Sunday, May 19, 2013


Our job was sorting mail -
overtime at Christmas
3 shifts, crews rotated 
designated work areas 
where machines now 
labor to move the mail 
Hank was about to retire;
Japanese, always solemn, 
rarely spoke
Micho's sweet smile -
never used a day of sick leave
in her career,
she loved to talk about
her prize winning chrysanthemums
Benita was a new hire,
from the Philippines
dearly missed her family
Harry was also Japanese, 
always had a fresh remark,
harmless banter, joking was his style
Martha, my coworker  - 
graveyard shift, single mother of
4,  black,  full of vigor,
hilarious company
Jerry worked every day with me
at the registry, 
selling stamps, 
accepting valuable packages
He had arrived from Vietnam in the 70's; 
we worked well together, 
had a system, an understanding
We were productive , efficient,
had happy customers
Victor, his brother, worked in the back -
loaded mail on the trucks
He had a way with people -
put them in their place without
their realizing it,
never said a negative word
Sue made beautiful Chinese silk screen
Maria and her husband Luis,
hard workers from Mexico, 
she worked till she gave birth
right there in the elevator
Some liked to gossip, 
some were slackers,
but they were the minority...
Once a month 
we brought potluck  -
food was delicious and varied
from Hawaiian barbecue, stir fry, 
beans and enchiladas, 
chow mien, Thai, duck feet, 
egg rolls, sushi, macaroni & cheese,  
casseroles, lumpia,  adobo - 
chicken in 
one hundred different ways..
breads, cakes, and pies 
potpourri of desserts 

My neighbor two doors down 
is a Bonsai expert, 
has a pagoda garden
Sam across the street is Burmese -
He and his Vietnamese wife, 
May, adopted little David,
a Chinese boy
A Samoan family lived on the corner,
moved when their kids graduated
I can't forget Lee
who lives next door to me
She's an attorney, teaches English,
takes care of many 
of her native Korean elderly
26 families in this cul-de-sac
An Englishman and his wife 
The rest of us are mongrels -
European ancestors 
Me...I'm mostly Irish 
and we didn't get along 
with Italians, and others 
who immigrated to the US, first
We are different in customs,
 in ways we approach life 
and family issues, 
but we are basically the same
in the truly important ways
We help each other, 
respect each other's 
background, privacy; 
we are a cross section of the USA,
melting pot of individuals 
with  lives that play out 
in every day events that
 inspire understanding,
optimal living for all
in the same community 
No need for running interference
between parties -
We are enriched by sharing, 
exchanges stories,
watching each other's kids 
play and grow.  
Born of this diversity is 
Education tears down  
real or imagined barriers
If only the world would 
catch up, follow suit, 
fall into the same pattern,
continue in the same vein,
To have world peace one day -
acquaint the ancient 
with the new
To live together in harmony
We are all part of God's rainbow
with different shades of skin;
our offspring's offspring
will live in an era 
of co-mingled DNA, but we have
a long way to go to solve the
age old problems 
of hunger, hostility 
reaching across all 
Kelvin has asked us to write about anything Asian, spurred by insensitive racial remarks made on his blog.  He lives in the Philippines.. we all have experiences with Asian culture, cuisine, friends, or art,,it will be interesting to see what is written about in poetry last post before I take leave.

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Isn't there a song about a "Wooden Heart"?

...wrote this before I knew the theme for today  for Meeting the Bar 
at  dVerse  which is volition and velleity.  I think it works in it's own way ;)

Our eyes locked in passing
you introduced yourself -
You sat beside me, comforted me
then asked me to dance
The touch of your lips was magic 
You touched me with your strong hands,
took me home and didn't want to leave
You came back to me
again and again -
I thought I died when it ended 
but, I healed 
Other nice men
came into my life;
In passing through
they had the same effect on me,
the presence felt right
as did his hand in mine
He said he wanted to spend the rest of
his life with me - 
but there was less holding time,
only wishful thinking on my part
 - he said he wouldn't let me go, 
so I felt I'd take the leap, 
if it weren't for my heart
He reminded me of you -
familiar feelings
because of how I was wooed 
We danced the Tango,
but it was not the same -
He treated me
with respect that took my fear away
wanted to settle down 
But we did not marry,
as friends the foundation was laid
for something permanent
but I had to let him go
to live his life without me -
He would have committed, 
I realize now
I don't feel anything
except when I watch movies
like "Under the Tuscan Sun",
or "The Way We Were"
when I feel all there is 
to feel in 2 hours
until the end
and be done,
It's me in love, it's me pining, 
I am making passionate 
love on the screen
Only I'm not risking my heart
like before,
just playing the part 
I know so well 
Kiss me not -
if you do not intend to stay
don't ask me to dance unless you feel
something real and true
Don't  expect anything of me
and I won't of you
Please, lets not -
spare us the pain
... then I wonder...

For those who read this, know that I am indebted to you all for 
visiting and reading my sorely penned poetry; of all the posts I've put out, there 
are some very special ones that stick out in my mind and I wish them to be regarded for 
"what I am capable of creating" and their quality - not with the goal of accumulating 'views'. Beginning now and through the entire month of June,  I will be immersing myself in business 
and medical matters that need my attention and helping my daughter move into a larger 
home well as getting work done on my own home.
Therefore, the writing, blogging, reading and commenting will not be my main focus.  
In fact,  I was waylaid this week with organization issues that prevented me from catching up 
with reading poetry over at which couldn't help.  It is not 
fair to post and run like I did.

What I post, if anything, will be intermittent poems or photos
They and my blog will have to stand on their own merit for awhile - as I will NOT be 
contributing to any prompts or memes, unable to hold up my end as a committed poetry
 group member, as one needs to be. I will be reading as time allows, but want to let 
you know my time will be very limited. 
  As much as I would like it to not be so, this is a necessary step.  I will see what happens 
on this hiatus; whether the blog will survive, evolve, or whatever changes might be 
made are unknowns to me at this time.  No big mystery, just needing the 
break, as we all do from time to time. ;-)  
Have a great rest of May and June!!  I'll be checking back of all  my friends 
and followers, especially those at, I love you!    Kathy ~


Tuesday, May 14, 2013

A rare visit....

Impressed with the white peacock at a visit to our local "Old Goats Farm" in Orting WA, I was moved to write about her.  I was unable to get a good photo while there, so this is not the actual gal I saw, but very similar.  It's Open Link Night at    

She perches above the heavenly berm,

a silent mossy clover landing place,
mistress of woodland's trillium and fern
Shaded glens where she preens 
her billowy lace skirt of feathers
flowing away from 
her gracefully turned bosom and torso,
onto the goat mowed lawn, blue-green;
freely roaming it's gardens-
mixed blasts of colorful blooms
lean into waving purple blues 
of columbine and iris

Knotted trees magically anchor

the ground against nature's chartreuse
and blue-grey leaves,
Birdsong spans the air 
as she glides
in her training white down comforter 
wedding gown

Crested on her temple, 
bobbling antennae attest
to her 'everyday a queen' countenance -
quail-like face and modest neck 
suggest delicate elegance -
belied by her shrill shriek
as she calls to her mate
She spreads her half moon
ornate plumage for show, 
proudly signalling coded messages
with every multiplied eyed feather

Legend has it she descended
from Venus as 
guardian and protector - 
A flightless breed,
she nests 
according to the rains
She's poetry in motion - 
All season webbed feet to rely on,
she parades the landscape 
in view of her fellow constituents
to the other side of the farm -
five baby black ducklings lie low;
an admiring sapphire 
male peafowl
awaits her
 I gaze upon her as she unfurls her 
huge fan,
She honors us
in all her leucistic pageantry

Friday, May 10, 2013

Tinker, tenor, carpenter...

Tony over at introduces us to Terza Rima - Italian three form poetry for Thursday's Form

for all..perhaps this needs a do over..what think?

  Emotions of the past are presently
  frayed, stirring, slowly unraveling
  pulling apart my full heart pensively

  I need strength to meet affairs of the day

  Life's joys, sorrows are an open letter,
   memoirs of lifetime's task to find my way

  I'm a multi-hued heavy knit sweater

  Warming life's wheels, changing plugins, trappings
  the attitude of a reaching tenor

  - and the spirit of a tinker tapping

  Should I build more spring nests for fall's cold rains?
    Tired of slander, hammering lies' rapping

  Experience distills for memory's sake

  Forever sails unfurl, my soul to send
 Learning to be alone before end's take

  Let salt of the ocean the spirit mend

  Leave immortal foot paths in dark blue skies
  It's ironic for after all one lends

  to life,  love, raising  and building good lives,
 We lose life, all we have; all truth arrives

Thursday, May 9, 2013

June Cleaver's Mother's Day ..

June Cleaver - ideal "Mom" in 1953
permed hair, lipstick on her 
morning cup of Maxwell House coffee
 adjusting Ward's tie, 
fixing box lunches for Wally and Beav
And so her routine began,
she wore dresses mid calf length
Mrs. Congeniality;
but we never saw the worst 
it could be -
no burnt bacon, dirty house,
no clutter, wrestling a vacuum
only dialog squeaky clean 
Stories revolved around
 the family's
 idiosyncrasies -
boys given to mischief 
and growing pains,
Life's problems simply 
were not complex -
Norman Rockwell model family
as if no bigger issues
existed in reality  
As in the Ozzie & Harriet Nelson
show, lessons were taught -
right, wrong, what how and why,
taking the higher road,
molded by morals 
of an era gone by
where underneath sleeping embers
complex carbons 
of truth do lie
We knew Beaver's buck teeth,
 Wally quite the good looking guy,
supporting players 
let us sympathize in comedy
We loved Lumpy's 
Eddie Haskel's supposed 
juvenile delinquency
perspective reveals -
real lives don't compare,
with fantasy except in dreams 
and on TV