Comfortably Numb

Comfortably Numb

Depression is an illness millions of people suffer through for weeks, months, even years. It may be simple post-partum blues, or depression because of grief, or sometimes it’s the bottom of the barrel and you can’t see you way out. It makes you feel lonely and afraid.

“Hello?
Is there anyone in there?
Just nod is you can hear me.”

What if you can’t nod from exhaustion? You try at first to take care of your depression as you retreat farther and farther from your family, your friends, the world.

The family tries to persuade you to go see a doctor, but you resist. You’ve had these feelings before and you’ve always – always – pulled out of it by yourself.

But this time things are getting worse and the next thing you realize all you want to do is pull out in front of a tractor trailer and end it all. This is when you know you’re in deep shit. As soon as you drive the last mile to work, you make an emergency call to the nearest psych center.

“I’ll need some information first.
Just the basic fact,
Can you show me where it hurts?”

I want to scream – IT HURTS EVERYWHERE!! I need help before something bad happens to me or my family. So off I go to the fix-me-up place.

“Okay
Just a little pin prick
… you may feel a little sick.
Can you stand up?”

Group therapy, individual therapy, no notebooks with wires – my favorite kind – how the hell will I be able to write? The first few days I’m a zombie with no thoughts of my own.

“I have become comfortably numb.”

This is not solving my problem, I want to be a normal wife again, a mother, a daughter, a grandmother, a writer – but never a nurse ever again - never ever.

“When I was a child
I caught a fleeting glimpse,
Out of the corner of my eye.”

I am no long a child and I have a dream. The pain is not over and it will always be there back in the shadows of your mind. I will sometimes have dark days looming, but now they are coming in longer waves. I close my eyes, pulling on willpower to move forward.

“I no
longer want
to be
comfortably
numb”

**Song lyrics by Pink Floyd**

Trust the Inside Not the Outside

TRUST THE INSIDE NOT THE OUTSIDE



Beauty lies in the ignorant
because that is all they have to fall back on.

Don't judge a book by its cover
because you'' miss some of the best literature ever written.

Just because you were not rich growing up,
doesn't mean you are rich in intelligence.

Glasses, pimples, greasy hair with a loud mouth,
gays or geeks or nerds doesn't give others the right to bully.

Sugarcult - Christine

CHRISTINE
by Sugarcult

what's wrong?
i feel so alone again.
the look in your eyes sometimes...
pretending that it's all right.
make up and move on,
our ways never change
and i can get anyone that i want -
you'll see christine.
and i would do anything if you could believe in me,
but girl-you play those tricks
and make a fool out of me.
that's the way it goes here.
i can't stand loving you anymore.
i try my best, but i'm back for more.
my heart beat stops every time you leave me.
hanging on lately...
last night,
she came back into my life.
to play with my head this time.
she's hanging me out for dead
i take it and move on,
our ways will never change
and i can get anyone that i want -
you'll see christine.
and i would do anything if you could believe in me.
but girl, you play those tricks
and make a fool out of me.
that's the way it goes here.
i can't stand loving you anymore.
i try my best, but i'm back for more.
my heart beat stops every time you leave me.
hanging on lately...
take her away, take her away, take her away from this place.
take her away, take her away, take her away from this place.
what's wrong?
i feel so alone again.
i flunked out a thousand times,
it's making me realize,
that i'm back and better for us.
our ways will never change
and i can get anyone that i want -
you'll see christine.
and i would do anything if you could believe in me.
but girl, you play those tricks
and make a fool out of me.
you'll see, christine.

Old Memories

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OLD MEMORIES

Ancient in years, but still holding onto

the special charm making it beautiful.

Windows need replacing and probably casings, too,

but the bricks and stone continue to hold

the mortar used to make this antique house

stand on firm ground.

And although most people do not like the green moss

making its home on the stone steps and up to the porch.

Number one, green is my favorite color, and two, the

moss is furry and soft

makes a natural pillow to give a decent night's sleep.

I've no idea who owns this home, but I can take it on

faith that no one lives here,

unless it is someone like me.

Shrouded Heart

(Photo copyright www.profilebrand.com)

SHROUDED HEART

Darkness hangs like a shroud;
sooner or later, we will be together again -
our love is all we need.

I'm so excited ....

... here is the cover proof of the book "Images of America: Harrodsburg" which Anna Armstrong and I are writing ....



What do you think! Personally, I LOVE it, but I'm a little prejudice.

Too many books, so little time

To much writing and not enough reading makes Bobbi a dull, overworked woman. I decided to take the day off today and catch up on some reading. Since the last book I read was "Mockingjay" - the last book in the Hunger Games trilogy - I'm having a hard time deciding what to read. I've narrowed it down to four choices:

1.) "Battle Royale" by Houshun Tahami - the Japanese version of "Hunger Games" - published in America in 2003, several years before "Hunger Games"

2.)"Infinity" by Sherrilyn Kenyon - first book in the Chronicles of Nick

3.) "Pretty Little Liars" by Sara Shepard - first book in the Pretty Little Liars series - this has been turned into an ABC Family series and one of my newest guilty pleasures.

4.) "Clockwork Angel" by Cassandra Clare - a prequel to the Mortal Instruments Series

Decisions, decisions ... eeny, meeny, minny, moe - "Infinity" it is.

Spell-Bound

SPELL-BOUND

Terrifying experiences
signal a disaster is coming.
Although the surface seems calm and serene,
unbeknownst to them,
strange things have begun to happen
A long dead woman,
spell-bound by her beauty,
has been lured from her grave,
to make them pay,
to seek her revenge.





(Photo by Randy Ellefson)

Shambles

SHAMBLES

A summer storm has subsided
and all is quiet,
but there are continued hints of clandestine gloom.
Everything is now in ruins
and an ever growing mystery
is leading to a new event,
drawing us closer to catastrophe.





(Photo by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixels Narratives)

Interesting Sights in Wally World

INTERESTING SIGHTS IN WALLY WORLD



Wally World is the cheap store to buy all types of items,
but the class of people who come here is wide, varied and strange.
Preppies who wear their teeny shorts with assess hanging out.
Large women, like me, who waddle in under the supposed veil of darkness,
only to have the bright lights shows every layer of fat.
Rednecks with no shirts on, or wearing shirts that are so dirty
you wonder when they were last washed.
Well-to-do people who seem to look around,
before finally placing an item in their carts.
Women with "back" boobs;
men who need man bras.
Land yachts and SUVs taking up 2 parking spaces,
just so no one will hit their precious cars.
People with handicapped tags appearing to have no problem jogging across the lot,
or at least moving at an easier pace than me.
Most of the gay population coming at night to avoid the stares and evil words.
Small children left to run across parking lots
while their parents make conversation near the Wal-Mart doors or by their cars.
Watch out cars; be careful of these wayward children.
Parents who allow their children to stand up in the shopping buggies,
where the chance of tipping over is too great.
Parents who allow their children to run wild throughout the store,
or those who attempt to discipline by screaming at the top of their voices.
Is it any wonder I don’t go shopping anymore?
The sign on the truck above says it all,
... We Sell for Satan, Always ...
I prefer waiting in the car and enjoying the menagerie enter the store
watching the antics with a pen and paper in hand.

Jade and the Old Woman

(Photo by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixel Narratives)

JADE AND THE OLD WOMAN



Jade walked down the old brick sidewalk, stepping gently over a few cracks and loose bricks. Even though she was over six feet tall, the glamour didn't keep her from tripping if she wasn't looking where she was going. The occasional person she met on the sidewalk paid no attention to the plain young woman walking down the sidewalk. She laughed to herself thinking of the green skin and long thin legs that no one could see but herself.

She was looking for a new place to live and she'd had a friend recommend a boarding house on Daisy Street. As she carefully watched the house numbers increase in size, she finally stopped at 1132 Daisy and looked at the sight before her. Before here was a metal gate with an arbor covered in thick green morning glory vines. The glories had not started to bloom yet, but they promised a delightful array of colors in the coming weeks.

Two clay urns marked the entrance on each side of the sidewalk and Jade stood looking over the gate at the two-story house. She knew from her friend that there was also an attic room and this was the room that was for rent. Cheap, which was exactly Jade's price range. Because she came from the planet of Jadocon, she was used to the hot dry air that would be present in the attic room during the summer.

Four white round post held up the front portico and they each had several layers of red paint, reminding Jade of a candy cane. She had been introduced to candy canes during her first winter on Earth, but her best friend Devan. She felt a wave of sadness come over her at the thought of losing Devan. Life on Earth had been so much better when she had a friend she could share her secrets with.

Now, she was on the run again and trying to stay ahead of the people who wanted to capture her and use her as a science rate. This quirky, eccentric house should throw the scientist off for a few months, allowing Jade to regain her strength and decide what her next plan of action would be. She still had four more years to spend on Earth before she could go home to Jadocon and if she couldn't escape these people, she would not learn everything she needed to learn.

The inviting red door beckoned to her to her and she opened the squeaky gate and stepped onto the red brick sidewalk, similar to the one on the street side, only a lighter shade of red. There were lush green gardens on each side of the sidewalk and several Boston ferns sitting and hanging from the front porch.

There was no door bell to ring, only an old-fashioned door knocker in the shape of lion's head. Jade hesitated but a moment, then grasped the knocker and rapped three times on the door. She waited several minutes before she knocked again, and this time she was answered by a quiver voice, "Hold your horses - I'm moving as fast as I can."

When the door opened, the woman on the inside of the door and the girl on the outside of the door both stared at each other in shock. The older woman looked to be older than any human Jade had encountered on Earth, she had never seen so many wrinkles and character in one face. The older woman looked at the girl and saw - not the illusion of glamour - but the tall green girl with large black, almond-shaped eyes. They both gasped in surprised.

The Memory Lives On

This is a poem I wrote last year - I thought it appropriate to run it again this yearl



THE MEMORY LIVES ON
September 11

I was going through a rough spot in my life,
in between jobs from birthing babies to elderly care.
I finally had the day off and after seeing my family off to school and work,
I settled in to enjoy the TODAY show.
No sooner did I have my nest made when the first plane hit the first tower.
Was it a horrible accident?
Had something gone terribly wrong?
Or were we under attack from a growing terror
we’ve kept on the back burner too long?
Bomb drills and survival skills raced through the edges of my mind
as I tried to comprehend what was going on.
Never one for telephone calls, I detested using the phone,
but I needed to have some answers
so I picked up the receiver to make my first call.
My hubby wasn’t quiet to work yet, but still on his long commute
and he turned on the radio to listen.
Still in shock, I was on the phone again with my soul sister, Linda Loo,
when the next tower was hit.
What the hell is going on?
What do we do?
Why hasn’t the Emergency Broadcast System made an interruption?
They interrupt programming when the wind blows the wrong way, but not today.
Throughout the next hours I was glued with horror
to the images coming from the frosty screen.
Airplanes,
box cutters,
terrorist attacks – how is this happening in the great USA?
And why is Bush Jr.,
our Commander in Chief,
reading a book upside down to the children gathered around him in a classroom?
Why doesn’t he do something – anything to make the horror stop?
Our lives will never be the same again, our freedom has been threatened.
I feel I dug a hole that day to bury myself away,
but all the pain and suffering in my personal life just no longer seems to compare.
And now it’s eight years later and the New York skyline remains ruptured –
our tribute to the terrorist,
by our lack of cohesive structure.

Shroud of Darkness

SHROUD OF DARKNESS

Darkness hangs like a shroud,
sooner or later we'll be together again.
Our love is all we need.

All is silent, ominously silent,
violence will continue,
an event setting off a chain of events.

A blaze of flame at the top of the cliff,
begging, pleading - then burst into flames;
he is gone, never to return.

A great storm rages over the heaven,
a rainless storm
for vengeance has become an obsession;
and he takes advantage of the opportunity for revenge,
by killing the girl his enemy loves;
turning her into a grotesque skeleton of his lost love.

Darkness hangs like a shroud,
as the stormy night draws closer to dawn.
A young man broods over a decision;
an era gone by,
the threshold between past and future.
Torn between the woman he once loved and the one he now loves.

Morning, a morning that should be a happy one,
love that lasted through time,
haunting adventure,
mysterious and terrifying
stands in majestic isolation.

Under the brightness of a full moon,
but no one knows that under this full moon
means something it has never meant before.
It is the sign of a new and evil power
that prowls the woods in search of a victim.

First night with strange and weird discoveries -
faint voices from the past
over an ancient phone with on wire connections.
There is a storm raging, a storm that can't block out
the wails of the past, the wails legends say
come when there is someone to die, the wails of the dead.

Darkness envelopes the world tonight for an incantation has been performed to rid the house of strange spirits roaming the halls -
there is danger in this night -
a mysterious voice from beyond the grave and a new terror
will take over the feelings of the frightened family.

The great halls echo, with the rumble of thunder illuminated
by light flashes of the angry storm, as two angry
spirits battle in conflict - spirits long since dead,
as the rain finally starts to fall.

Dangerous Curiosity

DANGEROUS CURIOSITY

The fiery evening sun
is settling into the darkness,
and will encase the secrets
determined to disclose the curiosity
which may mean grave danger.

No one is safe from the nameless terror
that hangs so close - hoping fears
will be put to rest

Fear

(Photo by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixel Narratives)

FEAR

There is a stillness in the darkness
enveloping the world,
fear stalks the living.

A pale, peaceful moon illuminates
the great expanse of lawn,
but the barn upon it will know no peace
because of disappointment leading to terror;
a welcoming touch that can cause death or destruction.

It is dusk and faint rays of light come down
to creep across the silent meadows and fields;

secrets, secrets that could cost a life.

The sun has gone down and the night seems
darker
lonelier than before
and we live with the fear.

Unlucky

(Photo from The Sixth Minky)

UNLUCKY

Friday the 13th
Murphy's law
scare of my life
twice in one week

Nothing

(Photo by Dan Felstead of "Wood and Pixel Narratives")

NOTHING

When you're in love at 17,
you think you know everything.
It's not until you're 47,
so you realize you know nothing.

Crazy M-I-L

CRAZY M-I-L


Crazy,
pure and simple crazy.
Not coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs crazy,
but full of bragging and constant deceit,
and thinking only of herself.
Full of evil deeds, with plots and planning -
so glad she is out of my life.

Yorkie Rides a Harley

YORKIE RIDES A HARLEY

I saw a young man
upon a motorcycle today,
a sleek white beautiful Harley with
glistening chrome handle bars.
There was nothing unusual about this man,
other than he wore no protective headgear,
but that is his choice to make, not mine.
What drew me to him was the tiny compartment
on the seat behind his back,
for in this compartment,
strapped in with a red seat belt
was a tiny toy Yorkie.
She wore a pink bandanna around her little neck,
that's how I knew she was a girl;
and she seemed to be enjoying the ride,
because as the wind ruffled her tannish hair

I swear I saw her grin.

On a Hot Summer Night

ON A HOT SUMMER NIGHT

Crying
Sarah, answer your phone
Clang, clang of the see-saw
Squeak of the swings
Watch both ways
Siren from fire truck
Kids squealing
Kids laughing
The ice cream truck bell
Leaves rustling
Birds crying
Wind blowing
Words forming

Dear Neighbor #7

Dear Next-Door-Neighbor,

I am a better person than you. Your life must be so void of anything else to do that you feel the need to mess with my life. I am the better person and one day you will get what you truly deserve. Until then, I'm going to try and never think of you again. If you can't handle that, then tough - move away. We were here first.

Sincerely,

Your Next-Door-Neighbor

When I Can’t Write

When I can’t write, then I’m either sick or something is wrong. I write from the time I get up until I can’t keep my eyes open at night. I may never write the Great American Novel, but I have been an obsessive writer since I was eleven years old.

I keep a daily journal, work on several blogs and I have many freelance jobs at the present. Everything makes me feel like writing. It may not be what I should be writing, but I’m always putting words on paper or keyboard.

Right now, there is a group of kids on the swing set (Old Fort Harrod Park) and they are inspiring a poem. Even though I may only jot down single words, they will end up as a poem or story before the night is over.

Rainy days inspire me more than sunny days, because I love the smell and feel of rain in the air. My wildflowers inspire me because they are God’s gift – pampered, hybrid flowers just don’t mean the same to me.

The past two months, my words and writings have been about my youngest daughter, Christine and her plans for college at Berea. Over the past month, since the illness and death of my Momma, I have filled two and a half notebooks with words, thoughts and prayers. I’m not ready to turn them into anything yet, but the words are there when I’m finally ready.

The past few days have been the best because they have been filled with words and thoughts about my first grandchild, Devon Mikayla. Of course, she is not my official first grandchild because I have a step-grandchild, Delilah Rose, who is the sweetest little two year old you would ever want. But there will always be a special place in my heart for my little Tadpole.

Words come easy for me, if not, something is wrong.

Dear Neighbor #6

Dear Next-Door-Neighbor,

Just because you think it's hot to mow your yard 3 times a week in your pink bikini, doesn't mean we should have to look at it. This is a child-friendly neighborhood, so please cover up - or at least wear a decent shirt.

Sincerely,

Your Next-Door-Neighbor

Dear Neighbor #5

Dear Next-Door-Neighbor,

Please don't throw your nasty cigarette butts in my yard and flower beds. Number one, it's just plain rude! Number two, you may get lung cancer - and wouldn't that be a shame. And number three, you smoke while driving a gas-powered lawnmower - one day you may just go BOOM!!

Sincerely,

Your Next-Door-Neighbor

Dear Neighbor #4

Dear Next-Door-Neighbor,

It may be hard for you to believe, but yes, I do leave several portions of my backyard unmowed. It provides food & shelter for birds & other small creatures. Worried about mice and snakes - well, the pair of red-tailed hawks seem to be taking pretty good care of them - not to mention the feral cats roaming the neighborhood and your little yappy dogs barking all the time. If we keep destroying natural habitats, then we will suffer in the long run.

Sincerely,

Your Next-Door-Neighbor

Dear Neighbor - #3

Dear Next-Door-Neighbor,

Why, yes - that was me giving you the one-fingered salute as I have driven past your house the past few days. Petty, I know, but very satisfying nontheless. I just hope you're able to capture the image on your 2 video cameras sticking out of your front windows, because taking a picture last mu...ch longer.

Sincerely,

Your Next-Door-Neighbor

Dear Neighbor - #2

Dear Next Door Neighbor,

If you feel the need to throw your rotten tomatoes somewhere, why not use a d**n trashcan - or do the natural thing and compost. My yard is NOT your trashcan. If you want to throw it into MY compost heap, that's one thing, but don't just pitch things into my backyard. Seriously, you may wake ...up one day with rotten tomatoes on more than your backyard.

Sincerely,

Your Next Door Neighbor

Dear Neighbor - #1

Dear Next Door Neighbor,

If your harsh, chemical spray kills my sedum, Goldenrod and vinca, you may be very sorry. Just because you want to pollute the air by scalping your yard with a lawnmower 3 times a week, doesn't mean we all do. My shrubs and trees are trying hard to compensate for the damage you're doing to our... environment.

Sincerely,
Your Next Door Neighbor

Surviving Grief

(Photo copyright All Poetry.com)

SURVIVING GRIEF


We have mourned and wept for those who have passed on.
Our tears have dried, but our hearts are scarred eternally;
life is contained and our memories serve to freshen the wound.
We are therefore vulnerable to shock that has turned to regret.

Of all the grieved we will soon be drawn,
some to faint rays of light which appear on the horizon,
and others disappearing into the darkness.
We have known what it is to live in the darkness,
what it is to find a moment of light,
only to be plunged into darkness again,
For one who seems to be a friend, has separated
the present reality to a fake reality,
and salvation has been denied.

To live, to exist, is to expose oneself to uncertainty.
Changes are all around us
and we can never be sure when new perils will arrive.
But jeopardy does not respect time
and we must be prepared for the next encounter.

To College or War

TO COLLEGE OR WAR

My daughter is off to college today,
it's almost like going to war.
Trunks are filled, bags are packed,
the house is feeling smaller already.
I think this is a good thing,
even a great thing,
but the thought of my baby being gone
is a bitter pill to swallow.
Posters off the wall, books carefully packed away,
Disney characters stare back at me,
wondering where their owner has gone.
Harrodsburg, Danville and into the heart of Lancaster.
Thistles, Joe Pye Weed, Crepe Myrtle, Ironweed and Goldenrod,
bloom along the way.
A cliff lined with limestone,
blasted away to make room for these asphalt roads.
Paint Lick Elementary School in Cartersville -
Highway 954.
Yellow tobacco waiting to be cut,
and creek beds drying with rocks peeking up their heads on each side.
Cattails sway in the breeze as we follow a truck containing
a Crucifixion cross like a scene from "Mad Max."
Madison County, East 21,
Berea,
my God, we're almost there.
Blondies's Ice Cream Parlor and the Circle K,
and our honeymoon spot - the Holiday Motel.
Berea College approaches,
the time is finally here.
I know it is not a good-bye,
just an, "I'll see you later,"
but why does it feel like forever?

~~August 21, 2010

Dragonfly Ballet

DRAGONFLY BALLET

Dragonfly chasing a butterfly -
swooping above the scorching parking lot.
A delicate ballet - rapid fire of blue translucent wings
and the chunky, slowness of yellow ones.

Gusts of wind send a discarded bottle cap on a
jaunt across the black asphalt,
catching and dropping into each cervice and dip.

Hot, warm breeze on a mid-August day -
how sweet it is.

The Night Has Ended

This is another poem inspired by a photo by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixel Narratives.)



THE NIGHT HAS ENDED



Frightening sight, an apparition from the past,
even by day can be immensely dangerous place,
with many unsolved mysteries and grave danger.
Determined to seek out the truth,
a secret from the past
which can force things once thought long gone,
thus could make things happen even though we have
difficult decision to decide our path of existence.
Streaks of red, the color of blood, mix with rain the color of the sky
Chase away the sunset, bringing forth the dawn,
but it is like the day would end up with a horrible death
even though the shimmering reflection offers the peace of day,
the sunset usually offers
a raging night could end with a horrible death.

Mysteries

(This photo is copyright of Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixel Narratives. Although it doesn't exactly match the tone of the poem, the color are breathtaking. The "...great estate of an enormous heart..." could be the Church - use your own interpretation.)

MYSTERIES



Night clouds hang over the fast approaching dawn,
still holding the dark captive, under the light of the moon.
Twin evils revel a danger with the largest house,
the great estate of an enormous heart,
feeling trapped, a prisoner,
like a women from the dead, come to life,
but seeking the warmth and life from the living.
The light from the moon continues to gleam in the night mist
and it is here an imaginable paranoia intrudes;
time for the woman to follow a new destiny.
It is a strange and disturbing time,
trapped, chained,
unable to follow the different fates or
to what will happen from one life to the other.
Her secrets are now in danger,
no longer able to penetrate the disguise,
unaware of the dangers.
The night continues toward lighter hours,
ancient knowledge,
multiple mysteries,
warping the bands of time to cross the plain,
leaving behind the troubled curse weighing heavy on her mind.
The sun rises blood red at dawn
hanging almost frightful over the countryside.
And even as the dark passes, the mysteries remain
the web has been spun with terror and mystery
as the fissures continue to expand into ever-deepening whispers.

Care and Feeding of Nightmares

For anyone who would like to purchase my 2nd chapbook of poetry, "Care and Feeding of Nightmares" - you can email me at:

careandfeedingofnightmares@gmail.com

with your snail-mail address. The books are $5 each plus $2 for shipping and handling. I hope to have PayPal set up on my blog in a few weeks for payments, but currently I can only accept checks or money orders. I will mail out the book on the day I receive your order. You can also buy the books at J. Sampson Antiques on Main Street in Harrodsburg. Thanks to everyone who buys a book!

Wake Up and Live

WAKE UP AND LIVE

I can't see my way around
the dark veil of depression
increasingly squeezing in on my life.
Even medications are not enough to control the suffocating blackness.
Occasionally, tiny specks of happiness are sprinkled through my life,
like bits of candy canes in peppermint ice cream -
sharp, but sweet, lessening the edge of torment.
I've live half my life, so why don't I feel better about myself?
Why does this torture continue,
causing nothing by hopelessness and pain?
Life is too short to live in misery and despair.
I've got to wake up and smell the fresh,
tantalizing fragrance of my family,
my life -
I must wake up and live.

Bright Future

BRIGHT FUTURE

Out of the fallen dusk
night draws near,
and a stranger, who is not a stranger,
approaches with a soul shaped by remembrance and loneliness.
The persistent strain of moans and groans,
don't rule out the possibilities.
The shapes of the stories and descriptions
handed down from roots and blood and soul;
form their own destiny.
Indulging in fanciful attitudes
will only lead to sadness from the past.
So return to live the life you never got to live,
the uneasy days,
the invasion of privacy,
the great mystery is finally over.
The future awaits, and it is a bright future indeed.

Time

TIME

I want time to blow the fluff from a dandelion.
I want time to blow a bubble that sparkles like a rainbow
as it bounces on the breeze.
I need the time to see how many licks it takes
to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop.
Give me time to smell the roses and lilacs, the herbs and wildflowers.
Give me time to taste a fresh, juicy peach, the perfect tomato from the vine -
Rocky Road ice cream.
Time to feel my lovers arms around me;
time to nuzzle with my little tadpole;
time to tell my girls "I love you."
I want to hear the serenade of frogs on a hot summer night,
time to hear the red-tailed hawk calling to his mate.
I need time to see the beauty of nature,
be it God, Goddess or Spirit - thank you.
Thank you for the time you've given me on this earth;
and if it is in your power, allow me to remain just a little longer.

Layers

LAYERS

What?
Can't I have layers?
Onions have layers, although they may make you cry.
I'm more than what you see on the surface -
but why don't you look beyond?
Down deep into my soul, which encases my heart,
all the way up high to my brain with its right and left side,
all gray matter and neurons firing out of control.
I'm more than I seem,
don't judge a wildflower by its petals;
on the outside most are pretty, but the wonderful uses are inside.
See me,
see my layers,
see all my layers
before jumping to conclusions.

Loch Ness is Yummy

As many of you know, my youngest daughter, Christine, turned 18 this week. Even though she is legally an adult know, here is a picture of the special request birthday cake "Sharon's Cakes" made for her:



Of course, one of the first things my brand-new 18 year old did was go to the Mercer Public Library and have her status changed so she could check out VHS tapes and DVDs. What did she come home with? Winnie the Pooh videos ...

Maybe she's not growing as fast as I thought she was. If only I could keep her like this forever ...

Old Fort Playground

Our camera computer has been in the shop, so I don't have an actual picture of the destruction at the Fort Harrod Playground, but I will post them as soon as I can. Maybe this is going to be a good thing - many things have to get worse before they get better.

Old Fort Playground

Bare, scraped clear of anything green,
leaving behind only yards and yards of
damp rain soaked dirt.
Trees have been trimmed,
branches laying helter-skelter across the road and dirt.
What has happened to one of my favorite lunch time spots?
Are improvements in store,
or is the land being raped for other reasons?
It makes me sad to see the death and destruction
of God's natural gifts,
but I will learn patience as I watch and see
what will become of this once peaceful place.

Lunch in the Fort Park

Lunch in the Fort Park

I've come to the park to enjoy the sun,
but end up listening to the non-stop cries of a baby.
The air still holds a cooling nip as it brushes along my skin,
making occasional goosebumps stand at attention.
Wisps of hair lightly blow in a dancing sea of gold,
the rampant gray strands shine like silver.
Coffee tree pods still cling to bare branches,
shimmering in the treetops.
The grass remains brown and damp,
with a scant amount of snow still present in the dark shadows.
Long lost leaves skip across the ground with the breeze,
appearing alive, but long past prime.
A crow caws from above as a pair soar on high,
and Robins tweet and search the ground for juicy morsels of worms.
No flowers are present in this historic park -
no perennials peak their early heads.
But dogwoods appear to be budding, a promise of impending beauty.
A Sycamore tree proudly displays its beautiful white bark,
before the hand-size leaves begin to appear and hide the color from sight.
Mistletoe also clings for life, a beautiful parasite,
but up so high, only birds can see, the last pale hint of flowers.
The marriage temple stands alone, a stark contrast around the landscape,
red bricks appear fresh after a morning sprinkled by the white doors
closed in quiet relief.
The long lost sun peeks out his head to give a warming glow.
The baby has quit crying and my lunch hour is almost complete;
time to leave serenity behind for an afternoon back in the real world.

Journal of Kentucky Studies

I am so excited! One of my poems - "Silent Memories" - has been selected to be published in the next edition of the Journal of Kentucky Studies, published by Northern Kentucky University.



This will be a special issue honoring James Baker Hall.

1st Trip to Elliott County

I have permission to post this commentary from a day in the life of a TV news reporter and videographer - courtesy of Kristen Pflum (reporting) and featuring my hubby (videographer). Hilarious!! WLEX is definitely "coverage you can count on!"

1st Trip To Elliott County, Definitely A Memorable One - July 22, 2010

There aren't too many counties in central or eastern Kentucky that I have not visited in my five years at WLEX. They're serious when they say "Coverage You Can Count On," even if it's on the boundaries of our viewing area. We go EVERYWHERE.

Obviously, the big news this week has been the constant rain and the havoc it's wreaking on flood prone areas of eastern Kentucky. Monday and Tuesday it was Pikeville, overnight the northeastern part of the state took a pretty good hit, thus my trip today to Elliott County. I always thought that county looked tiny on a map. I found today, winding down miles and miles of rural roads in a 1-ton satellite truck, it's bigger than it seems.

My photographer Keith and I were trying to work quickly so that we could meet our other crew who was covering a missing woman in neighboring Carter County. Long story short, we drove several miles looking for damage visual enough to show in our 5:30 newscast and in the process of searching came across some interesting things. While I was shooting an "as-live" (as we call it) Keith and I heard something in the water. Sounded like a paddle boat swishing around, but then I heard the "mooooo!." It was a poor cow who had become stranded in the flood waters. He was coming to check out what we were doing...and scared the bageezus out of the reporter in the pink boots (me) in the process!

The stylin' pink rain boots

We were then told to keep going down the water covered road to find the bridge that was washed out over Little Brushy Creek. That's when we were told, "just turn at the big, huge red barn." If you saw the picture I posted, the barn didn't match that description AT ALL, but we found what we were looking for so no biggie...

The RED barn that was actually BLACK

When we were finished, we hit the road again that would take us to Carter County and while on our way, we saw one of the cruelest things I've ever witnessed. We were rounding a corner on one very rural road and came up on a woman who was stopped on the side of the road. As we passed (in a rolling billboard of LEX 18 I might add) the woman opened the back door and shooed a small dog out of the car, slammed the door and peeled off. The dog was so confused that he just sort of did a few circles in the middle of the road and took off into the woods. It might have been one of the more heartbreaking things I've ever witnessed. No doubt I've heard about that, but to see it actually happen was very sad. Needless to say it was a looooong day. I didn't pull into my driveway til around 8:15.

My hubby didn't get home until after 9pm because he had to drive home from Lexington.

Peace and Well-Being Seminar

Check out this new venture by one of our Inkblots:

Introducing...
Peace & Well-Being

Free Seminars this Sunday July 25th, 2010
by Ms. Pat Osborn


• Healthy Diet, from 2 to 3p.m.
• Exercise Basics, from 3 to 4 p.m.
• Goal Setting, from 4 to 5 p.m.


Harrodsburg, KY * Seating is Limited * $25 value, each


Reserve your spot in one or more classes:

peacefulone@localnet.com or 859-734-6839

My Daddy's Old Truck ....

.... and his pride and joy.

(My Daddy's on the left)