Traditions

A radio station in Michigan begins to play Christmas music November 1st each year. In past years, I didn't want to listen to their station until after Thanksgiving. I was not ready that early to rush into the holiday season.

This year I jumped right in as a listener of songs like Jingle Bells and Chestnuts roasting on an open fire the second week of November and have been loving every moment. My spirit of celebration has soared for four weeks already. I'm happy it is so. Music always gives me a sense of renewal and joy.

Other traditions that add to my cheer during this season is putting the ornaments on the tree, going for a ride to look at lights, watching classic movies. My favorites are Prancer and It's a Wonderful Life. The Polar Express is pretty special too.

What are your favorite traditions during this season?

Naming

This is the poem I wrote on a night when the moon

whispered in my ear a tall tale . . .

This is the poem that named this blog.

Red Silk Streams

In the sparrow of night, when the bright
milk cow hangs clear-eyed over my house,
I come alive, a word vampire hungry

for alphabet prey that can transform

chicken soup into a bedtime story.

With its forked tongue hissing tsk tsk,
the midnight udder pulls poems out of my
sleeve in red silk streams, newborns gurgling,
babies who need milk and burping.

Birthed into a world of bloodletting, the poems
pick my bones for marrow, quiver truth
from my beating heart, challenge me
with a checkmate to my rook.

When flamingo lifts morning, poems
hang off the balcony and jump to freedom,
filled with blood and milk and dreams.
I'm left with missing eyeteeth.

********

What's the story behind your blog name?

Happy Thanksgiving!

Peace and Blessings!

Hello Little Bird . . .

When life weighs you down, write about it. It is amazing how word expression in many forms helps us unload our worries. It's a lesson I know but sometimes forget. I get lost in the haze of daily to-do's and frets instead of taking action. Writing in a journal, on-line, or even making a statement to someone out loud is an effective form of release.

My last post was just that. I needed to unpack those concerns from my backpack, lay them out in the light. It allowed me to breathe without them looking over my shoulder, second-guessing my security and courage.

Lining up those words in neat little sentences broke their hold over me. Thursday at my poetry class I told my teacher, "I can't seem to write, right now." There. It was out. Dispersed into the air. Dissolved into the nothingness that appears to block the way.

I left class with inspiration, a suggested title for a poem. Today words flow and the poem is stirring within me. A fragile bird that will expand its wings. And me with it.

Not So Peachy Keen

The empty nest syndrome has reared its head fiercely this fall. I thought this syndrome was a one-shot deal. NOT! I miss having my son around. He's currently at Ft. Campbell in Kentucky.

Someone stole my cell phone number and used it in a fraud of buying cell phones that were delivered to a California address. Yikes!

Today I walked in the yard among empty tree branches and bushes and actually felt for a brief second that I could embrace the exposed bare bones of nature. Acceptance is a practiced virtue. And winter does have its charms (did I say that?)

I have considered deleting my blog more than 8 times in the last few months. At times I'm not sure of the purpose. Is it doing something for someone out there? I admit it - I'm asking for some encouragement. Who doesn't need that on a regular basis?

Sometimes I just don't know what to say or how to say it.

I don't really have the discipline to be a dedicated writer. I know this but another voice (my muse?) constantly pushes me to keep trying. Each day is a new beginning.

I'm a variety girl - I like to do lots of different things. I get bored easily. I've been this way since I was a kid so when am I going to accept it and just enjoy myself?

My son's brigade is going back to Afghanistan next spring for a year. The typewriter keys in my brain have struck a note inside my forehead so I won't forget. Yeah, right.

I'm nearing sixty and feel this large shift that I can't hold on to, like a movement of tectonic plates under the crust, seismic activity quivering around the margins. Maybe I need to get a tatoo. At least that's something permanent.

I can't write poetry right now. Something inside me refuses to go there, to express myself.

I think I'm traversing the rapids of change. But I don't know where the drop is and the final destination is too far off to see. (Yes, I know, life is a journey - that's how it's supposed to be!)

I just found out that a boss I worked for twice, who I adored and respected, passed on in September of brain cancer. He was only 54. I was blown away. Life is too darn short!

I'm reading Barbara Kingsolver's new book The Lacuna.

Now that IS peachy keen!

Do you remember that 50's-60's phrase - peachy keen?

Well, I know some of you are too young, but humor me!

Going Forward

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams.

Live the life you always imagined.

Henry David Thoreau

Are you on the path to your dreams?

Are you living the life you imagined?

A Piggy Halloween

Mrs. Wannabe Piggy

Piggy Deluxe!

Yes, my favorite toys are pink piggies!

I like piggies but I don't want to be one!