Memorial Day Motions

Picnics, outings and days off.

Parties, beers and barbeques.

Road trips, beaches and golf.

That is the rule not the exception.

That is, unless you are a mother or wife, a father or
husband or a son or daughter of a fallen veteran.

For you, Memorial Day will never be the same again.

Your picnics will have one less favorite food; your golf
will now be a different foursome and may always remain a threesome.

Your parties will be missing one special laughter and your
barbeques will be one hamburger or two short.

Your road trips will be short one driver and will have an
extra seat everyone will notice, but nobody will mention.

The beach will seem saddest of all, without his or her
footprints in the sand, or that last swim of the evening before the sun sets on the horizon.

No, you will go through the motions, but for you, they will
be the exception.

Glorious Summer

Some people are in awe of spring while others pine for fall.

Some like icy winters and too many don’t care at all.

Summer is her season.

Glorious summer, when images of turquoise oceans, bright
blue skies and sugar sands are enough to make her cry.

Glorious summer, when the sun kisses her skin and
streaks her hair golden until it seems that a painter has wiped his brush on her.

Glorious summer, when she can fill her senses with the
fragrance of the jasmine and the gardenia.

Glorious summer, when her lips on a ripe peach or a juicy
strawberry remind her of the best kisses she’s ever had.

Glorious summer, when cool white sheets on her sunburned
skin, mimic the touch of teenage summer love.

You can have your spring with its showy vanity; your fall
with its boastful fire or your winters with its gaudy holidays and false promises of renewal.

She will wait for summer, never impatient, always breathlessly
surprised by the gloriousness of it all.

Untitled

They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, yet, hers had been shuttered long ago by broken promises;

Unfulfilled dreams and the general malaise of knowing she had not lived the life she was meant to, but the life she had to.

They said the color of her eyes, so black, was what made them
impenetrable.

She knew better, but she just smiled and kept her soul in
hiding,

Silently waiting for the next time around.

Trying to Forget

She tried to forget the house in Walnut Creek and teaching
him to make Tofu-spinach manicotti.

She tried to forget the blue-green strapless swimsuit she
wore to Stinson Beach and his voice asking her to look up as he snapped her picture.

She tried to forget his arms around her as they shared her first sunset over the Pacific and his laughter at her child-like delight.

She tried to forget the drinks at Henry Africa’s and sitting
on top at the Hyatt, while below, San Francisco rotated around them.

She tried to forget she was married and months later, she
tried to forget that he was.

She tried to forget him forever, but forever just never
arrived.

Believing in the Impossible

Like the Queen of Hearts of Alice in Wonderland,

who “believes in six impossible things before breakfast,”

She opens her eyes every morning full of possibilities for the day.

This is the day that her life will change forever.

It is the day when she is 30 again and her water boy is waiting for her in

his sunny room to tell her he loves her and will sacrifice all for her.

It is the day that she in unencumbered and no one will suffer if she

follows him to the edge of the sea.

Today, she will float away for that “happily ever after” with the laughter

in her throat sounding free and easy and the sparkle in her eyes forcing

others to wear sunglasses.

It is the day when she will never have to steal or miss his kisses;

And the day she will be feel his breath on her neck and his hands through

her hair knowing that it is not for an hour, but forever.

Suddenly she realizes what made the Queen of Hearts so mean.  She DID

want to believe in “six impossible things before breakfast,” but in her

heart of Hearts, she knew the impossible was just that…

For Carleton

To know the strength of a woman look at the grasses swaying
in the winds on the Ngong Hills in Kenya;

Or watch how the sugar cane stalks bend under the force of
hurricane winds in the Caribbean.

To know the strength of a woman stand in a bamboo forest
during a Kona wind;

Or watch a small tree grow on the windward side of a Rocky
Mountain peak.

But to really know the strength of a woman look in the eyes
of one who has lost a child to estrangement, to disease, to untimely death;

And see how she goes on day after day, like a tall Royal
Palm swaying in the breeze;

Graceful, strong and beautiful!

Musing #1

Welcome to my poetry blog.  I hope you will be compelled to comment and to help my writing grow with your honest and constructive feedback.
I refer to my poetry as “Unschooled poetry for every day folks”  and hope that readers are either moved or find something that empowers them to think about things in a different way.