Saturday, June 8, 2013

~~~GRATITUDE~~~

Well folks, it is done, graduation from highschool of my one & only child.  

A new rhythm is about to begin for he and me.

Sort of at a loss for words....



I gave my Self a gift...I listened to this poem 18 times...



The Lanyard - Billy Collins
The other day I was ricocheting slowly
off the blue walls of this room,
moving as if underwater from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
when I found myself in the L section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.
No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one into the past more suddenly—
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid long thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.
I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.
She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,
laid cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light
and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.
Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift—not the worn truth
that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hand,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.


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

And here is a poem that I wrote...


Subterfuge - Orah 


the house is quiet

as quiet as it can
Be
in the electronic 
age
the clock ticks
it's battery operated 
tick
the refrigerator 
hums
but the house is
quiet
I drink wine
I read a poet that
I love
then a voice 
drifts 
down from the 
attic 
who is he talking to
or with
?
?
I hear his familiar 
voice
but who is this person
I can no longer 
photograph
only with
subterfuge
do I get a picture
of you
now
oh I am photographing the cat
you are near 
it is a coincidence
I just want a picture of a 
cat




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