Ursula...

It's open link night at  dversepoets.com so there 
is no subject and this is my contribution..

      

 Ursula moves items

from the grocery cart to the counter....

    ...expressionless...

 line behind her..solemn faces all

. until she opens  her mouth

Suddenly, loudly.stating emphatically:

"I've been waiting here for three long days!  

 Now.. finally!!"

 Our eyes meet, holding 2 long seconds,

I smile, reaction intuitive

Unsure of her accent 

I begin to imagine a life, 

...grew up in a small town...in Europe?

..playing on the beach looking for shells, 

doing chores 

....father out to sea..

Pretty school girl, dreams of

becoming a ballerina

perhaps witnessed soldiers fighting

 some distant war...brother among them

Tended wounded men alongside her mother

Then, a sudden loud guffaw

"Ha..hah!"

She looks at stunned others

..then back at me..

Eyes wide, reddish grey hair in curls

 held by a comb

Her gaudy blouse catches in her purse

murmurs under her breath 

opens it for her cash in a bundle,

Pays with another "ha-hah!" and grin

   Coral rings on her finger

match a wide bracelet

 Low black heels and generous figure 

reveal, well, some refinement

Diplomat's wife who served high tea?

or lady of the evening 

throwing tawdry soirees?

 or, secretary scribbling shorthand 9 - 5?

Irked people stare 

hesitant to say anything

She continues to rant of aisles,

merchandise rearranged

"I could have baked a cake, read a book,"

 she exclaims, "in the time I had to 

wait in this damn line?"

I do not take her seriously 

 "How's the arthritis today, Ursula?"

asks the cashier

Face morphing to scowl, she replies

with gusto "It's a bummer; 

wouldn't be so bad if he would lift a finger"

"I cook and slave,

 he's waiting for me to croak!

think I'll divorce his lazy - - - -!"

Another guffaw "Ha ha ah!"

"For all I care he can jump in the lake, 

 not good for a thing!"

Nods her head sideways

indicating where, 

then asks the girl, "Oh did you see the news 

about Prince Harry?

...now that's a hoot!" with a wink

"Thank ye kindly,

hope next time I don't have to 

wait a week!!"

I wanted to say thank you 

for mixing my day with spice

...audacious, friendly conversation

..lacking today

Eyes follow her out the door

.

I want to follow her, 

pick her mind

She looks back at me one last time,

...grinning ear to ear

\as if we have a secret,

\More places to go no doubt,

In the autumn of her life...

it's chapters an interesting read?

I can only guess the truth... 

we all have a story

Fahrenheit 451, why, yes

She might have been an author, 

a dancer

 or a duchess...or maid..

a vagabond....or.....maybe...

even a....

I wonder?

by klr

Place your bet...

I missed the deadline for Saturday's challenge at dversepoets.com  Three times 

a week they offer opportunities to enter your work/poetry...please check out some of the great entries today....we are asked to write about a surprise, something totally unexpected, 

perhaps an epiphany...I decided to post it anyway for fun..

How many Grecian coins in a row? 

It's all rigged I was told

Expect to not win said those in the know

but I felt bold

Din of bells, racket, some cheers 

lady with cigarette hypnotized by screen

Faces blank, reflected in mirrors

only the third time I'd been

20cent, 60cent, $1.00 -

safe bets to play for hours

Modest wins, bigger losses under my collar

What is the chance Zeus shows his powers?

The same way I won, I think I'll get out of debt

But I'm losing now, time to leave
Last 80cents,  one more bet

Machine awakens - wait!! Five Pegasus' leap!!!

Icons spin, scattering windows trigger more

Adrenalin flows; gambling is addicting fun!!!

Loud fireworks
I dance a circle on the floor

Bonus jackpot...oh my God, 
$1000 I won!!!!

by klr

Night train...

Today's prompt from Claudia over at http://dversepoets.com/ is solitude, 

which is something I could write a lot about.  However the first thing that came to mind was a lonely train ride I once took;  I guess it needed to get out of my head and onto paper ( cyberspace?) to be done with it.  You know what I mean, I think.  So it fits, I think into the category satisfactorily.. 

                        by klr

The night train sounds three times,

warning of early betrayal - too late, though,

rolling along 'neath s butter yellow half moon

Tears scorch my cheeks, tickle my collarbone;
my throat chiseled raw, it's hard to swallow the 
revelation at dawn's light

                                                      

Rambling, the train curves round the jungle-lined riverbed 
Feeling swept away like debris, life clings to life

On my way to the cosmic fair, by way of the golden valley,
I see splintered red stained glass, remnants strewn along the tracks,
of broken dreams I came all this distance to only return

Slowing at each small station, the train collected more crocheted hearts

to ride awhile
While the clapping engine hugs mountain slopes, 

I leave new souvenirs I might have dragged home

Motion of the train rocks me into a semi-sleepy state, 
marbled mauve- amber sky creeps into my finished heart
Unwanted, early stars meet my eyes with unfair abandon;

the sun slips under the covers of nightfall's descending steps

Then, I feel invisible hands pushing and pulling me forward,
rushing me into a taxi as I lower my head
It hurries me to the great grey gull of a jet when its hull swallows me
and sharp steel blades of a rudder cut deeper the flesh in my chest,
slicing and shedding it recognizably

Now the air that once carried love letters long distance returns me 

to my former life....in the cavernous night sky, 
I hear the faint whistles of that endless summer receding into my past

First Time outside the U. S...

     dversepoets.com  This week  our challenge over at dversepoets.com is to write about a first time..can be about anything...I was 15..
                                               by klr

I cried riding the bus through the poorer section of town  

After arriving in humid weather por avion,

        oh, how I wanted to go into town

Our meeting place by the fountain, I stood alone

Classroom echos floated to the rosy garden terrace

Each day returning to our host family's home

I fell in love - with everyone, with a country

Senora de Silva, a distinctive widow

        and her three progeny

Cristina the eldest, engaged, working, ready to move

Brother Horatio became my guide (also sneaked kisses in the dark)

Mothers would not approve

But eight year old Berta was indeed a delight

When I was ill in her lap 
        my head she let lie
brought me soup and sang to me 

To spread my wings was exactly what I needed 

free of strict parents just 'to be'

Invited to a huge birthday party
Relatives gathered, we danced and sang 
        laughed, ate hearty

Drank my first tequila from bottle with worm inside

Everything came easily as I studied 

Now all is coming back to my mind

I bought a hand forged candelabra, quite a find
one big grey sombrero covered in grey felt 
        with gold stone design

and dolls for my sisters

I copied the recipes of good food we were fed

and took lots of pictures

We explored museums, beautiful churches, and parks

Every night a parade for a virgin icon

        the smell of corn tortillas and firework sparks

Perhaps because I had three years of Spanish A+ graded

there never was a trace of fear
Mariachis serenaded

Were I could write pages of the people and place

describe food, characters, the full story

        of what I faced

I remember wanting to return year after year
One time I ordered a plate of small trucks instead of shrimp

Misunderstandings could evoke a smile or jeer

Time to leave, I cried and held my roommates hand

Enamored was I with the people, their culture

       their land

Working hard to eke out a living 

where a small upper class ruled
yet people were generous and giving

Awareness of poverty in our world as a young girl

( as well as discrimination), it was acutely felt
       when I saw it for real

I was struck by the humbleness and mirth

of those who welcomed me 

The skies of Jalisco, what an education is worth 

Moody tides...

Fun to put together this little piece of art for Photo Art Friday
this week.  We are asked to write a 7 word sentence that describes our life experience in 
relation to our art or craft..how we became who we are.  And then we must create photo art to illustrate that sentence.  I knew right away what I wanted to do; of course 
it had to include the ocean.  



Without going into a lot of detail, I feel life has coddled me, 
tested me, changed me, molded my talents to the point where they are reaching their 
peak in my (eek) senior years.  True for all of us...as the sand and waves beat the seashore over time,  rocks, shells, sand dollars are smoothed to reveal their true beauty, diamonds their shine.  When discovered 
by human hands, they are treasures with 
ridges and buffed sides, not perfect, but fresh, original, unique.   

If one has natural abilities, all the better, as they will get 
 ahead in life using those skills.  For a lot of us it's about re-discovering creative outlets where 
before there were too many restrictions or other obstacles.  So, like my mother who tried all kinds of vetures later in life after raising four children, I am an
 amateur.  Some of the soaps she created looked like rocks, the Wise Men she made for Christmas
 out of burlap, plaster of paris, pieces of felt and sequins were hilarious  ;-)

 She painted birch trees almost like Grandma Moses and made 
a needlepoint tapestry of animals in a forest, the bunny much larger than the bear and the
 scale of the scene was, well, interesting.  She was a great Girl Scout leader, so we  made all kinds of crafts that she taught us...unusual ones.  She was an avid reader, with a few artists on her side of the family tree. She tried her hand at writing poetry and probably would have been a great photographer had she the technology of today.

So, here I am, like her, finding pleasure in dabbling in 
small projects that might be appreciated by another, or not.  A talent I once wanted to pursue involved a desire to be a doctor + interpreter and work with Albert Schweitzer, but I won't go on....
Have a great weekend!

Symphony...

Returning to  Haiku Heights for this week's word prompt:

Symphony

Turn off lights, close eyes
listen to Rachmaninoff
Transported in Time

  

Ode to the Grands...

For dversepoets.com    this week it is open to anything anyone has written.

This I wrote in 2009 when my grandchildren were ten and seven.  
Not profound, deep or symbolic...just what poured out of me one day...

Ode to the Grands

by klr

Faded amethyst spokes of sun

 peak through the trees 

at twilight hour

If there is a stairway to heaven, 

there's no such place as half-way,

passing nodding flowers

Hanging with the Grands

faces washed by sunshine 

Bless these heavenly days
Chasing rainbows in tall dewy grass

they do not notice

the muted hues turning to haze

Fiercely alive

not missing anything

words to unscramble, bees that sting

Trails follow a throne 

of pine and apple branches

sharing renderings

Making a face, tying a lace

lighting up the sphere 

They study, absorb and teach
Knock-knock jokes, who's there?

How far can I reach?
Future poet or financier?

Colored pencils

sketch their faces in the sky

portraits to preserve innocence
Etchings engraved in my brain,

their curious thoughts impress

Monarchs flutter by

Hearts eager to learn,

baseball comes naturally
tugs of war, pets, responsibility

Compassionate harbingers,

there time will come to consider 

the problems of man

A lighthouse beacon guides them 
with love and praise
safely across the bridge of time

High roads to travel

Be true to yourselves and brave, 
the key is to try well 

Days of green silk ribbons pass

Roses and more roses climb,

small hands in clay

Agile, blithe paradigms

 they'll love and have children,
 dance under moonlight one day

Tender gifts of surprise embraces,
reflections of familiar faces
Kindred spirits pure and simple
lavished upon my heart,

special gifts of art
They have their mother's dimple 

Delight in secret moments ,

treasures unimagined long ago

sealed like oil on canvas

Silver aquamarine paths, stones of gold

are after all but footsteps 
that bring angels 
- to my table

~

Autumn ..

Sharing with dVersepoets.com    Saturday's challenge to write about the current season:

Autumn of Life

Jigsaw puzzle, some chairs, table, lamp by the window -
Outside, nature's changes..how many shades of pink, orange in God's palette?
Saffron skies, rows of rippled clouds shaped like puffed white rice
  Ever changing canvas, deepening shades of azure blue meeting mango orange layers at the horizon, plum gold rays shoot from the sun.

Leaves fall...mini masterpieces, tiny sunsets painted on them  
float as tiny canoes in the stream..
September, when covenants of love are sealed, landscapes of the heart
  defined by woody meadows, rushing water, turning trees and 
unknown possibilities..

Recall years of walking into each new month with hope -
Fall, when the moon with the friendly face was as big as the entire sky 
A bright yellow sun illuminated cooler evenings, lanterns for paths that lead between 
home and everyplace else...
Paper thin leaves show tired veins, no more blankets of grass with tiny white daisies 
Forgotten years..forgotten laughs and tears.  
Sharpe edges of the heart smoothed over time, arms wrapped in another's..
long walks across the footbridge pushed my heart over the edge.  
Each day begins an extended portal of time, indefinitely suspended as day 
breaks and later retires.

Inside, roaring firelight, blankets, pillows piled high in a corner -
 Winds knock, windows welcome the storm, murmurs of choir voices singing Mozart,
Rain bombards the shutters, horizontal neon comets streak, leave a trail of phosphorescence. 
 Chimney smoke circles, ascends, aroma of logs burning.
Recall fair share of past paths walked, long shadows lead into night..
 white hot embers still burn..
Roasted chestnuts, contented smiles, glasses of Pinot Noir
 Good books, intimate conversations, boots, mittens and berry picking 
Kids, holidays, wool sweaters, socks  
for kite flying weather.

To be a child again, jumping into a high pile of raked leaves -
 sloshing in wide deep puddles, school.
Rosy cheeks, frosty air, playing until dark, not a care in the world..

Nostalgia sweeps over at the call of the loons.
Time envelopes us...we want carte blanche, to turn back the clock
 spin cartwheels again, go to the sock hop
But continuous change is all we know...
therefore spring is not far removed
 Unfold your heart, become one with the seasons, store more memories..
Reside in nature's bosom

..

Photo Art Friday...hand blown glass hummingbird..

Reflection... hand blown glass hummingbird light catcher..

Linking with Photo Art Friday....suggestion of "movement"...  

Common Threads...Same Debate...

For Open Link night at dversepoets.com I am sharing what
 I wrote after the opening of the Democratic Convention last night, as past meets present meets future.  I hope all parties can agree on some things....

Convention hats, red white blue

Sea of hopeful tried true and new faces

remind me of Adlai, McGovern, and JFK, 

my last high school debate, bygone races

Poignant reminders of "Coming Home"

Hot summer day protests cooled by hoses
I wore my navy cardigan to the podium

to argue those whose view I opposed 

 Smart ladies have broken the mold
Last night they gave awesome addresses

Mindful was I of '64, fiercely debating 
the Vietnam war as senseless

Then history repeats itself 40 years later
 Minds struggled to grasp for reason
Warned the enemy was dressed to kill  
 murder via the drill or treason?

World sent in a tailspin

Resonate speech by Bobby's prodigy

On stage again, promises of one family

Young minority candidates dot the scene

To carry the torch of our destiny

Pungent odors of musky convention floors

bind with a sense of deja vu' 

This generation can turn the corner and succeed 
where we only broke through

No more needless wars that benefit few

rob us of our youth, consume all energy
Scenes at Kent State, a church in Alabama

perhaps instrumental in who delivered the key? 

For those who marched with Martin,
for names engraved on a wall sacrificed
we must heed the words of our First Lady  
Their worth measured, realized

The teacher paced in back of the classroom
rubbed his chin with his finger, nodding to agree
forced us to think, argue current events

I advocated transparency

 Since 2000 I grieve innocent millions lost 

I hung on for dear life to see the day

  we made history by electing a new Captain 
of our ship with a new communique'

Cities to rebuild, confidence to restore
 opportunities to make  
business doors to reopen
Laws and values to re-evaluate

 "Lessons learned, move forward"
There is truth to revive
new growth, better health care
  Encourage new dreams to thrive  

No doubt a gift for us to share

 with a united world
orchestrated by His hand so one day
 only Global flags may 
unfurl

by klr