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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/13/2008 5:27:29 PM | Erik, great rhymer! I was waiting for him to diss her, but I had the feeling at the end of the poem he was aiming for the chastity belt if his luck held out.....
mmmmmy, good addition......vintage viking? ....... that was my favorite part....
I love amber, I like the 'secondary' stones, tourmaline, garnet, citron, peridot, amethyst, moonstone, etc....I know they're not as expensive, but I love the colors...
This morning feeding the dogs, I heard a bird.....and on the way to work, I saw a woman drinking coffee and reading a book on her front porch....I think spring is finally on its way....
Anyone seen Humor? I'll have to write and see what she's up to.....
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I call my cat Polly Wolly Doodle Bug....don't ask me why the silly name, I have no idea...I'm normally quite sensible....
doodle bug
how is it
that your
submission
the limpness
of your body
and rabbit round
eyes
so paradox
to your swaggering
cockiness
last moment
instills in me
such mercy
ah, cat!
I suspect
I am still
your puppet
LS 01/31/08
Shelter me Home, Alyosha's poems | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/13/2008 9:03:53 PM | Odder yet to name your daughter Doodle, like I did...... can't explain it, she was just a doodle bug from day one
Deirdre my delightful dancing daughter
I love being caught in the swirl of you
The whirl of you, my love for you
and dreaming of you
ahhhhhh, these dreams where we lose
the debts and don't wants of yesterday
your eyes are the color of my land
greening goodness and grace to
bouquet my slumber | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/13/2008 10:08:29 PM | silver, wow! That was splendid!
An intimate tribute to a great love....thanks for leaving it here.... | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/14/2008 4:29:51 AM | Oh, cruel, cruel fate! After I read this marvellous poem of yours, this rage of love
Deirdre my delightful dancing daughter
I love being caught in the swirl of you
The whirl of you, my love for you
and dreaming of you
ahhhhhh, these dreams where we lose
the debts and don't wants of yesterday
your eyes are the color of my land
greening goodness and grace to
bouquet my slumber
I raced to look at your profile & the first thing that caught my eye was your reference to Pete Seeger and I immediately thought, YES! and then I glanced quickly over the list seeing so many other interests we have, and began to read the poem you'd posted there and held my breath because surely, surely no contemporary of mine could have written that and of course I ought to have recognized that it was St W.B.!
So then, notwithstanding that you live further away than my neighbourhood espresso-cafe, I looked at your list of those who could or could not write to you, and (May I write "damn!" here?). Here's one of mine written for my daughter, long time ago:
TO ZOE, AGE 6
My darling, I love you
better than calico, better
than rhubarb wine
or the tickle
of spring on my ribs
as I sleep
and dream of the wind
that goes whoosh through the trees
as your presence
goes whoosh
through the rooms
of my heart and my house,
Gemini with the speed of light.
So quick are you, body
and mind, that you answer
me even before I speak,
my fingerling, my dart,
--calico, wine and spring of my heart.
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/14/2008 8:10:39 AM | Deirdre and Zoe ~~ lucky daughters!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Held, warmly
in the mirror.
The loving face behind looms large
arms wrapped around a middle
a giggle
and Daddy sez:
"Prettiest girl in town!"
And made it a fact
I've never been able
to disbelieve
.
Hurt, held --
Hair smoothed behind
an ear, over and over
A mother's grief for a hurting child
Comfort at all wrongness of the world
Balm.
And the possibility of joy
. | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/14/2008 11:17:32 AM | Our secret gardens blossoming
endless in seasons of us
you the bee
i the flower
purity floating honey golden
this tenderness
interrupted only by
comma or period
separated only by
the elegant script of air
holding the tightrope
we all dance on | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/14/2008 5:28:50 PM |
Deirdre and Zoe ~~ lucky daughters!
Mebbe so but if you'd like to witness the melting of a daughter with love for her father, rent "Table for Five" and watch for the scene in which Jon Voigt cajoles his daughter to come out on the dance floor with him; then after they've been dancing for a while - she studiously watching his feet so that she can follow him - he looks down at her and says: "Hildy, you're going to be a beautiful woman!"
But - be warned! - if you are going to watch it there's another scene that is too heart-breaking to watch without a dear, dear friend by your side. | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/14/2008 7:35:11 PM | Company! and all are leaving poems of their children..... Mine (about my children and grandchildren) are earlier in the thread, trying to show them in their complexity to other people was the key that opened my writing box, which I had locked for so long...
Jer, I'll have to put that on my Netflix queue...my sis and I can watch, if we could sit through "What Dreams May Come" we can get through anything, though we did use a copious amount of tissues....
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Advice
I'm tongue tied
by too much rising knowledge
I prophesy mid life perspective
to ears defeaned by unwitting youth
How surprised I felt
at my curious lack of dismay
in burying ambitions clones
That regret, real regret
accrued because of the inability
to discern glory in the everyday
I learned ambition
rings hollow in the silence
after they have flown
And so ambitious child
here is my stumbling advice
hard won at the price
of a sore heart
the devil was in the details
there can never be
enough bubbles in the bath
enough board games
enough family dinners
I do not deserve it, still
I revel in my second chance
living fully in the essence of fleeting moments
as my grandchildren fill the hollow silence
with the sweetness of games and baths
LS 02/16/07 
Great Virtue, Sacred Act of Storytelling | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/14/2008 10:05:59 PM | It is enlightening listening to the words
Of young women trying to find a balance
In their own thoughts
Those same thoughts that ring true
For all of us who have experienced
Self reflection
From the little girl learning to tie her shoe
Mouth clenched in determination
There has to be some sense of victory, achievement
The only way you are ever going to find that balance
Is with laughter at watching the seams unravel
Uncontrollable hysterical burst of female hormones
Painted into a cartoon
Frame by frame the bubbles collide with exclamation marks
Undercurrents of feminine emotions
We are far too sensible than to go out and kick the shed
Ruin a good pair of shoes, stub a toe
Or just plain look ridiculously silly at our own expense
More often than not you sit life down
Spill out the frustration in gallons of undigested frustration
And laugh until your insides hurt
Most guys just hide when the storm brews
We are better off venting to other females
Who nod and accept the flood
Leave it up to the guys to build the arc. | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/14/2008 11:42:36 PM | young women
ahh, what happens
when you feel young at heart
but your age belies your youth
and you have baggage
that none can refute
are your days numbered
beyond hope of repair
should you cease hoping
your someone will be there
and will still care
should you call “the end”
and stop playing the game
resign yourself to being alone
or, decide to keep plucking away
future uncertain, how can i say | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/15/2008 12:05:41 AM | for me the game
has been cancelled
due to small turnout
at the gate
never mind
but of course,
i do mind
would that the pieces of me
would mend
for surely this is it
the last dance chance
years after the raging storms
still this waltz with
broken branches
i can hear
strauss snicker
the last tango
with death
is so near
yes
let the dance go on
within these words
i raise my arms
chin up
shoulders down
accept the space
where death does turn
confident in the
return favor | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/15/2008 7:35:00 AM | ^^Nice!
bin enjoying your poetry, silverswan...:)
and woob! that one, up there^^cool!
geeze, where have I been?
it would seem this pond
has some mighty fine poems
floating around
again
I need my canoe | |
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mmmmmy
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Joined: 2/11/2008
Msg: 1238 | |
| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/15/2008 1:04:45 PM |  Dear Humor my friend, never is the end near. Just seems we have much more to steer clear of! Fountains of youth live in the Soul! my friend, yu look like 31!
Deepest darkest holes of age
live in ones with little sage
Left to be alone forever
Living life so undiscoverd!
Mountains live for centuries
Statues stand for all to gaze
Poetry a work of words
live forever in our hearts!
Know that always you are
special!
Life has one special gift
to deliver!
One for only your heart
your soul!
Let this be your moment!
Glow!
Lovely is as lovely does!
Shine as if the sky above
Live each day as if you know
Soon it will all bring a glow!
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/16/2008 8:01:01 PM | for humor, and silver
dance on
in your red shoes
the embers of your life
a hearthstone
a warming beacon
the sweetest days could lie ahead
the swan song
gains meaning through retrospect
it is the deeper well
that rewards the seeker
with water cold, and fresh
Autumn, can't say I miss those hormone surges.....Om, how nice to see you out and about! mmmmmy, I agree...think of Grandma Moses, her end years were saturated with creativity.....yes, the young love wilder, but we have the capability to love warmer..... | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/16/2008 9:13:28 PM | ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
After the day I had this was almost like a balm....thank you
The sweetest days lie ahead
those that have passed
laid down the foundation
of what is to come. | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/16/2008 9:18:09 PM | Loved this Brizo...it's really an entire poem
dance on
in your red shoes
the embers of your life | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/18/2008 3:12:23 PM | thanks, mmmmy and brizo!
i liked your writes. | |
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mmmmmy
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Joined: 2/11/2008
Msg: 1243 | |
| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/20/2008 6:53:28 AM | Brizo , I loved that poem! Sophia is right, those few words a poem in themselves!
One I read , and loved . Thought you ladies might like it as well!
AT THE OLD LADIES' HOME
by: Ruth Guthrie Harding (1882-?)
HERE in a row of chairs upon the porch
I saw them, women alien from the world,
Set in a niche to watch the world go by:
A few, born saints . . . but some had outworn sin;
Sisters at last, from having done with life.
Here Joan of Arc, grown past her soldier-dream,
And Mariamne, spared her Herod's wrath,
Forgetting Herod, gossiped for an hour;
While calm Francesca, once knowing Paolo's love,
Sat knitting peaceful in the noonday sun,
And Nicolette, with Aucassin long gone,
Made painful writing with a wrinkled hand.
"Ah, let me die," I prayed, "before the glow
Shall leave my body, and before my tears
Shall buy me patience; take me while I feel
The lure-of-things that blesses with its hurt--
Dear God, give me not age!" (For I would keep
You in my heart of hearts . . . for whose sad eyes
These lines are set, O Dearest . . . to the last.)
Just then, among the many faces there,
I glimpsed a face most delicate and pale
And very lovely with that wistfulness
In which the shadows of long sorrow lie;
Meeting my look, she smiled, and, with that smile,
Somehow the lilacs by the iron fence,
The plumed grass brushing low across the path,
Brought back to me an afternoon in May
And a sweet garden where I sometimes played
When I fared forth in gingham pinafore:
I saw Another (dead so many years,
Her name I could not in that hour recall):
Old she had been as ashes in a jar
She kept upon a high, old-fashioned chest
In an old-fashioned room in her still house . . .
Now I remembered with what passionate warmth
A cheek had once been pressed against my cheek,
What frail and trembling arms had lifted me
To touch that silvery dust within the jar.
Perhaps it is God's will I shall grow old
And none may read beneath my quietness . . .
Gardens in May, or any memory
Of you! And yet for very shame to-night
I change my prayer, and ask for strength to live. | |
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mmmmmy
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Joined: 2/11/2008
Msg: 1244 | |
| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/20/2008 7:22:42 AM | Of Me...what will be Remembered
Of all the wonderful things of my lifetime
My Son
what will be remembered of me?
I hope it shall always be
all the special things I tried to show you
teach you
Some night when you are thinking of me
may it be something wonderful
you shall see!
Remember the Sundays with sunny skies
we went to the River
You enjoyed so much!
Feeding the Ducks with your tiny hands
breadcrumbs and popcorn
you scattered our love.
Maybe the long trips to Southern Ohio
a trip you loved so much
so did I!
Grandma awaiting our happy return
each time with a smile
you ran to her.
Watching this, I found eternity!
Our evening walks along the Pond
threw in a pole for you,
this always made you smile!
The tiniest fish you would pull outta that pond!
We would unhook em , you would hold em
quickly throw em back!
Gathering rocks , one of your loves
sometimes Mama would pull that red wagon home
so heavy and full of rocks
What a load!
What to do with all of your Rocks
my pleasure...
you helped me build a small stone rockgarden
in the front yard!
A Christmas present for you , one year
something I loved , as did you!
A beautiful Himalayan Persian Kitten
with beautiful blue eyes!
You named him "Zachariah" from the Bible
I remember crying about this...
as my Son remembered from Sunday School.
He said "mama , you named me Joshua"
"and he was in the Bible
I want my Kitty to be from the Bible too!"
My Son , you made me so happy , proud , still do!
I watch you everyday become stronger
each day I find something wonderful about you!
You traveled many roads with me
Some more sorrowful than I had wished for you
The loss of Grandpa;
and of your wonderful Grandma, my Mother
Without you in those times
I am afraid I may have lost it!
Memories of many things
come to my mind , when I think of you!
All of them Wonderful, spectacular, lovely
nothing in my life has come near to their beauty.
My Son, I wish for you all the Beauty of life
Hope for you a love that is neverending and undying!
Magnitudes of pleasure and multitudes of sunny skies!
When you remember me someday;
Hope it brings a smile
most of all
a glisten in your eye!
I Love you "My Son" | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/20/2008 7:35:00 AM | Love how everyone gathers in here!
I have a red box
which I open at times.
In the box are a hundred lace doilies
that my ancestresses have made.
What did they mean with all these doilies,
these time pieces of another era?
I imagine pudgy child hands being taught to hold the threads
taunt. Silver needle painstakingly picking out the mistakes
until a perfect snowflake emerges.
I envision young women trimming the wicks in a winters afternoon
and sitees in the drawing room
where the womenfolk gather
to pass the time.
I assume the gossip was still the same.
Who said what, and who went where,
and all the prospects of new lovers.
I can feel a generation of hands picking up the lace
and “finishing up” before setting the kettle on for tea.
How many of life’s worries were worked out in the clicking of needles,
something for the hands to do, while waiting through the birthing of children,
and the breaking of fevers,
of war, and of heartbreak?
I sense the daydreams,
lace held dormant in long skirted laps,
while eyes follow the darting cardinals out the parlor windows.
I imagine the dreams were the same;
peace, contentment,
and love of course.
There are generations of hopes
worked into those intricate shapes,
which I just cannot throw away.
So, I have a red box,
which I open sometimes. | |
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mmmmmy
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Joined: 2/11/2008
Msg: 1246 | |
| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/20/2008 9:21:12 AM |
There are generations of hopes
worked into those intricate shapes,
which I just cannot throw away.
So, I have a red box,
which I open sometimes.
Ravin, what a lovely poem!
We all have things from the past
like this.
It renders the heart a warm warm feeling!
Just to open it up and touch and feel
sing and write about them.
What a wonderful thing it is!
I hope someone can do this for me someday!
All the things I have created
I have so many of my Mothers
they live with me everyday
many I hide and keep up
others I show off
I truely cannot describe
how much they mean to me!
lovely things of the past!
We often miss, yet we do not forget!
Lovely things left for our hearts
memories
To our eyes they please!
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/20/2008 4:34:57 PM | Pickles, I'm glad that made you feel soothed...we have a lot of value that often goes overlooked, just to see how much support exists, friendship without competition....shared pride in the accomplishments of friends... because we know our own worth, and that has been hard won, through sheer living...
Sophia, any praise from you is treasured....
humor, mmmmmy is right, you don't look near your age.
mmmmmy, and ravin, you just keep getting better and better! I'm glad to have had the opportunity to "watch" you perfect your skills...
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I wrote this for ravin....may your happiness warm the rest of your life....
the one
Such sweet love
in ecstasy
I float upon
my days
your ways,
your ways!
they've got me
entranced
as if this were
my first
romance
and the world
bright as
a brand new penny
isn't any
sorrow here
or darkened clouds
or fear...
my love,
with just your
honest heart
you've made my world
so clear
LS 2/26/08
first, last & unfinished business | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/21/2008 9:43:50 PM | just some shorties......of a rather depressing nature, if I do say so myself......spring can't get here too soon...
Across Town
While you are enjoying
an evening out
across town
an old dog sits
forgotten
shivering in a flimsy
plastic igloo
frozen water
and empty bowl | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/21/2008 9:45:04 PM | resistance
paradoxically
resistance to improvement
is generally
deepest
in the areas
needing change
most
LS 2/21/08
Daily Poet, Parables of Dreams | |
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| Brizo's poems
Posted: 3/21/2008 9:45:57 PM | barren
fluffy winter birds
chickadees
nuthatches
peck
into my gravelled
drive
watching
I'm humbled
tenaciously
finding food
and shelter
where no hand
greets them
promising myself
seeds
in future
meet them
LS 02/12/08
Age of Innocence | |
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