The Sucker Punch of Summer

"Day Dream"  Photography of Thomas Dodd

Linking with Toni's wonderful Wed Muse ~Cicadas  

She also gave the choice of writing about the end of summer, or rebirth.  

Come join us!

The sun tires of summer and sighs itself into autumn. ~Terri Guillemets

It almost feels like being strangled

When the Texas summer heat takes hold

It hits you like a drunken sailor

One gut punch after another

All you can do is lay down

And try to recover

Soon it will leave

Slower than it barged in

But then we can breathe a sigh of relief

And pull out our sweaters

And write outdoors in comfort.

Friends, Sisters, Mothers

Linda and me Christmas 2017

Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one. ~Jane Howard

When I first met my first husband’s ex-wife, Linda Keen Thackeray, one could say the whole situation was quite complicated.  These kinds of meetings are always awkward, filled with preconceived ideas, and hard feelings.  No one is enthused to meet their ex’s new love interest.  It was awkward, and it did not get off to a perfect start, but in essence it was not all that complicated, in fact it was quite simple.  It was the beginning of one of the most important relationships of my life. 

Once we got past the initial first couple of meetings, we gradually developed a friendship.  When she would bring the kids for the weekend, since we did not have a car at the time, she would take me to the store, and we would discuss our mutual friend; her ex, my boyfriend.  It always led to some laughter, and quite a few “Oh yes, I know exactly what you mean” comments.  I am certain that he was not always over joyed over us spending time together, at least in the beginning.   He knew it meant he was the subject, and that could probably be a bad thing for him. 

As years passed, our relationship grew.  We were not just simple friends, we were family.  We had 3 children that looked to us as parents.  Of course, she was Mom number 1, and the love of their lives, and I understand that.  Being a very insecure person, it was not always an easy fact for me to acknowledge, but through the years, I have learned to embrace it.  No one can ever replace a true mom, and she has always been a wonderful one. 

It has been 36 years since those first few meetings back in 1982.  We have been through some wonderful times and some very devastating losses.  She has been a true friend, a shoulder to cry on, a listening ear and the true essence of what family truly is.  We have truly defied the odds of what family means and what can truly be successful.  When you have two people that are kind and caring then anything is possible.  We have been blessed to see that first hand, and it is a true gift that has passed from one generation to another.

I love you Linda Keen!  Thank you for being a true friend, sister and the best co-mother ever!

Rocken' It

Linking with Wed Muse # 4 for Toni's prompt ~Busy Body

Today Toni is talking about being busy and asking us, what do we do to rest?

Come join us!

“SOMETIMES, I GUESS THERE JUST AREN’T ENOUGH ROCKS.”  ~ Forrest Gump

Prologue

I have the good fortune to work at a library, but it is not any ordinary library, it resides inside a beautiful botanical garden.  We provide different programs to the public for all ages, and many of these are crafty fun projects that have to do with nature.  Recently we had a rock painting craft.   All my co-workers and I have taken such a liking to it, most of us do it in our spare time.  I have found it to be quite relaxing!  Therefore, when I am home and in my comfy PJs cause that is the only way I roll; comfortable, I sit at my second desk, a card table in my writing/ art room, and paint rocks.  I am not very good at it, but it does not seem to stop me.  I love doing it anyway!

Naked with the beauty God gave you

You lay before me

Resting under my awkward grace

My brush strokes you blue

Until you are a true star

You wink and give a kiss with rouge lips

 and my brush rests in its dixie cup pool

now you dance upon eyes

cause you are ready to rock!

Greeting Harold

Image Source

Today I am writing a bit of prose for a wonderful new prompt over at Poets United: Telling Tales with Magaly Guerrero a Pantry of Prose # 1.  This prompt will post on the first Sunday of every month, and Magaly wants us to put our prose on.  We always have until Tuesday evening, so come join us!

Greeting Harold,

It was cold on earth where Willa waited for her next assignment.  Harold a Caucasian male with 46 earth years, was due to arrive any minute.  He had been in a coma for weeks from head trauma from a beating he endured in an alley way, but his time to enter the new realm was today.

 

Being a soul greeter was an important and delicate responsibility.  Willa in all her smallness of spirit had been holding this great task for centuries, and at times it could seem overwhelming.

Her last greeting was a lady named Loraine who was a lonely soul with no family and her story was a sad one.  She had become a hoarder; keeping everything her hands touched.   Ironically, she had died from a fire in the night, trying to re-enter the home to salvage everything she felt she could not live without.  It took quite a while before she was ready to move on to the other side.

As Willa thought of  Loraine she could see Harold edging before her.    He was a mirror image of his former body, yet different, he appeared before her in all his knowing and confusion wrapped together like braided hairs.  Harold had been a homeless man with nothing to his name including respect.  In the hospital he had been John Doe # 37, but now his identity was known.  Harold L. Bowers, son of a senator, oldest brother, and a man who had been a lawyer before he lost everything to addiction.

“Greetings Harold”, she said as she reached out her spirit toward his.  He fell into her like a weary man plopping into the most comfortable chair he had ever known.  Willa’s spirit smiled.  Most soul’s wanted to go back, and could not bear to leave behind all they had known, but not Harold.  Willa found that greeting souls was always a lesson in some way for the new arrival, but today the lesson was hers to hold.

Click HERE to see the poem that inspired it.

The Ripples in the Water Push Outward

Digital artwork by Catrin Welz-Stein

Linking with Poets United for the Midweek Motif ~ Climate Change

brought to us by Susan

Come join us!

Never does nature say one thing and wisdom another. ~Juvenal, Satires

Everything has an effect on something

The ripples in the water push outward

The sun can burn

Plants can die

The rain can flood

Trees swept away

The wind can destroy

What man has made

For cowardice can kill a man

And complacency can kill many

If the runners at the back try to run to the exit door, the ones in front get trampled upon

The same is true for nature and man

If the ones that came before us do not think about our existence

Then the ones that come later will reap the affects in some way

Everything we do has an outcome

The ripples in the water push outward

Be it good or be it bad

All things must be considered

And nothing left to chance

The future is in our hands!

©Carrie Van Horn 2019

The Gift of Sight

"Girl on the Boat"  by William Oxer


Linking with Poets United for the Mid Week Motif ~ Charity, and The Sunday Muse for Muse # 19



The Brain – is wider than the Sky 
~Emily Dickinson

The first time I saw her it was at the Smith’s Cafe 2 miles from the marina.  It took me 3 texts, two eggs over easy, and most of my coffee before I realized she was blind.  She reached out and was touching the face of the man beside her, who I thought must have been a husband or dear friend.  At first I thought it was a moment of endearment but when she rose to walk away I realized her eyes looked passed him like head lights on high beam reaching to the farthest point.  Her hand rested on his shoulder as she followed his lead around the tables and out the door so trustingly like it was a dance she had done a million times before.  The vision of it was imprinted on my heart.  I could never trust another person that way.

The second time I saw her was at the botanic gardens.  She had a white cane, and seemed to know exactly where she was going down those stone walk way steps.  I found myself following her in fascination.  She had more confidence in her steps than I ever have.  How could someone with such limits be so sure and determined on their path?  I stayed behind her all the way to Dove Meadow Lake.   For a while I felt incline to stop her.  Did she not realize she was heading to open waters?  To my astonishment she made it all the way to the dock.  “Mam, excuse me Mam?” I called out with a certain urgency.  She stopped slowly like a long train.  “Charity”, she spoke out.  “Charity?” I recited back, not sure what she was implying.  “Charity Johnson” she added, “My name is Charity!” “Oh hi Charity I just wanted to make sure you did not step off into the water.”  “God has my back, and my ears have my eyes, but thank you” she said with a deliberate politeness.  As she spoke the words she also stepped into the boat at the end of the dock.

 All the while I had followed closer and closer behind her, and almost lost my composure when she got right into the boat like it was a common task in her day.  I stood by the lake for a while, bewildered and silent, when suddenly her voice called out, “would you like to join me?”  “In the boat?” I asked, certain it sounded even worse spoken out loud.  “Of course” she replied with a smile that I could almost hear.  “Ok”, was my final answer as I carefully stepped down beside her, and for the rest of the afternoon I was her eyes, and truly she was also mine! 

©Carrie Van Horn 2019

True Grit True Pearls True Beauty

"At the end of your life, you will never regret not having passed one more test, not winning one more verdict or not closing one more deal.  You will regret time not spent with a husband, a friend, a child or a parent."

~ Barbara Pierce Bush  June 8, 1926 - April 17, 2018

Her life had such an impact on many some near and others far

like a stone cast upon a river that ripples out

 from one generation to another and heart to heart

We knew her our whole lives a figure in papers and on the TV screen

always upholding honesty and integrity a giver and mentor to hopes and dreams

She will be missed greatly but her legacy is alive and ever strong

for when one gives and teaches so many

it shall inspire for decades and centuries long.

©Carrie Van Horn 2019

Meaningful Conversations

Photo Credit

Linking with Imaginary Gardens for the Tuesday Platform and The Sunday Muse
Come join us!


Ideas, like ghosts (according to the common notion of ghosts), must be spoken to a little before they will explain themselves... ~Charles Dickens


I never believed in ghosts as a child
even though my grandmother seemed to
 have meaningful conversations with them
I told God early "never give me that gift!"
as if it was something that I had a say in
now that I am older
I long for the proof of it
a glimpse of something unseen
a testimony that is louder
than the possible vague siting
on some show on TV
I dare you to walk through me
wake me up at night
with the moan from a thousand lost cares
speak to me
I will listen
I will believe now
your story will live on
and it will be true poetry.

©Carrie Van Horn 2019

A Lovely Poet

Courtesy Google Images

Autumn writes her own poetry,

we are merely observers.

~Terri Guillemets


Click here for more about Autumn

(Yes you are being sent on a wild goose chase!)

Her Name is Easter

Photo Credit

Linking with Imaginary Gardens for The Tuesday Platform Imagined by Kerry

It is the hour to rend thy chains,
The blossom time of souls.
~Katherine Lee Bates

Her name is Easter and she is full of grace

she quickly glides to kiss each and every face

as she dances a dance even the awkward know

for she longs to dance with every living soul.

Her garments are always flowing and miles long

so all can touch it's true fabric and always hold on.

The perfume she wears is renewal's new rose

and all who come near her long to stay close.

Now when Easter is near us her voice becomes clear

and the song that she sings is a choir all can hear.

So touch her and in song let your voice raise

for her name is Easter and she if full of grace.

©Carrie Van Horn 2019