Sunday, October 23

It is nearing the end of October already, but the Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta is still in recent memory. I think it has been held the first two weekends of October for at least 40 years or more and never fails to inspire and amaze. I haven’t been to it but once since moving to Las Cruces. I saw lots of balloons all the years I lived up there, and now the crowds are so horrendous. The hotels are full and the restaurants crowded, etc. But everyone should experience it at least once. Pictures do not do it justice.

BALLOONS

In October, beautiful balloons arrive in Albuquerque.
They worship the clear blue sky—-
a parade of colors, shapes and forms,
more stunning than a photo.

They worship the clear blue sky,
taking passengers high above the mundane
and familiar into quiet awe.

A parade of colors, shapes and forms
by the hundreds fills the sky
in the crisp morning air.

More stunning than a photo,
though many pictures go home
to show friends what they missed.

Last weekend I drove up to Albuquerque to visit friends. (Balloon Fiesta was just ended). I wasn’t sure I would be able to drive the 3 plus hours without pain, but I wanted to try. I made it there and back, but not without discomfort. I had an MRI on my back again last week and maybe it will show the exact cause of my pain. Of course some of it is “age” and old friend Arthur Itis. A week from tomorrow I see my nephrologist again so will find out the status of the kidney disease.
I guess everyone has some kind of phobia, large or small. I have one that I suffered from since childhood, probably due to the chickens my Dad kept………….

PTEROPHOBIA

It was chickens first, I think,
with glaring beady eyes and scary beaks.
The day my dog laid a large loon
across my door was when I really freaked!

A bird got in my house and panicked.
So did I when it would not go away.
I know it was irrational and I
cannot explain why I was so afraid.

I’ll handle snakes and bugs you see,
but keep those feathers far from me.

I like them
in the trees,
please.

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October 2

Today we are hearing all about the tragic mass killing in Las Vegas. They are saying it is the worst in US history. There will be no end to these events until the government wakes up to the fact that they must put an end to the reign of the NRA and make it much harder for ordinary people to obtain those guns of mass destruction.

Anyway….got a couple of poems to share with you today:

GOD, HOW DO YOU KEEP US SORTED?

I said to God, “wouldn’t it be simpler
if we all looked more alike,
perhaps all spoke the same language?”

And God chuckled. He said
“what fun would that be?
I started out with simple creatures and
I got better at it. I fixed it so that
every time a person is born they look
different from all the others.

What if every story or poem you wrote
was the same? Every painting of the same thing?
No, no, I must create. It is who I am.
As for keeping you all sorted, well,
that’s my secret.”

HATE
Uh, there’s few things I hate
y’know, but
uh is one, y’know and
so is y’know.
It’s “sorta like”
you don’t know
because you don’t have
the words to “kind of”
say what you mean.
I listen to your uhs, ums,
and “kind ofs” and
“sortofs” and inside
I scream, “is it
really just “sort of”
or are you sure
of anything?

Will someone
please
find a speech teacher?

September 27

Today it is raining. Most of our rain in southern NM comes in the summer, but often lingers into September. We rejoice every time it rains, for the moisture is always needed.
I have pretty much given up any kind of strenuous exercise. (Never liked it anyway.) Even just doing ordinary things gets me out of breath and my heart beating, sometimes irregularly. I feel better when I don’t exert myself.
I always said exercise didn’t agree with me. I’m much better at reading, writing, imagining, and relaxing.

Poems for today:
HUMILITY

age is when
humility knocks softly
at your door, asking
“are you ready?”
explaining gently
that you must now
relinquish ability,
achievement,
appearance, yes,
and strength.

if you resist,
age will become
a home invader,
snarling and
threatening
until you bow
to its demands
and accept it.

loss announces
its presence too,
bringing
loneliness along
as friends and
family die
and resources
dwindle.

then you are forced
to look in the mirror
to see your
closest companion,
hoping that she
will like you and
make no
demands.

SMELL

There once was a man from Ouray
who loved to eat garlic each day.
It was healthy, he said
as he climbed into bed,
but his wife said, “Oh please stay away.”

September 17

No whining today ! I feel as well as can be expected. Still lots of pain here and there……even had a shot in my hip because Dr. said he thought I had bursitis. Helped a little (I think). My biggest problem is the breathlessness and pain upon walking any distance. So I have to do the things I can do without the physical effort. I have a TENS unit now and that helps a lot.
I hate shopping online, but I think I better get used to it as walking around stores is out of the question.
Anyway……poetry is the goal.
I thought I’d share something a little different today. I’m going to post a poem that I wrote when I was 11 years old. My first poem I think, at least the oldest surviving one. Then I’m going to post a poem I wrote a short time ago.

Here’s the 11 year old:
THE SAD STORY OF THE ALPHABET

A funny animal is sitting.
By him sits his little brother.
Crying hard, he sits and sniffles.
Drying eyes-his little brother.
Every animal must have his cry
For the boys have lost their mother.
Go and bring to me our father
He commands his little brother.
In no time at all he scampers,
Joyfulness all now has left him.
Kangaroos jump out of hiding.
Lose his way? Oh, no, he musn’t!
Mother now is all his thoughts.
Nose all wrinkled up a’sniffing,
Oh the trail is hard to follow!
Presently he bursts on father.
Queer that he should find him here.
Right away he tells the story.
Slowly, sadly, father follows
To the place where he left brother.
Under rays of gleaming sunlight
Very slowly he approaches.
Were he’d never seen this day!
Xerxes could not have been sadder
Yielding to the Greek’s great power.
Zebras watch from far away as they
kneel beside the grave.

The newer one is about our iconic NM chile. Talk about addictions! Once you have it you will go to almost any lengths to make sure you get your fix!

FALL IN NEW MEXICO

Sunny skies clear as a bell
and in the air the pungent smell

of chiles roasting all over town,
tumbling in barrels round and round

until the skin will peel right off
and the chile pod is roasted and soft.

Chile for burgers, beans, and rellenos,
chile for enchiladas and tacos.

No matter where New Mexicans roam
when they return they feel at home

when they encounter that mouthwatering smell,
for chile’s been harvested and all is well.

August 25

WHAT BEAUTY!

Oh see it with me !
Mountains blue, misty, or rosy,
sunsets red and gold and pink,
forests green, tall trees reaching up
into blue blue never ending skies.

But wait–there’s more than that–
there’s beauty in a friendly smile,
a caring touch,
a wrinkled face and snowy hair,
a little child with trusting eyes,
a table set with thanks and love,
or a baby’s coo.

And oh ! There’s beauty in
well-written lines,
in deep emotions spilled on paper,
in marvelous music that moves to tears,
and in your face as
you look at me with love.

This poem I wrote because of memories of a special cherry tree that I loved to climb and sit hidden among it’s leafy branches when I was a child.
CHERRY TREE

first my shiny green leaves fell off
and I felt naked
snow fell and I shivered
in the cold and wind.

but the snow melted and I felt the sun again
soon the man who planted me
came with shears and saw
to cut off some of my branches

I looked down one day
and saw small green shoots
they grew longer and
I felt encouraged

the man brought his children
to see my new growth
he told them to watch and one day
I would wear a lovely white gown

the sun came more often to
warm my branches and
encourage my tiny buds to open
until I was covered in blooms

the children came and marveled
at my beauty once again
they climbed into my welcoming arms
and I was renewed in the circle of life.

August 10

I’m almost done with my weeks of therapy and I can’t say I think it has done a lot of good. Same old pain. In fact, this morning, after I left therapy, I thought I had dislocated my hip. The pain lasted for most of the day and I could scarcely walk. So much for therapy !
That’s my latest whine. The best thing to do seems to be to distract myself somehow, which does more good than anything. When I am busy writing or playing, or visiting with friends, the pain goes to the back of my consciousness.

AUGUST IN THE PARK

morning
quiet
the neighborhood wakes slowly
birds chirp undisturbed as seniors
stroll or sip their coffee,
yesterday’s heat forgotten.

pets walk happily here,
so close yet far from
the bustle of the downtown market
where dogs dodge crowds
in a confusion of legs streaming by.

here birdsongs are clearly heard
while the slightest of breezes
makes gnarled old trees
look askance at one another,
each unique although
standing for many years together
like neighbors who never left home.

SUMMER RAINS

after the rains the sage becomes
a proliferation of purple,
bursting out in a
joy of beauty,
ephemeral, and thus
more precious,
like pleasures that come
once a lifetime.

July 29

As I get older I revel in memories of those special times that meant the most to me in my life. My regrets include not having a chance to travel to Europe often, but my one trip to Ireland was so incredible that those memories bring me huge pleasure yet.

JUST ONE TIME

One time I stood where mother stood,
where family roots reached from the land
to entwine their stories round my heart.

One time I felt connection like no other,
belonging, a rightness of place, feeling a shiver
of welcoming family phantoms crowding round.

One time only I had a chance to be
where fiddlers play and leprechauns dance
with sheep that graze on green carpeted hills.

One time only did history feel so alive to me,
so much a part of my present, and my past.
My heart is blessed with joyous memories.

Oh to be just one more time on that fabled isle
where forty shades of green could sooth my soul
and welcome me to heaven.

***************************************************

Remember the little bedtime prayer that everyone knows?….
Now I lay me down……..
Here’s one for adults:

BEDTIME PRAYER

At night I lay me down in bed
to rest my aching back and head,
to sleep, to sleep, perchance to dream
of things that are not as they seem.
For when I wake, dreams flee away,
disgruntled at the light of day.

July 17,’17

Hi everyone.
I have been to an osteopath and I am going to like him. He tried manual manipulation on my back last week, but said he couldn’t do me much good because my sternum is “frozen”. Doesn’t turn in all directions as it is supposed to.
So now I will be going to therapy for about 5 weeks. I am in hopes they can help. At least the cause of my hip and leg pain has been diagnosed properly (I hope!). I always said I hurt more when I have to walk or stand; turns out there was a reason for that.
Anyway, life goes on and I’m still getting around. Can’t do all the things I would like, but I’m trying not to complain. Others are much worse off. Last week 3 of my friends had surgery on the same day……one was for cancer, one for kidney stones, and the other for a broken hip. So when I feel sorry for myself I think of them.

My Self

My self is a mindless bird that sees
in the window glass another bird.

I fly to that other, but rather than
a joyful meeting
I smash my self against the reality of my ego

and lie broken and breathless on the ground.

I Cannot Abide Cold

cold feet, cold hands,
cold days, or
cold eyes

keep me cozy please
wrapped in sweaters and throws
happily snuggling a day away

banish ice cream, ice cubes
and ice cold beer

I wish to be far from icebergs
ski trails
and snowmen.

but even farther away
from iced people

July 2nd

A belated Happy Canada Day to my Canadian friends and relatives! Most of you know that I have never given up my Canadian citizenship. I said something the other day to a friend who didn’t know that…I said I wished I could return to live in Canada. She said it might not be that easy to move up there, and I said, Oh they have to let me in. I’m a citizen of the Great Country to the North. And proud of it.
There are reasons why I never became a citizen of the USA. After all these years, (57), why bother. Besides, I have always been appalled, from the time I first arrived in Indiana to go to college, at the arrogance of the American people. They think everyone in the world wants to be an American citizen and that they are the best at everything.
PBS is running a series of shows about the history of China. It is very interesting to think that China has thousands of years of history, culture and tradition while the USA is a comparative baby. And yet it seems to me that Americans look at China as somehow less intelligent, somehow less advanced. Strange.
These things are in my thoughts as this weekend is the 4th of July holiday. I confess that I tire of the rampant patriotism on display every year on the 4th. Everyone loves the country of their birth and every country has a unique culture and perspective. We should respect that.

Here is a poem I wrote 11 years ago and it is still relevant.
AMERICAN ECONOMICS
What do you do in 30,000 square feet?
there must be rooms
you never use,
Ceilings so high, with heat rising
and rising and rising
using massive quantities of fuel
To feed an ego bolstered by
a six-figure income
and some economic power.
Why do you need to impress?
who is there who in the end
will count you righteous for your greed?

What do you do in 600 square feet?
there must be a window somewhere
for you to feel the sun,
And old chair where you could put your feet up
to count the pennies
left from you social security check
And find a way to pay for
the little bit of heat you need
to make it through the winter.
Who do you have to live for?
who is there who in the end
will give you pity for your poverty?

June 20

Apparently I have hips that are, to quote the doctor, “totally out of whack”. So on Thursday of this week I will get a steroid shot in my SI joint which should help with my pain, which seems to me to get worse every day.
It will be a little while until I know for sure that the shot has helped and then the doctor will send me to therapist, who, he assures me, is excellent and will target the therapy to what I need.
I feel better just knowing there is a little help in sight.

Too bad that the world is feeling so much pain too. There are so many reasons for the state the world finds itself in, but one of things that is most dismaying to me is the billions spent on war and armaments. What a waste of resources. What if parents spent most of their money stockpiling weapons and said they had no money left over to feed and clothe and give health care to their children?
Anyway, here is a poem that came out of my reflecting on the huge military base near me called the White Sands Missile Range where weapons of destruction are tested.

WHITE SANDS

I am sitting under a bowl of perfect blue sky
on a hillside east of the Organs.
I see a line of distant hills and a green plain,
a vista that stretches for miles, and, over all,
a blanket of blowing dust.

There is a white ribbon near the horizon,
which I know to be a mystery of shifting sands.

A cooling breeze blows over me,
trying in vain to blow away
my thoughts of what is really below.
for it is a valley of death,
a place accepted because its jobs bless the economy
while it curses mankind with weapons.

There must always be new weapons,
new ways to kill,
new ways to be top dog,
to rule the world,
to smother love and mercy.

And so the dusty mist tries to conceal reality
just as clouds of unconcern blur our minds

and the wind blows on,
moving the sands tiny grain by tiny grain,
toward oblivion.