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Couched upon the mountain tops,
Winter bleeds white on stone.
The blinding haze of a million spots
Speckles the morning air,
Vaporous through crystalline glass.
Words woven like tapestry
Spark a fire from within.
Seeking answers to intrigue
That fill one with wonder --
An explosion of words to the heart.
Warmth from fire and leather
Fills flesh and bone with life.
Though seated within this cabin,
Ink and paper give respite
From a harsh landscape
Beyond the oak and nail.
A path strewn thick with rusty leaves
led to nowhere and everywhere in our fantasies,
rescuing us from after school chores
and homework pages wrinkled in time;
a memory come and gone returns to me.
Back home, under a row of willow trees, I weep
for my childhood friend, for the innocence lost,
I thought I could keep, for the faded line
between joy and pain that suddenly
comes with age; I close moist eyes to see
you dancing in rain showers and climbing up
rays of sunlight, imagination uncaged;
running carefree for hours - just us, two,
whether skies were shades of gray or blue.
We said forever, a pinky swear I remember,
naïve in our make-believe world. How many years
passed by, distance growing between you and I?
A phone call once-in-a-while became just
a Christmas card once-a-year. I hope you always
knew the truth, I loved you, my dear friend.
Time cannot erase our laughter caught
on the autumn breeze and the childhood secrets
shared on that path strewn thick with rusty leaves,
trodden bare each year come fall of winter snow.
Our laughter now echoes in dreams, chaffing
the row of willow trees still sulking low,
moss brushing tears in timeless beauty,
waiting for you to come home.
I'll be home for Christmas
home is where you are
It's where fluttering flakes
fall like stars on my face
It's where the scarlet bird sings
and a yuletide shrub sways
It's where these arms get wrapped
in your tinselled embrace
It's where the mistletoe waits
for kisses to exchange
in the old doorway's shade.
I'll be home for Christmas
home is where you are
Its where a stocking gets filled
from a candle bazaar
Its where the dough gets baked
in molds of two heart shapes
to be placed in one cookie jar
I'll be home for Christmas
home is where you are
It's where carols are sung
to the beat of the drum
It's where lights are strung
around our front porch posts
It's where endless stories
of our childhood are told
It's where dreams are made
where my love for you grows
I'll be home for Christmas
home is where you are
It's the butterflies inside
when you look in my eyes
It's the smile on your face
when we all sit down to eat
the meal you just made
I'll be home for Christmas
home is where you are
and wherever you are
it is never too far
for these feet to walk streets
for this love to come flooding
your heart.
An age-spotted hand pulls back faded flour sack curtains
in the window of an old run-down farmhouse
A woman gray hair combed neatly into a bun
peers across the side fence that belched
most of its pickets during the last fierce storm
She looks at the knotted wire clothesline
Remembers when it was filled with
little slips covered in miniature pansies
and the King Arthur logo
flapping in the springtime breeze
She preferred King Arthur to Gold Medal
for the flour sacks washed up softer
felt nicer against the skin
Her generation learned to make over
make do or do without
Her little girl once got excited
to pick the designs on new bags of flour
Then happily rode the pedal
on the treadle sewing machine
while mother stitched a new pinafore
The woman slowly moves into the kitchen
Washes up remnants of a lonely meal
Dries one cup and one plate
with a neatly hemmed flour sack towel
Remembers how she always kept
her girl's hair in tight pigtails
tied with store-bought ribbons
Some things small things
didn't have to be made by hand
Remembers the day her girl removed the braids
combed thick hair to fall loosely about her shoulders
and stepped smartly through the door
in search of her own life
So many years ago
She does now as she did then
and cries softly into her flour sack apron
For Whatever Happened to Flour Sacks contest
sponsored by Judy Konos
Like lone wolves in the night
you and I….
that through the darkness
we still hunger for justice
and for truth in all things
We want harmony
and enlightenment
To find ourselves
at peace…..as one within….
Capture the green
Feel it swirl and beckon
Verdant and healing
Complete forgiveness
Absolution from the guilt
and from the memories
Release and breathe
Let it flow……
Yes, you and I are connected
Through the regret and remorse
We search and we find light
On a path to illumination
for teaching and learning
and understanding
Love……pure and true
Acceptance of self
results in balance
and expansion
Being at one with Gaia
(and her precious gifts)
Achieving planetary consciousness
Us…..we have found
true ability to connect
to the soul of another
True augmentation of self
A home in the higher dimensions
A place that is safe to sleep
Let us dance, my love
My lone wolf…
Let us connect through spirit
(We have shed the black)
Through touch
and heart
Be mine in all things
Forever and always
You are my HEART
I hold three magic rocks, in my hand. Rolling them over and over and over. Leaving this
reality behind, far behind I stepped into the magic mirror and there I was back in 1959. It
was the same month, November. I looked around and it was the same as I remember it had
been then. Mom looked so young and beautiful and said, "The school bus will be here in a
few minutes." I looked at the calendar and saw that it was November 25th, the day before
Thanksgiving. I said, "But mom, I haven't been in school in forty years." I got this strange
look from her but she didn't say anything. Walking toward the door I caught a reflection of
myself in the hall mirror. I was so young. My hand immediately went to my face and I
stopped and stared at myself for a few minutes. I said, "Mom, can I stay home and be with
you today?" Again I got that strange look from her, then she smiled and said, "Sure, it's
your last day before Thanksgiving anyway, why not?" She and I sit down and talked for
hours. Then I said, "Do you mind if we go next door and visit with Maw Maw and Paw Paw?
I haven't seen them in so long and I've missed them terribly!" Again another strange look
from mom. Next door I saw Maw Maw and Paw Paw as they had been in 1959. I wept and
they all looked at me so strangely. I hugged them and kissed them all and we talked for
hours. Dad finally came home from work and I ran and hugged him so hard. "Dad why did
you have to leave us in June?" Again I got strange looks from everyone. My tears were
falling. I saw Aunt Frances and Uncle Bill who lived beside Maw Maw and Paw Paw. "I've
missed you both for so long." Strange looks again! They didn't understand because to them,
it was just another day in 1959. The day grew late and I knew my time was soon ending. I
got near the magic mirror and mom and dad were standing there so young and healthy. I
said, "Mom I'll see you on the other side of the mirror, but dad, I'll see you another time,
another place." They didn't understand. I stepped back through and my reflection was as it
had been before. Mom was sitting in her chair at age 84. I said, "Mom, do you remember
the day before Thanksgiving, 1959, when I stayed home from school and we spent the day
together?" She said, "Yes, it was so strange that you could never remember anything about
it. It was as though you had amnesia.
I, a Red Skin dog, as some may delight to call me,
I have heard the tales of horror, from my dark skinned foes.
I have heard the tales of terror, from others who became my friends.
And I have walked with a dark skinned woman of their tribe.
We walked in the beauty of her courage, together. Tearless.
Tearless we both were as she spoke, for tears, only gods could cry for her.
I am a Red Skin dog.
And yet we walked together and we talked – together, fearless,
I and this swaying ebony sapling, sprung from the roots of my foes tribe.
We talked of the pitiless reality of that life she left behind, of that time
That she has left, far, far behind, like a useless scar
That has toughened over. And made her stronger.
I learned from this daughter of my foes
That true courage is never fearless, but always stronger. Victorious,
Stronger she was by far, to this Red Skin dog
Than the thousand sons who died, in her honor. So they say. Ridiculous,
But I have heard the balance of their sins.
And for all the tales I have heard from those angry young men, and their vengeful fathers
Her horror was a thousand times more sinister. A thousand times more callous.
Horror took up residence in her home but never in her heart.
But for others, I cannot speak.
"…splinters and bursting fragments…in my mind
Ai! Tearing! Memory of tearing flesh, swallowing tears and mucus, blood and bile
…bruising and ripping garments…off my body
…filthy, familiar hands tearing at my dress…
…my legs split and broken like a wild pig slaughter, my screams smashed from my lips,
With the butt of a rifle, just used to kill a Red Skin dog…
Aieee! Clean this floor mama, mop up this spew!
It cannot be mine!
This child is not mine!
It is not mine! It is the devils own creation born in hell fire!
Born in my death!
Aieee! I am dead, I cannot be alive.
I am dead and the Red Skin dogs have eaten my corpse.
Those spirits in their wingless chariot flew over the land and sea, to rescue me?
Rescue me from that black devil who said he was like Jesus to me.
I thought you were my uncle-brother…
Who else could have found us here?
Hidden away from the Red Skins and their Wingless Angels.
Only you my uncle-brother
Only you could have found us
Only you could have killed us.
And now the progeny of your evil deed suckles at my breasts
As I lie dead in the home of those Red Skin dogs you fought."
The Heart Of The Edifice
In the midst of the forest
Of skeletal trees, green cedar, pine, and brush is the thickest
Standing so tall and blissful
Enduring weathering and erosion that slowly chisels,
Earth's rock into ever evolving work of art
A rock structure that use to be the heart
Of the edifice where long time recurrence
Of lives that lived with endurance
The, hiss, crackling fire persuades
Warm comfort
From a chilly cold winter day,
Or soaked from the hard pounding rain
That chills to the bone
The scents of smoke, mixed with spice food,
Coffee, and bread cooking in a cast iron Dutch oven
Now habitat of natures small creatures
A rock structure that use to be the heart of the edifice
Standing so tall and blissful
In the midst of the forest
Of skeletal trees, green cedar, pine, and brush is the thickest
Enduring weathering and erosion that slowly chisels,
Earth's rock into ever evolving work of art
Contest Name: Your Favourite Old Poem #3
Sponsor:Shadow Hamilton
My family is everywhere like wild seeds sown
On the whim and bluster of a wind
Some left for Cuba before the revolution
Bring green stalks of sweet grass to sugar
And are still there, root sunken in the earth
Grafted branches without memory now
Or recognition of ancestral home,
Separated by language and new history
Thick as the depth of our watery boundaries.
Some in Panama built the canal, but no bridge
For home when their meagre cents were spent
Too soon. I met a few with little knowledge
But no anxiety for early morning mist of blue
Over the mountain, looking still to see them
Coming home like birds when summer is done.
Some went to Venezuela to see the oil
They said was black as Africa in the new world
Brazil: there football is more than economy
Gladiators: bloodless troubadors of the new army
And many drifted into the squalor of Costa Rica,
Nicaragua, Ecuador, searching for light
Amidst old civilizations brought to ruins
By Conquistadores majesty and Roman might.
The only one who report are those from Canada
Is it because of the language, because they proper
As they do in America. Is there nothing in them
That longs for home, to leave the Mexico to her Aztecs
Her cactus lace with golden strands of sun.
When I was in Germany, Austria, France, far away
As Holland, Rhine and Danube linking invisble
Heritage, I met them, distancing the old decay
"We are thinking to move to Taiwan or Japan"
They told me, poverty does make a barren land
So I understand the boat people, not lying
Like Columbus, they seek the same treasure
And yet for their truth reap some displeasure.
I could package it for them to sell, but cannot agree
When the wind rattle the wattle of desolation.
My family is everywhere scattered like wild seeds
In fresh forests fretting with the burden of the wind.
Home Of The Hang Man
The children are so full of doubt
No one is allowed to speak
No one is allowed to shout
Opinions are driven underground
Seems that every time they do it wrong
Always been the same old song
Never get it right
Never allowed to speak
Never allowed to fight
It's a strange house
The children are so full of doubt
A strange house
The kids just don't understand
They don't see that this is the way it's all been planned
Keep them frightened is the game
Then all those "other" things won't need to be explained
Why is big brother always mad
Why is younger brother always sad
Why does he sit in his bedroom all alone
Because it's a strange house
And not a home
It's a strange house
The children are so full of doubt
A strange house
Everything they do or say
Is turned into to a weapon to build upon the barricade
And Dad pretends he's not afraid
Of the sudden discovery of suffocated memories
The dark deeds linger in a cage
Of ridicule and violence that makes the babies cry
So Mum has buried her suspicions worryings away
In Sunday lunches usual farce
A make believe gathering of corrupted loving and pretended merry making
It's a strange house
The kids are so full of doubt
A strange house
Big brother hit the self destruct
With pills and needles long before he decided he was gay
No one ever asked him why he was so mad
And no one ever asked why younger brother was so sad
He sits up stairs in his room
Surviving in a sea of doubt
The suffocated memories have all come out
He's always sad and he's always alone
The babies to they both have grown
But he doesn't know them anymore
It's been so long since he left that so called home
It's a strange home
The children are so full of doubt
A strange house
Their children are so full of doubt
Brought up and made this way
All their futures turn to grey
As all the buried memories fight their own way out
Remember why they always felt so wrong
Remember what happened when we were young
And mother just closed her eyes she did not help
All the future turns to grey
Brought up and made to be this way
Father was the hang man who took their lives away
My house is not always a happy home .
Journee's we all take – from time to time -
take me into thoughts travelling on roads to the past,
where I walk with ghosts, that sometimes haunt,
along with spirits that fly – free – into the sublime.
Both sojourn with me to places where dreams,
nightmares find refuge, incubate, where they be
- the facts of life – one carries with them to the end.
For sanity to survive, one must make both friend.
Unlike most else in life, they are with us forever,
even if we burry, no longer see them in the light of day.
Like most else that moves on, they will not fade away,
just hide in dark corners of our house until night key
comes to unlock the subconscious, set the ghosts free.
That is the nature of the psychological, mind game
that human nature - the gods – have ingrained in you and me
and that is what ties us together as one, in there, we are the same.
August 22nd 2004
Do you know what its like to be
in absolute darkness?
I do.
And I want to be back
on a foggy night
where winter doesn't fall too far
the only thing you can see
is a distant street light
yellow and gold
glowing from the distance
the wet leaves that fell from the trees
fill the night
with a dewy smell
I turn the key
bright headlights
flood the road
one line, two lines,
they all combine
into a white blur keeping me
from crossing into the abyss
I could drive forever
I want to be gone again
back to my home.
That big Christmas surprise
that look in the little girls eyes
So playful and young
could do no wrong
constant hugs and kisses
sad eyes I sure do miss us
Left alone when you went to school
The smell of you in that leather shoe
drank to much water
sorry I couldn't wait for you
The pain in that big old boot
What had I done to you?
Why are you holding me
in that big wet spot of pee?
Locked in this little room
no lights no food
I just want to play with you
Finally let out so happy to see you
Jump up and try to kiss you
just get pushed down yelled at
Why did you raise your fist?
I only wanted a playful kiss
where are those hugs and kisses?
sad eyes I sure do miss us
Lonely days and nights
locked up and chained
I bark only to say hello
you hit me throw me in that hole
why won't you play with me?
I love you cant you see
A ride out to that farm
You told her "he'll love it it'll be great"
she cries and runs to her room
you grab my collar and take me away
I just want your hugs and kisses
sad eyes I sure do miss us
Frightened and all alone
wandering trying to find home
Shivering and hungry in the rain
Life will never be the same
What did I ever do to you?
Was it wrong for loving you?
Picked up by a strange old man
thrown in the back of a white panel van
given shelter, water and food
first time I ever heard I was good
give me hugs and kisses but I'm scared
you will only hit me and disappear
Assured I will go to a good home
a great place I can run free and roam
there will be love and laughter and cheer
and that person I never will fear
there will be walks and plenty of games
life as I know won't be the same
I knew it the day she walked in
Soft caring eyes and a beautiful grin
She bent down and petted my fur
I could feel it was going to be her
took me home and captured my heart
from that day forward we would never depart
Going to lick every inch of her loving face
because God gave me you by His good grace
so give me all of your hugs and your kisses
I'm finally home no more ever will I miss us
I woke up today greeted by rain
Yet my heart is filled with light
My friend
My sweet friend
She has returned
She heard my call
Read my words
Felt my sadness
Others added their voices
Comforted me
Expressed love for her
There is grace within this place
Amongst The thorns
At times it can drain
Be a source of pain
Yet it lifts us once again
We humans have our faults
He hurt one another
Sisters friends and brothers
Yet we are more
Much more
We are better together
Within the storms we weather
Today is a day of celebration
Filled with elation
After contemplation
Becca has returned
So on my face is a smile
I let out a sigh
I never wanted to say goodbye
"Where I'm From"
I am from pliers
from Tylenol and vanilla bean perfume.
I am from the budding rose bush,
the aloe vera plant
whose salve heals my burns.
I am from the tee-ball bat in the garage
the ballet bar in the studio.
I am from princess pajamas and my favorite stuffed animal
from sandy beaches and mountain views.
I'm from lessons learned and the hard way,
from spankings and timeouts in my bedroom.
I'm from wood flooring and hazel eyes
and southern cooking grandmothers.
I'm from the brewing of sweet tea and
the individual stitches on quilts.
From the "no no's" and
the land flowing with "milk and honey."
I'm from early Sunday mornings,
in a polk-a-dot dress and black patent shoes.
I'm from the foothills,
green beans and heavily buttered cornbread.
From the crown and sash of Miss Catawba Valley
the receding hairline of my father.
They are on the top shelf in my closet
a box of baby pictures and birthday cards.
It holds my memories, so that I may never forget
Where I'm from.
Going Home
There's been so many things
That I've run from
Been so many things
That I have run to
Some times with open arms
Sometimes on my knees
The dusty pavements and paths
Have welcomed me
Searching in the dark
By match burnt candle light
Walking in the tunnels
Of too bright sun light
Tracks which lead to the mountain head
Where thin air led my heart
Back to the valleys
Where you slept
Through barren grass
So many in their fields
Just veins inside a forest floor
Wandering forever lost
To the sea the roads have brought me
To the waves which can only show me
A map to guide me
Back to you
And on the tourist clouds
Which escape at sunset
On the freedom breeze
Where their colours breathe me
I no longer roam
I find my way back home
While the foot prints that I leave
No longer matter
The sands of time
Lost to their own desert
Just a life inside an hourglass
I haven't roamed on these bridges
Of forever
Just to end the single thread
Which has lead me
Balanced on the tight rope
Of your heart
And it may be the freezing rain
Which comes to batter
And there may be no light at all
Upon the road
Still the tower of your love
Still shines there before me
A compass to guide me on
And on the day
When the sun billows into being
And the sails of love
Will find my tired feet
When your hand is no longer the ghost
Which saves me
But a palm that reaches out
To feel my own
I will no longer roam
I will have found my way
Back home
Moving quietly so not to wake her,
My lover half covered sighs like a purr,
We have had our pleasure
And now it's time for me to leave.
But the sight and smell causes me
A moment's thrill as I remember
our first kiss.
But I must leave, no time to dwell,
Thoughts of what could be,
Bow down to what life must be.
Without her my life is grey,
At home my other life awaits,
Here I am a lover,
At home I am needed -
but as a wife and mother.
The karmic wheel turned
to a world torn and burned
by war and lust and greed
and this Incarnations' need
to Love.
Tentatively, the teen reached out
(from the childs' abuse and doubt)
to the grown-up herd
and the curious word
said to be ... Love ...
which led to a merry-go-round
a wheel of names bound
by their own karmic games.
I could have stayed Home,
never come to wander and roam
an Earth of endless pain.
If not for the beauty of mountain and plain
and sunset shore, I'd go ...
but I'd leave a little dog behind
whose Love I do know.
So I will stay here long
amused at how I chose wrong
and left that Light called Home
far beyond this space
toward where my soul does race
to return to ... until another time ...
Or perhaps, to leave no more.
A solitary piece the diamond
precious rare gem most treasured
by those lucky enough to hold
Once in possession it is rarely out of grasp
Like the gemstone the mother
requires very specific conditions
in holding fast her (family/) childrens love
Treasured forever in her heart
she will go out of her way
to preen and protect them
holding them dear to her
deep within her maternal safe – the heart
closely guarded by the mind
Her infatuation of all treasures to her
are totally understandable
especially when you think to the complexity
of structure and process taken in creation
Just as from the 'unbreakable' in ancient greek
this alletrope of carbon
with strength of bonding between atoms
is representative of that strong love
between mum and child
The maternal being could be compared
to the superlative physical qualities of the stone
Even the characteristic luster
of this gem so prevaient from its ability
to disperse light and colour
compared to the many strengths, roles and qualities
of the mother
seen by the many she deals with daily
A most high pressured job
versus the high pressured temperature
within the Earths mantle
that forms the delightful rock it gives birth to
Infants delight and ignite the forbearer
just as the jewel would dazzle the room
a mother's love encaptures the magical luster
of those she's birthed and nothing
stands inbetween this richest of cargo's
"I Do Believe"
The purpose of LIFE is to {Living In Faith Ever}
to enrich God within us
to an optimum level
so that We as Humans
can be guided by God
to fuel out brothers and sisters
with the same driving force
to connect with the living God,
to His existence and
to See the Invisible,
Believe the Incredible, and
to Receive the Impossible
to our everlasting journey
to Heaven.
Rev. Samuel Mack
Copyright 2013
8:00 am
I listen to hums of 70 degree air conditioned whispers.
Playful, chirping birds swing across damp meadows
Under humidity's gentle fog
'Tis a silent morning, 5 days in the making
A gentle reflection upon my minutes,
Absorbing breaths of home
So much laughter
So much joy
So much food
Even a miniscule side of frustration's true colors,
Amusing attempts to sludge my momentum
My friends made themselves known.
The others become answered insignificance.
My beating heart couldn't be more grateful.
My pupils reflect upon final nights' splendor,
While they write lessons upon life's chalkboard
Fury of Salsa & Disco beats
Pulsate across my spongy cerebellum
Holding hands with my Mother in proprietary motions
The whites of my eyes become silver injected pools of serenity.
What more could I ask for?
I listen for 8 & 4 year old footsteps to silently speak
Exacerbated adoration, filling my smile with electric permanence
In these silent, reflecting moments before I pack my bag, my soul's window
…I await aromas of a Puerto Rican brunch
Before I go home
I await touches of a gentle waterfall against my cheek
Before I go home
I await exemplary wishes from roots of family tree to return tomorrow
Before I go home
And, after these shedding tears & resilient smiles are embedded within,
I await the reckoning that will shake foundations into Ionosphere grins
When I
Return home
8:30 am
©Drake J. Eszes
My friends come home draped in flags
I pause at the edge of the airplane door
Facing a tunnel leading me to a muffled joy
Strangers tell me I am related to them...
I deny a woman with three kids... her kiss
My friends are slipping in trucks with flags
They are loaded and back doors explode shut...
I wake up in a trench of blood and clean pillows
The same woman from the airport next to me
Peacefully breathing...and I thought she was dead...
I think I am finally home, fans are not propellers
Camouflage doesn't bear swing sets in backyards
My friends' helmets, guns and boots line up in my head
Patrolling with weapons made of aluminum foil
There is too much silence for a dead soldier walking...
I think I FEEL the kiss of the woman with three kids ...
There is one place in this lonely life
where I can run away to on this long, dark road.
Only the moon knows my way home tonight
and I hold the key to this door in my heart.
I see an open book still on the table
waiting for my eyes to read again,
and an inviting, marshallow-soft pillow,
offering to cradle my sleepy head
and uphold me in what dreams may come....
The warmth of home is where my heart is tonight.
(This poem was inspired by the song "Home Sweet Home" by Motley Crue.)
"A Blessed Year"
in the Year of 2012 our reflection
reminded how truly blessed
our family felt with strong emotion.
a new home with lovely trees
and blossoming bushes flourished
green grass for animals to enjoy
beautiful birds singing melodies
acres of ground for gatherings
and celebrations.
happiness surrounded new parents
my military son and his wife
welcomed new baby boy with
pride and joy and love.
God has given us so many reasons
to cherish each other and Life
for love rules our home always.
through sickness and death
we fought the good fight of faith
and trials made us a strong family
material possessions allow feelings
of importance ... but ...
we learned that love is the
key element to this earthly existence.
so in the Year of 2012
we share this love with everyone
thus extolling God, who loves us all
*For Carol Sunshine Brown's In the Year 2012 Contest.
If you lose yourself in this great big world
Where you gonna end up?
How you gonna find your way back home?
There are signs around just try to see them
Then you'll find your way back home.
Look into the eyes of a new born babe
Stare nature in its face
Look into the mirror and see who's there
Do you reflect the face of love?
That will be your guide to the way
Back home, God loves you still
He'll guide you back home
To those who love you still.
Just be kind to yourself, love yourself.
Then you'll find your way back home.
my mind takes me back through the tattered pages of my life
to a place of warmth, security and love . . . . .
to my mother's kitchen with its big cupboards and old stove
and a blue teapot on the kitchen table and grandma telling me of life
of people in the family long dead . . .
it was at that same table that I read my first poems while sipping tea
oh! I recall father shovelling snow in winter all bundled up
and a warm fireplace waiting within . . .
then at night in an attic room this little girl was tucked in
with forever loving hands, hugs and kisses . . . .
January 24, 2015
Free Verse
Entered in the contest, Home Sweet Home, sponsor Skat
Third Place
Sun declines, beneath the emerald rim
And I'll be headin' home...
to a cottage in the moor lands
with a fire to warm me' bones
The kettle of beans are boilin'
and some coals will bake me scones
I will rest my weary shoulders
And be glad for what I've seen
I've witnessed bracken turn so reddin'
like a wildfire on the mountain
And wee nanny goats on hillsides,
too many now, for countin'
Heather waves in summer breezes...
Granite stones, and bogs of grass,
water gleams like shining glass
and harshness blows for but a reason
to turn around the seasons
Thar' be wavin' sails upon the blue
And leafy shamrocks on the green
Where rugged shores, and seagulls cry,
and pink skies capture me
Friendly folks be bearin' ruddy cheeks,
There's a colleen, fair thee lass
Who will tip our mug at village pub,
And we'll make a toast to Patrick's kin
and order one more glass
Let me always sink me' Irish eyes
upon the rugged land
Upon the skies, upon the streams,
where druid legends live
Upon the grand home of the clan,
where many roots began
Where the ole' pale moon at nightfall,
scatters me memories all a'glowing
Of fair thee rose of old Tralee,
over garden trellis growin'
Charming valleys, greener hillsides,
fill thee heart of all 'me clan
Pick ye' a shamrock.... look for gold,
shake yer' hands with leprechauns
Kiss a Blarney stone in sweet Killarny,
come to all that's home to me
Where names of O'Reily, or McDougal sprung
and the color green began
From where I am I now begin
So over my head, so over my self
How can the future be my home
When I'm not here now?
I need to make a detour and return to my home.
The reality I have now,
My heart pounding, am still breathing.
But if I just have now, will I go overboard?
Will I indulge and loose it all?
There has to be a place that makes them whole
All in one and one in all.
Where is that place that I call home?
Where is it?
Where is it?
Is it here?
Is it there?
Is it now?
Or was it then?
Will I get to it
And give my mind some rest?
Me Me Me
Don't block the way
I need to find my home today
I see it now from far away.
But the past has gone to rest
And the future has not come yet
So what is left is all present
Where the heart finds what it needs
Not looking beyond what it does
In its rhythm it says:
The present boundless
The past hopeless
The future does not exist
But all come together in one place
A place that makes them whole
This is it, the present
This is home.
Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin
Whisper lies as I let you in
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail
I shall daily visit the beauty parlor
And make myself beautiful for you.
I shall never clean the house
So that my skin is not tarred.
I shall ever watch my figure,
Eating calorie less foods and drinks.
I shall stay home all day
And will never be stay at home mom
But will go for Disco at night.
I shall not take drugs
But a drink or two in limits.
I shall awake late in the morning
So that you are not disturbed.
I shall adorn the house to earn
Adjectives from the neighbours.
I shall buy the furniture to invent
Nouns to be told to the visitors.
Our house will be all pronouns
But will never admit verbs as
They shake the very foundation.
*** I wrote this poem much earlier noticing a young married woman of a modest family adopting the modern living going astray from the household chores *** Based on a real
The poem was posted on 1/16/2007
Dr. Ram Mehta
Tenth place win in:
Contest: Any Twisted Poem sponsored by Destroyer A Poet


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July 7
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There is no better time to be as patriotic and All-American than the 4th of July. All you need is an awesome playlist to get the country-time, denim shorts, boot wearing, beer drinking day going and appreciate the wonderful country that is the USA.
A little papier-mâché and a bit of help from Crayola and we've got ourselves a masterpiece. Some of us were not #blessed with creative talents and painter's fingers. Instead, we sit behind screens and admire those who have some serious artistic skills.
It's easy to get caught up in the July 4th madness and stack the calories on top of carbs on top of fat, but let's take a step back and remember we are trying to lead a healthy lifestyle. Step one is to eat right, even if that means finding alternatives to the main meals that sometimes make holidays special.
I'm always looking for new ways to spice up my beauty style, and that's no more true than in June—the official start of summer wedding season. Whether I'm heading to an outdoor wedding in the Hamptons or a seaside celebration in South Beach, I love to get creative with my hair and makeup look.
Time to get all red white and blueberry pancakes. All for the love of brunch. And America. Fete the fourth the American way and throw some food at your face at any one of our top five restaurants in our holiday edit!
For those looking to escape the city for a weekend but still maintain their city comforts, we've rounded up our top luxury weekend getaways.
Grab your ticket to the inaugural New York Heritage Salon & Bounty event hosted by Toasting the Town. Foodie and cocktail enthusiasts alike will enjoy an evening of bountiful craft cocktails by Jack Daniels, Monkey Shoulder, Partida and more as well as signature tastings from leading New York staples including McSorley's and Serendipity amongst others.
Wednesday evening, the New Museum hosted its annual white party themed, #NewYachtRock opening up the museum for an night of rooftop dancing and photo-ops in nautical attire as the sun set over the Manhattan skyline.
GYPSY CIRCLE celebrated their latest release on the App store at Hotel Americano. Sponsors included Minibar, ALOHA, and JetSet Candy. Get it free HERE!
Tonight, 50 Cent hosts a birthday affair at Space Ibiza NYC, Style Lend makes its' debut in New York at Serafina Meatpacking, and more!. As always, for full details and more be sure to check out our calendar

subset: commoncrawl


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Article | July 31, 2000
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My husband and I both love the sculpture. It looks great on our wall - we found the perfect spot.
We bought this to go in our entrance above the stairs. It is beautiful!!
Beautiful! It is large and needs lots of space. It's beauty is that it looks 2 dimensional and when you look at it it seems like there is a breeze in the air. Highly recommend.
beautiful, fits the spot perfectly.
This willow tree so exceeded my expectations that I ordered one for my daughter as well. The detail is excellent and it is so much larger than it appears. Very graceful and serene. I love love love it!!! You won't be disappointed.
Bought this to hang on a tall living room wall (12'). The size of the tree works well for this and it is nicely detailed.
It came quickly, packaged very good. This product was excellant just like all your products have been. I really wish I could afford to shop at your business more often.
looks even better than I expected, made well
arrived in a timely fashion, securely packaged it looks even better than I expected adorning the wall at the end of my hall, it faces the front door so everyone will see it when they come in!
This is really nice. Good quality metal. Not cheap looking.
Looks just like the picture, right dimensions & overall exactly what I was looking for to fill the space.
I like it


text:
Combating the negative impacts of reality TV on girls' sense of self
Adam Larkey, Associated Press
In early 2003, Elyse Sewell was a relatively anonymous 20-year-old research assistant at a biology lab. She aspired to attend medical school, having recently graduated magna cum laude from the University of New Mexico with a double major in Spanish and biology.
Instead, Sewell found herself in Hollywood starring in the debut season of the reality TV show "America's Next Top Model." Her 5-foot-10, 114-pound body was a perfect fit for the competition; Sewell effortlessly advanced to be one of the final three contestants competing for a $100,000 modeling contract from Revlon.
Then, unprovoked, show host Tyra Banks ushered Sewell off "America's Next Top Model" with a jaw-dropping dig.
"Elyse, your look is very strong for the fashion world — for the hard-core, die-hard fashion world," said Banks, herself a supermodel. "I admire your intelligence — I think you are so smart. But one thing with that intelligence is it can intimidate people. And there's a way to use that intelligence in a way that doesn't feel like you're maybe putting down other people or sounding derogatory."
Translation: while you look anorexic enough to work as a model, there's really no place on my reality TV show for an intelligent and self-assured woman.
As media critic and journalist Jennifer Pozner watched this scene unfold on TV in the summer of 2003, it set her mind racing. What would girls watching the show take away from the comments — that a mind is a terrible thing to use?
By that time, a couple years had already passed since Pozner founded Women in Media & News to increase awareness about women's portrayal in media. In 2010 she also wrote a book, "Reality Bites Back: the Troubling Truth about Guilty Pleasure TV," that examines the societal implications of reality TV and offers practical tips for improving media literacy.
"I kept noticing more and more deeply problematic, regressive ideologies packaged on reality TV as if they were a reflection of just who we happen to be as Americans today," she said.
Pozner's perspective is increasingly relevant in light of the fact that millions of Americans are watching reality TV each day. Consider, for example, that a typical episode of MTV's "Jersey Shore" — the most-watched reality TV show for children age 12-17 during the 2011 television season — attracts about 5 million viewers. Additionally, in recent weeks the Fox franchise "American Idol" attracted a combined 34 million viewers for a pair of shows on back-to-back weeknights.
New research indicates that a growing cadre of this reality programming is especially detrimental to girls because of what the Parents Television Council, a non-partisan education organization advocating responsible entertainment, calls "a disturbingly unrealistic portrayal of 'reality' with harsh, demeaning, degrading and sexualized dialogue." For example, according to the Girl Scout Research Institute, girls age 11-17 who regularly watch reality TV are much more inclined than reality TV non-watchers to agree with statements like "Gossiping is a normal part of a relationship between girls" and "Being mean earns you more respect than being nice."
Because reality TV really started gaining a major cultural foothold in 2002, it follows that the girls who are now teenagers have never known a media landscape that didn't prominently feature reality TV.
"It doesn't surprise me that preteens and teenagers wouldn't be overly critical about this genre," Pozner explained. "They have grown up with TV that tells them that this is reflecting real people and real life, without telling them that this is a highly edited, manipulated surreality that only seeks out people who can be turned into caricatures."
And yet, despite the potential pitfalls reality TV poses younger viewers, effective strategies exist for parents to shield their teens from the most unsavory content today and, in the long run, prepare those impressionable minds to become tomorrow's savvy and informed consumers of media.
An indelible impact
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Jamun: Several health benefits, but beware of buying from the roadside
Top Stories
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The jamun tree, native to India, thrives easily in hardy tropical regions and is found in all parts of our subcontinent as well as countries of Southeast Asia and Eastern Africa. In India, this large evergreen tree, is grown widely in the Gangetic plains, and the Cauvery delta in Tamil Nadu. The tree bears fruit for 60 to 70 years and the fruits ripen in June or July.
It is known by several local names such as jambas, jamun, jambolan, rajaman, kala jamun, neredu, naval, nerale, jamali, java plum, black plum and black berry.
This purple tropical berry has a unique taste, colour and flavour. The most commonly found variety of jamun is often oblong and has a deep purple to bluish colour. The pulp of the fruit is grey or pink and has a seed in the centre. Another common variety is seedless.
The fruit is acidic and astringent in nature, with a sweet taste. Due to its acidic nature, it is usually eaten with a sprinkling of salt. Children are fond of this fruit as it colours the tongue purple due to anthocyanin, a plant pigment.
Jamun is 70 per cent edible. Glucose and fructose are major sugars found in a ripe jamun. The fruit is laden with a large number of minerals and provides fewer calories compared to other fruits. A medium-sized jamun provides about 3-4 calories. The seed of the fruit is also rich in protein carbohydrates and traces of calcium. It is also a source of iron, providing 1-2 mg per 100 grams and also vitamin C, providing 18 mg per 100 grams (the daily adult requirement of this vitamin is 40 mg). It provides folate and vitamin B, carotene, phytochemicals (anti-oxidants), magnesium, potassium and fibre.
Jamun is believed to be of special use in treatment of diabetes. In Unani and Ayurvedic system, it is used to treat digestive disorders including diarrohea. Extracts of the bark, seeds and leaves have been found to cause a marked prolonged decrease in blood sugar and glycouria (sugar in urine). Several studies provide evidence that jamun has hypoglycemic effects with up to 30 per cent reduction in blood sugar reported in some studies. Seeds are rich in alkaloids which have hypoglycemic effects.
... contd.