Family Portrait

Family Portrait

I wonder why it is that:

Roger has to sneeze;

Grandpa starts to wheeze;

Mary closes her eyes;

The baby screams and cries;

Jillian makes a face

at Francine (who stole her space!);

Mom's upset 

because her hair is mussed;

while Aunt Sally 

has primped and fussed;

and Randy and Ryan squabble

over who sits in the chair with a wobble...

Just as the photographer says,

"Now everyone look at me, please."

"Smile pretty and say, 'Cheese!'"
"One, two, three..."

SNAP!

And then there we are, in all our glory,

one small piece of our family's story.

Preserved so future generations can see

just how many nuts are in the family tree.

Lilacs and Love

Lilacs and Love

"Nothing says spring like a lilac breeze,"
Mom closed her eyes, smiled, and sighed.
The scent would come drifting in,
with curtains billowing and windows wide.

My mother gathered them by the armful,
bunches of lilac blooms with a fragrance that was heaven sent.
She took them to my grandma every Mother's Day,
sharing her love, showing her gratitude,
knowing how much it meant.

She loved lilacs too, my mother did,
and she was glad we had plenty to spare.
It doubled her joy for them, I think,
knowing she was able to share.

Grandma would bury her nose in the lilacs,
and breathe in the heady scent too.
She arranged them carefully in a milk glass vase,
and there was one thing I always knew.

Grandma loved me, and my mom did too,
so fierce and wide and deep.
Remembering those lilacs they shared
is a memory I'll always keep.

Forever the sight of a lilac bush,
or the hint of its fragrance in the air,
will remind me of those two ladies before me,
who had lilacs and love to spare.

*   *   *    *   *

This poem is from the book, Old Broads Waxing Poetic, copyright © 2014 Julie Kemp Pick and Susan Flett Swiderski.

This poem is a repost. There are several new readers here who haven't seen this, so I am posting it, with apologies to those readers who have followed my blog for a while and remember it. I hope you don't mind a rerun.

Above is a photo from about 35 years ago of my mom on the left, my grandmother in the middle, and me on the right.     

  Happy Mother's Day to all!  

Sudoku

Sudoku

Finish the grid to exercise your brain.

It's a fun diversion 

when you're cooped up by rain.

Write each number in every line,

by row and column, every number, 

from one to nine.

Fill every block, each three by three.

No repeats  - check and see.

Each grid, like each line, 

must contain all nine.

No math is needed, but...

rules of logic must be heeded. 

Have some fun, 

spend a little time.

Then, to be like me, 

turn the subject 

into a rhyme.

 Learn about Sudoku.

Secrets

Secrets

Some secrets are good and well-intentioned,
like a birthday party--SURPRISE!
Others are more on the shady side,
like when somebody has something to hide.

Some secrets are heavily guarded.
Trouble strikes if they're revealed.
You've been forewarned...you'll regret it,
if those secrets aren't kept sealed.

For example: the government 
likes to keep its secrets under lock and key.
And watch out if you let spill
a woman's age, or weight, or family recipe!

Other secrets are gleefully spread,
especially about those who are famous or rich.
Splashed on the internet in celebrity gossip columns:
rumors or truth? It's hard to guess which.

I know a secret.
Do you want me to tell it to you?
Can you keep it quiet?
Can you? Can you?
You can?
Well, guess what...I can too!

Nightmare

Nightmare

I hate waking up from a drifting dream
where things aren't always as they seem.
Where the tick-tock from a clock
becomes an evil stranger's knock.
And someone I thought about during the day
is acting in a peculiar way.
He's invading my thoughts while I slumber.
How does he know me? How'd he get my number?
I'm late. I'm lost. I don't know anyone here.
I'm sound asleep and full of fear.
I'm in a hazy state of confusion.
Is this real, or is it illusion?
I'm in a maze. I'm falling, falling.
Wait! Stop! Stop! I hear someone calling.
"Wake up. Wake up. You're having a dream."
I try to focus. I can't move my feet. 
I'm groggy. I realize I'm tangled in the sheet.
"You're OK, sweetie," you say. "I'm right here."
I wake up and see your familiar face so near.
I try to gather my wits about me.
What is real and what is fantasy?
I hate waking up from a drifting dream
where things aren't always as they seem.
How can there be so much chaos in my head,
when I am safe at home and snug in my bed?

Winter's Final Picnic

Winter's Final Picnic

Winter set a picnic table

with a sparkling cloth of snow.

But one scruffy squirrel

was the only guest to show.

Squirrel brought his own lunch

packed away in his cheek.

He had a big, black walnut, 

dug up by the creek.

Squirrel gnawed on that nut.

He left shreds of shells all around.

He finished his messy meal.

Then he jumped down to the ground.

Spring came along 

and melted Winter's snow.

She tapped Winter on the shoulder

and motioned for him to go.

Winter grumbled a bit.

He coughed out a chilly breeze.

"Don't push me. I'm going," he bellowed.

"But I'll be back later, and I'll bring a hard freeze!"

Spring smiled and waved goodbye.

She said, "Yes, yes, I'm sure you will."

Then she taught the birds to sing again

and kissed a daffodil.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *

Wishing a happy spring to all of my readers!

A Sure Sign

A Sure Sign

There are minor signs about.

Birds are singing in the trees.

Warm weather is calling, "Come out!"

Crocuses are buzzing with bees.

But the real sign that spring has arrived

is right here at my feet.

Not much of the road has survived--

just potholes where there ought to be street.

So... I hit a newly-formed crater.

My car lurched and jerked and sighed.

I knew it would happen, sooner or later.

My front tire hit a pothole and died.

Now, I've got a flat, and my axle is bent.

I think I heard laughter from the birds in the air.

My tire hit a pothole, and it's spent!

(Happy Spring to you! Aren't you glad that it's here?)

Well... at least, I do have a spare.