Castle

There are days when
I search through my mind,
like searching through
a dusty attic
for old mem'ries.

Thoughts swirl
'round in my head,
as if caught up in
a violent twister.

I question my very
existence and worth
as I wonder what
could have been,
had I not shelved
my words years ago.

Then as fresh mountain air
on the dawn of a new day
it becomes clear to me.

My suppressed gift
for words was looking
up at me through
soft brown eyes...
my daughter!

Her gift for writing,
a blessing from God,
is like sweet
fragrance of lilies
that intensify my world.

In my search through
more old mem'ries,
I backtrack down
a forgotten path.
One of fine milled paper
and soft lead.
And I wonder why
I ever stopped drawing.

Not long after
my first son was born,
it became clear to me
like streak-free glass,
that my artistic talent
paled in comparison
to his.

His talent is like
a rare rose
that thrives on
a branch of thorns,
waiting to show it's
beauty to the world.

Music reigns in me
and has spilled over
into the birth of
my second son.

His musical essence
fills my senses
like the aromatic scent
of hillside flowers.

Sweet sounds from the
recorder.
Soulful power from
the trumpet.
Ebony and ivory
played with grace.
Hard driving
rock...he finger's
my heart with
guitar strings,
in perfect rhythm
with his brother's
drum beats.

I wonder if my children
know how proud
I am of them.
And that I can see
their father's passion for life
through their eyes, and
that we both cherish
them dearly.

I pray that
they don't allow
their gifts to become
old mem'ries
in a dusty attic.

Moment in Time

kissing
you is like a
frozen moment in time
and I swear my heart skips a beat
while the taste buds on my tongue release sighs
and the moment you pull away
I can't wait till next time
our mouths are
kissing

Windy Febuary Night

Cold seeping inward
Unwanted chilled caresses
Gusty night prowler

Febuary Snow

Crispness beneath feet
Visible warm breath vapor
Animals retreat

November; acting like winter

.

dark clouds in blue sky
leaves ride up high on the wind
cold seeps into bones

.

Blue

You can believe all the stories
and all the facts of why the sky
is blue.

But not until one has looked
into your eyes will they ever
know the truth.

When your precious blue eyes
look out into the world
they color the grayest skies....

blue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Christmas Light

If ever I should lose my way
on a snowy covered road.
Never will I tremble in fear,
knowing You carry the load.

When winter's cold seeps into bones,
and flesh calls me to sin--
On bended knee to You I'll pray--
with You I'll always win.

O bright planet, shine down on me
this cold December night.
You're right on time, to show the way,
and chase away my fright.

You look just like a star, one night
that guided years ago.
To promise ever lasting life--
It’s Jesus I love so!

© Vivian, Dec 2008

A November Monday Morning

In the crisp air I step lively to my car,
brushing my hair away from my eye.
I marvel at how Long Island temperatures
can go up and down so drastically in two days.

Surprisingly my muscles aren't screaming at me
after the workout I gave them on Saturday.
According to my son, I was a psycho on Saturday,
raking leaves in the relentless wind and rain.
It was only drizzling and the wind was a help.

I heard you Saturday, despite the wind, flying over head
but could not see you through the thick, heavy rain clouds.
Still, I knew you were up there, creating poetry in the air.
I wanted to join you and I almost did as a gust of wind
shook me from my foot hold on the muddy ground.

I will take you and your poetry with me as I travel to work,
as I breath in the fresh air from the slightly opened car window.
It is a fine day and I have God to thank for that and I have you
to thank, for sharing your good poetry with me....
your poetry with the extra O!

October's Air

September's moon has come and gone
as stars fade in the sky.
But still to you I find I'm drawn
but hide behind this heart so shy.

I sense you in October's air
yet find I'm all alone.
But then the moon will show its' flare
and bring us gladly home.

Evil can cast a mighty sword
and blind one from the truth.
But angels play a louder chord
we heard from in our youth.

October's moon will light the path
and keep us from all harm.
We'll soak our souls in heaven's bath
how easy faith can charm.

© Vivian

To the Simple Pleasures

Transparent ghostly steam
escapes into the chilled air
as I caress your warmth.

Indulging in all that I can
before your heavenly body
becomes cool to the touch,

I cup you in between
my long fingered hands
as you warm me to the bone.

Savoring every drop of you
I drink slowly,
never wanting you to end.

You are my best friend
in the late frosty night
or just before dawn.

I can have you any way
my little heart desires...
black, creamy or sweet.

You are my peaceful moment
in a world gone mad.

You warm my worries away...
Thank you,
my little cup o' Joe!


© Vivian

Burnt Orange Leaves

Burnt orange leaves skip down the street
behind me and I think it's you.
My heart starts to quicken its' beat.
I turn, but you're nowhere in view.

Darling, will you have this dance with me?

"Darling, will you have this dance with me?"
asked the flower of her love.
But her request went un-answered
and her beauty went un-noticed
as her petals began to drop
one by
one.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Kitchen Chair

I sit in silence on a kitchen chair,
end of the day, dinner is over,
dishes are done, room empty.
Leaning on my hand, elbow
on table, I stare off into
a thought...

If I died right now, it wouldn't be so
bad, might even be wonderful.
Wouldn't have to do another
thing, could close my eyes and
never have to open them
again...

I am tired, out of breath...heart pounding
blood through my veins like a run-away
train, straight to the top of my head.

Not that I am suicidal...
just tired, so very
tired...

and if I died right now, no more dishes
to do, no more wash, or shopping
or bills to finagle...

I want to slip into a forever-sleep.

My children grown, need me no more, I have
instilled good virtues within and hope that
my voice, my teachings, will carry on...

my head, my eyes, they hurt and how easily
I become winded from just a flight of stairs.
My sight goes black, for a second or two,
when getting up too quickly...I must sit...

if I died right now, I would not have to pick-up
that paper under my kitchen chair...

my back is out, my teeth don't line up, I am
so fed up and tired of all this tiredness.
I force a trip to the chiropractor...

Epstein-Barr is what he found.

Fourteen years and many, many dishes
and tubs of wash later,
I still recall that thought while
sitting on a kitchen chair
in a tired silence.

© Vivian

Tender are the moments

We tend to take time for granted
dashing here and there
Did I say I love you?
Tender are those moments

We tend to our family each day
in a rush I forgot to say
I love you
Tender are those moments

Tender is the macaroni I cooked
for Bridget, Mike and my darlings
Emily loves butter!
Tender are those moments

We tend to peek at blogs
but leave no replies
Will you take a moment
because, tender is my heart.


© Vivian, Sept. 2008

my music