is it bragging…

yep…. Read the rest of this entry »


It’s OK

Not really a poem, but I like the spacing of poetry. Not really advice for I know nothing I say will ever help anyone. But I have learned that we don’t need to battle doubt alone. Read the rest of this entry »


mosquito – poem

In which it is discovered a broken hand one day out of the splint is not quite healed. Read the rest of this entry »


scanning

One more scan, less than five minutes on the table while the MRI whirrs around you. The tech is friendly, she is a cancer survivor and we compare scars. “Who’s your surgeon, Donzelli? Mine too, isn’t he just the best.” All done, then it’s off to wait.

Today a call, “We found a brain, and no masses”. If only I had this evidence of a brain when my daughters were teens. They would never have believed it.


matcha and memories

I wrote a poem, originally posted at my fiction blog as a writing prompt for Madison Woods. Read the rest of this entry »


6 month checkup

It is six months after my surgery, about 4 months after the radiation and I just had a followup with the surgeon. Everything seems on target until January when they test again. The spots that hurt even now are just healing, and that will continue for some months more. That’s a relief.

So all things considered, life is pretty good. I have ridden my bicycle about 932 miles since January, would be a 1,000 but for a nasty cold and sinus infection I am fighting. If you have sent me good thoughts and prayers, thanks I appreciate it. And I always appreciate your stopping by.
I plan to keep working out, eating well, and continuing to get stronger.

bw


haiku moon beams

Read the rest of this entry »


comfort zone

Can I risk to love you, and open up my heart
trust you, like the surgeon placing  sterile ice
to quell each rhythmic contraction,
artery and valve repaired and let the beating start.

How could I trust some surgeon more than you,
when with eyes closed, I can trace each subtle
curve that makes you whole and real to me,
find the outline of your smile, the sweetness of your lips.

Shall this healing act begin with sunlight and curtains wide
fingertips your hand in mine, and laughter bubbling, rising
to the surface of the spring of youth that you and I have shared
we will tiptoe near the shore, snaring every moment that is there

Let not our love be needy, as we, no longer children, know
that in fusion of our souls, we cannot grow
but instead with independent strength in love as all we do
lets us smile and say to all, I choose you.


sparrows and broken wings

I would be intimate with you,
and know your soul
but you dance away on gossamer wings
to protect your heart

Let my arms enfold you
and still your fears
we will gently sway from side to side
in this dance of life

I will release you
and shed a tear
when you are strong and trust in love
without regret

Too passive… lets try again…

Let me love you,
and know your soul
but you dance away on gossamer wings
to protect your heart

My arms enfold you
and still your fears
we gently sway from side to side
in this dance of life

I will release you
and shed a tear
when you are strong and trust in love
without regret


turning points

The alarm is silent, waiting silently like a pitiless thief who would steal my rest from me, but I am already awake.  Alone in this large house,  I move softly in the moonlight that seeps in above my curtains.   As silly as it seems, I realize  that my quiet steps are just echoing the natural rhythm  of the world, gentle and at peace.

Naked, I step on the scale.   It warrants a wry smile, no getting fat when even chocolate tastes like metallic mud.

I step into the shower, and pull the curtain closed and let the warm water cascade down my body,  each drop a tiny micro switch activating my nerves and bringing me awake and alive.

My mind wanders, and I am back in time at the Front Row Theatre in Cleveland with its rotating stage.  Harry Chapin is singing Taxi.  That theatre is long gone, and it is so long ago I don’t recall my date, it could have been P_ or D_.  The melody teases me and moves through my mind from lobe to lobe like a serpent as the water runs over my contours and off me in rivulets.  It builds and has to erupt, loud and strong:

Oh, I’ve got something inside me,
To drive a princess blind.
There’s a wild man, wizard,
He’s hiding in me, illuminating my mind.

I sing it again and again, and then with my own words until it feels as if it must shake the house. It plays out like a fish bowing to the irresistible power of  rod and reel, the water trickles to a stop and I step out humming and reach for the towel.