the basket
Happy is the mood.
Denial is when I'm misunderstood.

What's in a word?
letter, vowel,
cadence, measure,
Can you hear my heart
in my words?
Acceptance is when I'm understood.

One of the many reasons i come to this site is because like many people i crave human connection. It's a place where i can share my poetry, my enjoyment of erotica, compare notes with other folks, connect with people who share my interests, offer advice or insight with my limited understanding. And maybe meet someone who would like to be my better half. It has been an exercise in futility for me. Instead i spend too much time avoiding living my life and my responsibility to my self. Expecting to find answers to questions in each post i make or read seems rather silly now...

This current health issue has really knocked me on my ass this time. Perhaps it is a blessing that i don't have a partner as i face this challenge. It would be an even worse situation if someone was here today, loving me, and facing the possibility of a worse case scenario. It is better that i am alone at this point in my life. It amazes me how much i have had to deal with in the last several years, and how i have continued to keep laughing and pushing forward, believing that just around the corner things will smooth out, things will get better, i will find my Sparky (that's right, there was never a Sparky, and still isn't a Sparky) to share my life with, through thick and thin, rich or poor, just like in the movies. Being part of the Mass Media Generation has it's drawbacks, and the biggest one is how it fuels our fantasy that the perfect " (fill in the blank) " is ours for the asking or wishing or even worse, that we are entitled to having it all. It keeps us from enjoying the moment in our hands, which is really all there is. this moment.. right now. There are moments of great clarity at times when the "living in the moment" understanding hits me in the solar plexus and i snap awake for a few minutes and revel in the bliss of really feeling alive and connected to the Universe and everything in it.... but holding on is something else again......... it slips away as quickly as it came.

There are several folks i have met here that i would not trade for anything. Their total support of me and compassion and understanding have kept me going more times than i can count. I would name drop but i don't want to embarrass anyone, you know who you are.

I need a break, don't know what kind of break, what it looks like, or how it sounds or acts, i just know i need a break. So I'm going to spend some quality time with myself and see if i can allow it to happen naturally instead of forcing it like i usually do. I'm feeling raw, skinless and without shelter from the approaching storm. Time to sit on the bare ground and listen to the beating heart of my mother.

To those of you who enjoy reading my marathon posts, thanks for your lovely words of support. You touched my heart profoundly.

I wrote this 3 years ago.... and nothing has changed since then. Today is the first anniversary of my heart attack and on June 1st the anniversary of my quadruple bypass. I'm in the same place. Broken heart, real and imaginary. Without human companionship, homeless, drifting in a sea of indifference and apathy. Struggling to move, put the next foot foward, plaster a fake smile on my face, be perky for the cameras. I'm so exhausted from being the emotional punching bag I have become. I feel like I can no longer fight back or flee the position I have put myself in. My reserves are tapped. I have reached out again and again. Am not doing it again until my reserve tanks are full. Now I have an understanding of how Moses might have felt searching for the Promised Land for 40 years. I've been doing the same thing. At 16 full of hope and joy looking towards what might be, to today.

Happy Anti versary
 

July 5th, 2013... a cyst they say ... come back in six months.

D Day
 

My Mother's house was always clean, something cooking, or baking, and every six months the smell of her secret wood conditioner. Yes, I have the recipe now.

I love a clean comfy home. Fresh fruit or flowers, garlic garland hanging in the kitchen window over the sink. A soft cat purring on an antique quilt as I (w)sip a cup of ginger tea. My sketch book on my lap, pages filled with notes, ideas, drawings of future clay projects.v

D Day
 

My Mother's house was always clean, something cooking, or baking, and every six months the smell of her secret wood conditioner. Yes, I have the recipe now.

I love a clean comfy home. Fresh fruit or flowers, garlic garland hanging in the kitchen window over the sink. A soft cat purring on an antique quilt as I sip a cup of ginger tea. My sketch book on my lap, pages filled with notes, ideas, drawings of future clay projects.

Today I shampooed two large area rugs, wool with lovely floral designs. I wrestled a seven foot couch outside, it's old unclean, filled with odors accumulated from decades of living in a family room. It's past it's prime. I know, don't tell my surgeon. I vaccumed the cat hair covered fluffy chairs, moved them into the den. Moved the 50's bamboo end table between them so there is a place for resting a coffee mug in the morning.

Took down the tacky ruffled curtains, replaced them, it's starting to look like a human being lives here, I thought to myself.

She wept over the old couch. I helped drag it back into the living room. Don't tell my surgeon, he will be angry at me for straining my chest muscles again.

A clean comfy home, doesn't everyone want one?

Guess not. I'm being egocentric again. Is there an app for that?

I love a clean comfy home. Fresh air, flowers and fruit, something baking, ginger tea ....

Well, it's not working. I've done everything I know how to do. Prayed, asked forgiveness, meditated, cried, written letters, poetry, stories, dreamed a way out, a way back.

Focused on moving out of my fantasy, hoped for best, expected nothing.

And that's just what happened. Nothing.

So I surrender to a power greater than myself.

Love.

People see the beauty in you!!!!!!

I have been doing some soul searching lately. Although the Epiphany Fairy has been sitting on my head pointing things out to me, with gales of laughter, it's been at times pretty painful. It occurred to me the reason for discord and missed opportunity in my relationships is my beliefs, expectations, desire, and seeing failings in others that are simply reflections of my failures. I can only recognize many of my issues when someone else is brave enough to show them to me.

Thank you, I love you, I'm sorry, please forgive me, thank you, I love you, .....

Looks like my dreams are over, the insulation is making no dent in the heat factor and there is no way I can live in it comfortably. It won't be protection for the cold either. My mosaic tile work has fallen off the risers. Putting radiant barrier on the windows did nothing to stop the heat build up. Farmers almanac says we are going to get a nasty cold winter here in the far south.

I'm so screwed.

Lol, and ... oh the hell with it. Why do I even bother posting about it? It's not like it matters to anyone but me.

Okie dokie, gonna drive Grace to the storage unit and empty it out. Should be a great day to visit the er later today. I'll see you guys on the other side.

Year five. Might as well be zero hour.
I see her when I glance in the mirror.
Soft brown peppered with white.
pale flesh on tired bones.

She died again last night.
Every night for the last week.
I resist the pull of my nest
Resist the ache between my ribs.

Centimeter from collapsing again.
Ocean of tears pushing,
against the levy
protecting my broken heart.

she loved me,
she loved me not.
i loved her,
i loved her not.

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Lately I have pondered why shit happens the way it does. I think it happens the best, most expedient way possible to get our undivided attention. Extreme measures happen when we hit a super low point in our lives.

It's the beginning of our new dawn to a rainbow of riches beyond our reach in mundane circumstance.

Embrace the rainbow. Live the rainbow. BE the rainbow.

*cue music ......"Somewhere .....over the rainboooow. w.w.w...."

Will you miss the sound of my voice
" Good morning My Love, here's your coffee."

Will you miss the soft touch of my hands
rubbing your sore back, brushing that lock of hair back.

Will you crave the warmth of my soft body
curled around your strong form our hearts whispering softly.

Will you crave the way I kiss your sweet mouth tenderly
occasional nibbles of your lower lip.

Will you heave a sigh of regret or longing
when you step into empty rooms.

Will you miss me?

Love shack Baby!!
 

It has finally penetrated my dense skull. Seems I am cupid. I would have never guessed in a zillion years! I love to talk to everyone. Share giggles, recipes, jokes, and at the point I feel like I want more than a pm or visitor message I take a risky leap of promise.

I always ask if they are involved or hopeful about someone, don't want to muddy the water, or interfere with someone's life. After many assurances I continue, assured that no one will get hurt.

And without fail, in a short bit of time, they are hitched to their dream girl.

It's not me. :rofl:

So I have concluded that I, ladies and gents, am Cupid.

Looking for your true one and only Love?

Let me know. After we chat for a bit, she will magically appear! :cracked::cheer:

Ah sweet Butterscotch,
hard candy
sweet against my tongue

Ah sweet Cowboy
gently rocking rolling
on Stallion Bay

Ah sweet gentleman
at last our time is come


Breathing in tandom
hearts in sync
spooning dreaming

Riding waves of bliss
entwined throughout
the twilight hours

You are mine and I am yours
my shining star, your honey moon.