She Gives

I stare at the small and wrinkled writing
And think of her fragile hand just like it
No birthday or holiday missed
As long as she lives, she gives

I pull on another hand-knit sweater
She made when her eyes were seeing better
She’s started the next one on her list
As long as she lives, she gives

I realize she won’t be here forever
My heart won’t easily forget her

I’ll pass to the coming generation
A few examples of her loving patience
I hope I’m remembered just like this
As long as she lives, she gives

Now I’ve grown to appreciate and understand
The strength of my mother’s mother’s plan

As long as she lives, as long as she lives,
As long she lives, she gives


Re-posting this as a remembrance for my grandmother's birthday.
Looking forward to it hearing it on co-writer Betsy Jackson's upcoming CD!

Ruler in the Snow

Ruler in the Snow
How much will it show?
Why the need to know?
Is it friend or foe?
Watched it fall and blow
Will the total grow?
Is it fun or woe?
Fun to shape or throw?

Written the day after the big storm for Nashville - grateful not to be further north and needing a yardstick to measure!

More About Fear

If I could change one aspect of me what would it be? Something you easily see, or something I've tried to hide, like my pride. Is it my fear I want to disappear, so I can get in gear not hiding in the rear? Afraid to speak up - What's up? What's holding me back? Afraid of an attack? Too much to hack? Worried I'll lack in what I try? So why proceed?....and there I feed the fear. Fear to share aloud - will I sound proud, or will I face ridicule? Will somebody say something cruel that I'll want to hide under a rock? So I balk, not ready to take the walk on the plank. Not ready to take the plunge till I can expunge the fear, but it stays near to what I hold dear. So I take a deep breath, take a baby step forward then three steps back before I will try again to advance. Not daring to dance or prance, just a tiny chance - then a big gulp! Do I ask for help? How do I get out of here away from my fear?


Written at Friday Night Write at Art & Soul last night.
Thanks to Mattison & Kelly and all the brave writers who shared.

Cover-Up

Who would've guessed him such a beast?
Preying upon the very least:
Trusting & scared, became the feast.
Young, ruined lives can't be re-pieced.
Molested by the parish priest,
Misguided by the church, then fleeced.
The cover-up was not policed -
Danger just moved, abuse increased.



In response to Spotlight movie that covers the scandal,
news of hometown parish priest released from prison last month.
http://www.spotlightmovietheaters.com/

Noise Box

I'm sitting in cubicle row
Hearing more than I need to know
With the speaker phones loud enough
So concentrating is really tough

I don't mean to be a jerk
But how can I do my work
While everyone talks and talks and talks
In this Noise Box

With earplugs or music I'm found
Cutting back on the sense surround
Till the mobile phones start to sing
More aggravating with their own ring

I don't plan to go berserk
But how can I do my work
While everyone talks and talks and talks
In this Noise Box

How many others watching their clocks
Waiting to escape this Noise Box


Written years back in an earlier job

Dear Fear

Dear Fear, I don't want you here, but you remain near to what I hold dear, wanting me to veer. So let's make it clear - I won't let you steer my writing career. So take up the rear, while I get in gear. I'm taking charge here, though you remain near.

Inspired by Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert

The Observer

I am the Observer, the Preserver
Whether with my pens or camera lens
It all depends which takes me further
Not always surrounded by friends
Others say Don't Disturb her
It will unnerve her
The silence will better serve her
Too many signals overwhelm
Too hectic being at the helm
Easier to be the Observer
It's been rapture for me to capture
A memory of the moment
I am the Observer, the Preserver


Written a while back at Soul Spring Retreat, but recently had this trait pointed out so I'm sharing now.