AIR ON G
(J.S. Bach)
It’s an Air kinda day ~ G
Finding G
Blogger Poetry Challenge !!!
My entry for the poetry challenge by Rule of Stupid is below.
Here are the contest guidelines:
I offer a challenge. From your own blog (or another), can you pick a comment chain and – with minimal editing – turn it into a poem?
If so, link to the poem and the comments here (in a comment),
I’ll choose a favourite and they can pick from a choice of prizes!! Woo!
CLICK HERE TO GO TO ROS SITE TO ENTER CONTEST
~~~~~
SUBJECTIVE REALITIES
When she proclaims
with most serious conviction
that she completely believes that
“Everything happens for a reason . . .
and in it’s right time,”
Some might comment:
~~~
“I think we have this
backwards –life
is a lot
of random chance.
It doesn’t happen
for a reason,
but if you respond
with compassionate awareness,
you will grow stronger
in adversity.
Thus IT
just happens,
but we can
GIVE
it a reason.”
~~~
She stands firm
in her choice
of viewing life
her way
with all due
respect of the different
perspectives
of ‘the others,’
Staying true
to her-ownself
habitually
her response continues
to be:
~~~
“It is difficult
for me to connect
random, chance and accident
with purpose, reason and divine timing,
so for the now,
I will stick to
the philosophy
I accept
from behind my [spectacles]
of rosey tinted glass,
compassionately
thank you
for your [good intentioned]
interaction,
and skip down the path
of the journey
that has been laid down
‘specially for me.”
~G
(Air on G)
(Inspired by comments left by other blogger(s) on my poem, CYNIC GRATITUDE)
(THE STORY – PART 2)
PAMPAKES AND TEDDY BEARS
“Grandpa’s on his way”
said Dad,
“We’re gonna have pancakes for breakfast and after that we’re gonna open presents!”
A few minutes later, Grandpa Bob walked in
with arms full of wrapped boxes.
He always smelled of
cigarettes,
coffee,
Old Spice cologne
and peppermints.
He dropped the gifts on the sofa,
scooped me up in his arms
and covered every inch of my bare skin
with sand-papery-stiff-whisker-stubbled kisses.
“Tootie,”
he said,
“I brought you a special present today.
Wanna open it now?”
“Ohhhhh nooooooo, we can’t.”
I replied
while shaking my head
with grave seriousness.
“We’re having pampakes for breakfast.”
Grandpa broke into loud reverberatingly-deep laughter
jostled me in his arms
and sing-songed
“We’re gonna have us some pampakes for breakfest,
Oh, yes we are. Aren’t we?”
until we reached the breakfast table.
Grandpa repeated this story a gazillion times to me
and to whomever would listen,
throughout the rest of his life.
It was wonderful to me
that I had influenced one of his happy memories.
From that day forward,
especially at breakfast time,
he referred to pancakes
as “Pampakes”
and . . . so did I.
And so do I still.
My gift from Grandpa Bob was a large, creamy-brown teddy bear. I named him Cubby Bear. I related to Cubby and purposely breathed my spirit into him so that he would have a soul. He became my constant companion for the next 8 years, a symbol of my connection to my Grandpa, a symbol of my unwavering love for the Animal Spirits and a comfort to me through much physical sickness and emotional angst.
When Cubby
was called to the ‘Nother Places,’
I grieved the loss of him.
True to form,
I am still grieving.
Five things that are consistantly/habitually and physically present in my daily life are:
1) Coffee
2) Cigarettes
3) Scents/Aroma Therapies and Perfumes (Especially bay rum and mint)
4) Peppermint Gum in my purse
5) The love of all things relating to the Animal Spirits
Grandpa Bob lives on through me in our shared memory.
~G
CYNIC GRATITUDE
When she proclaims
to him
with most serious conviction
that she completely believes
that
“Everything happens for a reason . . .
and in it’s right time,”
He nods,
and smiles
from inside-out
and with only the most subtle
roll of his eyes
affectionately responds
“Yes. . . I know you do.”
~ G
(In gratitude for The Cynic, who lives and loves from the other side of the fence.)
JUST AS SCARED AS YOU
Foot slipped into the saddle
shoe
corrective brace
laced tight
when the movement was felt
inside
she was out of control
and she knew
panic
hysteria
seizure
fright
The Silent Power
appeared from thin air
calming her
quieting
holding her there
untying
removing
the threat
once through
so gently removed the intruder and said
“Honey,
look
it’s but a poor cricket
and he’s just as scared as you.”
(In Memory of my Father)
~G (2012)
NOTE: Because of a bone abnormality I wore leg braces and corrective shoes through my childhood. I also did (and still do) have a phobia relating to insects. This poem reflects an actual memory of one of many occurences in which my father came to my rescue and influenced the reinstatement of my peace of mind. He’s since ceased to resist the changing of form and passed on to the “Nother Places,” but I continue to connect with him daily through precious memory.
“If you reveal your secrets to the wind,
you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees.”
~ Khalil Gibran
THE FIFTH OF NOVEMBER
What better way
to spend her birthday
than peacefully wrapped
in her father’s coat
decorated with spackle, stain and paint
his mixed with hers
drops and spots of creative
endeavors past
steaming cup of cider to her left
CDs of all her past writings to her right
prepared for pending self revelation
every year
on her birthday
a leap of courage moves her
from inside out
and always
he is there with her
Dad
The Silent Power
now passed on to the ‘Nother Places’
reaches ‘crost the grand divide
between here and there
persuading her gently forward
with the sweetness of cider
the warmth of a well worn coat
the colours of life dripped simply
yet intentionally
onto her personal canvas
invitation to the upcoming party
of yet another year.
~G (2012)
PRISM VISITATIONS
Forever connected
through PRISM we’ll be
the sign will be color
that rides upon light
whether brightness of day
or darkness of night
I’ll know that it’s you and
you’ll know that it’s me.
(For my daughter)
~G (November 2012)
“Once she gained a little weight
she feared that she’d looked fat
So she stopped eating food again
And that took care of that.”
~G
Jaqueline Marie
Bouvier , The Cherokee
gave birth to the baby
Ronna Marie
Ronna Marie
was relinquished
to a different family
who promptly named her “G”
G gave birth to Kimberly
(Scott)
who married one
A. Kennedy
evidence that
the Bouviers & Kennedy’s
all relate to me.
~G (2012)
(Family Tree of G)
Aire On G 