Loss- arlene s bice
After those I loved have gone
places are found in my heart for them
to remain forever, always with me
never apart, until our reunion
with joy in the afterlife.
pspoetry-Day 23 inanimate object
The Nude –arlene s bice
I’m more than a thing of beauty
needing no other reason for existence
but I am a reminder of what once was
a gift, a good memory to bring to mind
now a greeting near the entrance of home
to welcome all who care to enter, enjoy
an insight for the love of art begins and
lives here.
Ten Things of Thankful
- Getting out for a daily walk.
- Writing friends who like to chat about writing.
- Comments about my latest book-fortunately good ones, so far.
- FaceBook to keep me in touch with friends that I don’t get to see often enough.
- Twitter for an update on what’s happening in the book world
- The internet that feeds my curiosity and desire of learning new everything.
- Mushroom capsule supplements that sharpen my memory.
- Sines Binaural music on You Tube for healing.
- Love my lawn service, no more pushing a mower.
- The Captain for added responsibility, affection, & humor.
Filed under Cats, Ten Things of Thankful
pspoetry-Day22 a week in the life of…
A Week of-arlene s bice
Writing and reading
slip in brief mealtimes
lots of internet connection
keeps me touching the world
life, past and maybe future
toss in an occasional social visit
a weekly in-person study group
a few zooms for those faraway
life at present, the constant is
writing and reading
pspoetry-Day 21 questions
21 Questions- arlene s bice
As a child always the questions posed
who, what, where, when, how, and why
always, why
curious always to know
Who said so?
What is elbow grease?
Where did this come from?
When did it happen?
How do I know it is true?
Why?
always, why
the answer is on the bookshelf
or in the internet.
Filed under Poetry
pspoetry-Day 10 turn phone off, etc.
No Phone Needed-arlene s bice
Easy to do
no phone needed
my connections are
from a different source.
Filed under Poetry
an excerpt from Running with the Horses
We were more than 300 miles north of Niagara Falls, Canada, leaving Sudbury. I suggested that we continued driving north just to see what was there. For five and a half hours, the road took us far north then southwest. We saw no one and no sign of anyone except for several mail boxes lined along the road. It was miles and miles and miles before we saw the next line of mailboxes. Forests were all around with occasional peeks of sun-sparkled water glistening through the trees.
The first sign of people was the town of Chapleau. We were starving and spotted the only café on the block-long main street. The sign said Sportsman Hotel and Dining Room. Nothing fancy.
People on the street stopped and stared at us when we got out of the car and watched us walk inside. It was a little unnerving. Again, inside each person stopped what they were doing and looked at us. We both ignored it, smiled, and sat at a formica top table with chrome legs. The sparse interior reminded me of an old 1920s kitchen; well-worn but serviceable. It match-ed the exterior façade. No one smiled in greeting including our waitress. She was an older woman who looked like her feet hurt. The food offered was plain meat loaf, mashed potatoes, and string beans. When truly hungry basic is more than enough. It was delicious.
Everyone continued to stare at us as we were leaving. They seemed to want to ask what we were doing there! No one said a word. We thought they were Native Canadians. No one spoke. No one was friendly. There were no open smiling faces. No one was rude either. It was a weird experience I didn’t expect as a seasoned traveler.
Filed under Memoir
pspoetry-Day19 Textiles
Textiles – arlene s bice
Mother Said
“drapes and carpet dress the room”
sometimes more
sometimes comfort
sometimes protection
heavyweight drapes keep out
distracting light
cold drafts
peeking eyes
bazaar area carpet
warms toes
softens step
dulls sound.
Filed under Poetry
pspoetry Day 18 favorite song
A Favorite Song-arlene s bice
There are too many
in a long life truly lived,
to choose only one
when each has its own
memory, treasured
impossible to write new
while listening to the old
that keeps pulling me back
into the past, to re-live
with tenderness.
Filed under Poetry
pspoetry Day 17 collaborative poem
Edgar Allan Poe & Me-arlene s bice (with more apologies)
It was many and many a year ago,
in an ancient village of Wales
That a man there lived whom you may know
and I knew as well as thee
And this man he lived with no other thought
Than to read and write along with me.
I was a child and he was a child,
In that ancient village town
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
I and this man of my dreams;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
we read and we wrote, this man and me.
For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of this man and the time we spent;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of my loved one so close to me;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my eternal love, a love that never died,
In his sepulchre there in that town,
In his tomb where he lays in that town.
Filed under Poetry
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