Manga Popart Butterfly

Manga Popart Butterfly

Monday, June 26, 2017

Dear God,

Thank you for making flowers.
They keep me up and going
with their care.

Moonflowers for night
and Roses for day help
heal my broken body.

The scent of herbs: mints
especially can lift me clear up
to the thinnest clouds in olfactory delight.
These little things are the green threads
that bind my weary, broken, heart
and keep it beating, beating, beating...

We are all alone,
so alone & hurting.

When there is no one
to help bind our
broken spirits...
we simply vanish. Another's word
of encouragement can
cut the deepest sorrow
into halves---
Hundreds of mean, nasty, foul
words have injured my spirit
and my soul.  I am broken beyond repair.

Why, God?  So many why's in my life.

My husband of decades is
breaking, broken, sick,
slowly losing his way.
He wakes in the present &
with sunset comes the past
as real to him as his torn brain.
But, in his time travel, he always
lands in the worst year of our marriage,
35 years ago...and thinks it was yesterday
& reacts accordingly.
My heart bleeds for him, but
I can't take much more
abuse...those deep, cutting words never heal.

I'm living with a man acting like a
rebellious adolescent & I don't know if it's
his broken brain or just meanness.
He's seeing his doctor soon...
I just hope it's not too late.

Lonely girl in a
cold, uncaring world
listening, listening,
straining to hear
Your healing voice.


Wednesday, June 7, 2017

Saturday, June 3, 2017

Wednesday, May 31, 2017

Dear Diary,


Delicate purple striped blossoms
on strong, slender stalks,
soon to become indigo eggplants;
a bee in a sunshine yellow squash blossom,
bee-yellow, drenched in pollen; a royal violet Morning Glory,
it's tiny godlight shining brightly;
my garden, wild(!), wild(!) with new growth;
tomatoes, peppers, squash and beans...beans(!)

I tell you

it is all too much, too much---

May, you fertile, fecund bitch,
thank you, thank you, thank you!


Sunday, May 28, 2017

Dear Sunday,

You arrived, weeping---
your soft tears gave new life to
four Moonflower seeds.


Saturday, May 27, 2017

Dear Diary,

Were it not for the flowers,
& the blue dragonflies
I'd be long gone.


Wednesday, May 10, 2017

Dear Morning:

I wake with these lyrics
going round and round my head:

"And the days go by
like a strand in the wind
in the web that is my own
I begin again..."  ~Stevie Nicks, 'Edge of Seventeen'

I put the coffee on, then
head out the back sliding
glass doors to the patio.

The morning dew glistens on the 
freshly cut grass and
dragonflies dip and sip
like flying jewels,
wings sparkling
in the new day's sun.

I am present for this moment.
I'm alive and I see.
What more is there?

I water the garden.
The Bush Beans are
leaning, reaching
toward the rising sun.
The Squash blossoms 
vibrate with yellow-ness.
The Tomato leaves 
generously release
their unique fragrance---

The Catalpa tree
drops a blossom at
my dew-covered bare feet.
I look up...there are no blossoms
anywhere on the old tree.
A gift, this little Orchid-like
flower.  Thank you, tree.

Birdsong surrounds me,
a chorus of life and joy.

Thank you, Morning,
for your generous gifts.