Poetry in Photos

If it is said that a picture is worth a thousand words,

Where does that leave a wall covered in picture frames of every shape and size...?

Just like the people within the frames.

Young, old, smiling, serious.

Each face tells a story.

Each story touches a heart.

That heart was my father's.

It is these photos he saw both day and night --

When he first opened his eyes in the morning

And when he closed them at night.

It was his wall of naches, his wall of pride.

The generations before him.

The generations after him.

A life well lived.

I looked at that wall today.

The wall between the bed and the dresser,

also covered in frames of every shape and size.

The wall was full.

The bed was empty.

A Poem Written in August 1993

I just found this poem I wrote on Friday, August 27, 1993. (at that point, I was officially engaged for 5 days!)
When I read old poems of mine, I pretty much recall having written them and what was going on at the time. If I recall correctly, this scene took place at a subway or bus station.

She wore one pink shoe,

She wore one white shoe --

She was blind.

I knew. I could tell --

She had a white cane.

She clicked around,

looking for an opening

 to go through.

Click, click. Tap, tap.

Bang, bang --

oops!

A tall blonde approached,

leaned close,

whispered some words.

An arm was extended.

A hand held on.

And they set off.

Click, click. Tap, tap.

A pink shoe

And a white shoe --

Mismatched.

Almost a Slip of the Tongue

I was listening to my younger son practice guitar just now; he recently started lessons and is a quick study in this instrument...thanks to his wonderful memory and an ear for music.

He was trying to figure out a correct starting note and said: "Just a sec."

I was just about to open my mouth and say something and it suddenly hit me just how that something would have sounded: "I have all the secs in the world."

Sometimes it pays to keep your mouth shut!

Rotation

Today I sat at the kitchen table

in front of the black microwave

watching the glass plate within

go round and round.

Three minutes wasn't enough

for the heat to absorb.

I topped it up to six

and watched the glass plate within

go round and round

on the turntable.

I realized I ought to get a life.

To sit and stare at melting wax

in a container on a plate

is no way to discover the world.

I ought to get out and ride the carousel of life.

Pick a colorful horse

or a unicorn

upon which to seat myself

and go round and round

as the sights blur into an ever-changing

kaleidoscope.

Perhaps my horse, like Mary Poppins',

will have a mind of its own,

and will jump off the carousel

to explore the countryside,

bobbing up and down

in a delightful rhythm.

I ought to get out and ride the carousel of life.

(...but in the meantime, I'll just write a poem.)

A Film and Other Stuff

I watched a wonderful, brilliantly acted film tonight on TV -- The Soloist -- starring Jaime Foxx and Robert Downey, Jr. It was released last year at the theaters, and I watched it on a movie channel.

Interestingly enough, just before the movie began, I'd watched Mr. Foxx on American Idol do his mentoring. When the show was over, I channel surfed and came across this wonderful film.

Read about it over here, and rent it if you can. It bridges the topics of friendship, music, talent, mental illness. Wow, what a combination.

AND it's based on a true story.

I did volunteering with mentally challenged adults for several years, and see that mental disabilities come in varying degrees. That was something to keep in mind as I watched this film and saw, not only the Jaime Foxx character, but the secondary characters as well.

The truth is that one never knows what impact one can have on someone else's life...and such is an underlying message to this movie...on both male protagonists' parts.

***********

Something "funny" that I observed today in the supermarket...

A young man walked in. Clearly he was mentally challenged, and began walking through the produce aisles calling, "Stella...Stella." He was looking up and down the aisles, and as he walked away calling the name, I wondered if perhaps I should go and speak to him and ask him who Stella was and if I could help him find her.

At that point, I heard that familiar Marlon Brando-esque yell: "STELLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA..."

Apparently, this man eventually found Stella in another aisle, and they were cajoling with one another, and then later on meeting up with a larger group of young adults.

He found his Stella and I found my smile!

1068

This is my 1068th post, since I began the blog in December 2004.

It's not as if I have much to say this evening, but I liked the idea of writing a 1068th post. What the heck did I have to talk about in the previous 1067 posts, I wonder?

Every now and again -- less seldom these days -- I review my earliest posts. It's interesting to see if and how my writing has evolved; what caught my interest...say in May 2005...as opposed to May 2009; which bloggers responded to my posts in the early days (very few) and who comments now (very few).

I used to blog about not having comments; someone advised me to just keep writing, and they (readers) will come, read and post. Or I was told to comment on other peoples' blogs, and in doing so, people would see my name and perhaps be curious to visit my blog on a sporadic or regular basis... and thus my blog developed.

I write blog posts less frequently these days; I read fewer blogs these days. My interests in reading blogs remains the same: personal stories, family dynamics, medical issues, a typical day in the life of a suburban mom or dad, entertainment trivia, household hints, recipes from the kitchen, religious personal quests. I've never been keen on politics or too taken with current events and religious battles.

Humorous blogs still grab me and sustain me. One recognizes that it's not just a blog post that has humor shine through, but often enough, the volleying of comments that follow are equally...if not more...humorous than the post itself.

I'm hoping that my next blog post -- #1069  -- might offer something more meaty than just my rambling thoughts...but then again, aren't "my rambling thoughts" the basis of pearlies of wisdom after all...?

WIN!

I'm notorious for entering contests...and yes, winning. Not huge prizes, but prizes nonetheless...most often books. I'd love to win a contest based on my talent or my logic and abilities, but I'll take anything. :)

I was just going to enter a contest: SPRING WARDROBE SHOPPING SPREE. I could win one of five $2000 spring wardrobe shopping sprees.

Then I read the fine print: I can enter online until July 2nd, or I can enter by snail mail and the envelope must be postmarked by July 13th. The draw will be held July 15.

HELLO...? The contest is called "Spring Wardrobe Shopping Spree" and the draw date is July 15th. Is that spring...have the seasons been switched around on me?

Come July 15th, I'd be shopping for "back to school/fall" fashions, or snatching up summer finery, which tends to be pushed out the doors of stores and into the mall sidewalk sales, the second week of July.

Will I buy my "spring bonnet" in mid-July? I don't think so.

Hey, Robin Hood company, what were your marketing copywriters thinking of when they planned this contest? Why not just call it "New Wardrobe Shopping Spree" if these are the cut-off dates of the contest?

Nonetheless, I think that on July 15th, my name ought to be drawn and deemed a winner, considering my deep introspection about this contest.

Okay, and if you want me to plant some "spring" flowers to enhance the "spring" wardrobe I'll pick out for myself...so be it!