Wednesday, September 26, 2012


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

 Ursula moves items
from the grocery cart to the counter....
 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 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 among them
Tended wounded men alongside her mother
Then, a sudden loud guffaw

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? 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

Monday, September 24, 2012

Place your bet...

I missed the deadline for Saturday's challenge at  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

Friday, September 21, 2012

Night train...

Today's prompt from Claudia over at Poets Pub 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 the cavernous night sky, 
I hear the faint whistles of that endless summer receding into my past

Sunday, September 16, 2012

First Time outside the U. S...  This week  our challenge over at is to write about a first time..can be about anything...I was 15..
    dVerse Poets Pub                                           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 

Friday, September 14, 2012

Moody tides...

Photo Art Friday

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 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 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 
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!

Thursday, September 13, 2012


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


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


Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Ode to the Grands...

For  dVerse Poets Pub  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


Sunday, September 9, 2012

Autumn ..

Sharing with dVerse Poets Pub   Saturday's challenge to write about the current season:

Autumn of Life

Jigsaw puzzle, some chairs, table, lamp by the window -
Outside, nature's 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 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


Saturday, September 8, 2012

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

Reflection... hand blown glass hummingbird light catcher..
Linking with Photo Art Friday....suggestion of "movement"...  
Photo Art Friday

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Common Threads...Same Debate...

dVerse Poets Pub

For Open Link night at 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 

by klr