- July 24
- I came originally to follow a friend's blog and stayed because the writing is so varied and so good!
MY RECENT POSTS
- Boston Marathon Bomber Boy
April 19, 2013 11:24PM
- Good News and a Gift
May 06, 2012 05:03PM
- A Short Walk on the Dark Side
April 04, 2012 04:58PM
- Landing On the Way to Sheol
March 23, 2012 02:42PM
- A Bubble
March 16, 2012 11:59AM
MY RECENT COMMENTS
- “I'm so sorry for what
you and your wife are going
You being at her
April 22, 2013 02:13PM
- “PS. "A voice was heard
in Ramah, wailing and
April 20, 2013 01:06AM
- “Hey Roger Dodger...I
lied...I haven't made it to
April 20, 2013 01:02AM
- “AWESOME! I do so love
how you inhabit your
characters! I saw
October 06, 2012 12:58PM
- “Bravo!!! "Who's He,"
indeed!!! I knew you would
September 14, 2012 09:49PM
Jersey Girl at Heart's Links
They've captured the second Boston Marathon bomber...
so we can all breathe a sigh of release….
I'm not sure there's relief yet.
I'm watching bystanders cheering and clapping as the police take the perpetrator away. Or maybe he's already gone…the next ch/… Read full post »
I want to share some good news with all of you. After 4 years of seminary and several months of searching, I have been called to be sole Pastor of a small neighborhood church. It has about 100 members which means I will soon know everyone and their families by name! … Read full post »
I feel evil lurking
I warn those close to me
They seem to frown, just slightly
And ask what's wrong with me.
I feel evil smirking
it's whispering in my ears
The world looks so normal
But it's not as it appears.
I feel evil moving… Read full post »
When Dad moved into the finished basement of our split-level Cape, the stairs leading down to his room became my daily descent into Sheol, the land of wraiths and twilight.
Unlike Odysseus' descent into Hades, there was no bargain to be made to free my Dad from his… Read full post »
A bubble blew by me today.
Floating across the roadway.
Why did that bubble cross the road? I wondered.
To get to the other side, I guessed.
There was no child in sight,
wand in hand,
frantically… Read full post »
She lays curled in her father's cupped hands.
Mother's hands folded around his.
Her tiny hands together in seeming prayer,
pillowed under her porcelain cheek.
Breath-taking, breathless, beauty.
never to see sun, sky, moon.
She is so perfe… Read full post »
I was awakened by pounding on the front door.
I ran downstairs, my heart bursting from my chest. Either I wasn't fast enough or they just wanted the fun of smashing the door to smithereens. They were already pouring up the stairs before I could reach the first… Read full post »
The nurse didn't have to tell me my Dad was dying.
When I came in that day, he was lying immobile in one of the recliners, piled high with crisp white sheets, eyes closed.
It was my turn to be the loved one sitting with… Read full post »
Will we know when the last snow falls?
Will we know when the last songbird sings? When the last squirrel discovers the last acorn? When the last bullfrog belches its final love song to a dark reflection of itself in a polluted puddle? When neither the chicken nor the egg… Read full post »
There was one bright light on the floor of the dementia unit where my Dad finished out his days. Her name was Bridget. She was a lively German lady who took a shine to me.
I think it was because I took a shine to her.
She was… Read full post »
This is a response to Patrick Frank's open call.
A fun poetry challenge!
Check his out, he did a much better job than I did!!http://open.salon.com/blog/patrickgfrank/2012/01/19/making_new_music
some people rant a… Read full post »
My Mom was crying. I'll never forget it. I'd only ever seen my Mom cry once before. That time long ago, she was sitting with the neighborhood Moms watching TV, and they were crying too. I was shocked at the sight of adults crying.
I remember sitting on the… Read full post »
When we learned that I was miraculously pregnant for the second time, we wondered how to begin broaching the subject with my daughter who was 3 1/2. She ruled the household with an iron fist in a petite, velvet glove and I worried how she might view this invasion of her… Read full post »
I'm living in the embrace of Night
to see what miracles come to light.
When the horn sounds
and the walls come tumbling down and the barriers fall
and the curtain in the Temple is torn from top to bottom
allowing God to escape from the fisted heart
which opens and… Read full post »
The hardest time in my life was when my Dad came to live with me after a three week hospital stay where he almost died several times. He had dementia and was in a wheelchair. My son was three and my daughter was seven. I think I am known as part… Read full post »
I didn't know the last time I talked to my Mom that it would be the last time. I can remember everything we talked about because after she died I found a note tucked in her calendar - her "brain" she used to call it - that had a list of… Read full post »
I love making homemade bread. I love mixing the ingredients together and then dumping the sticky mass of dough onto my floured counter. I love taking that clump of improbable matter into my hands and kneading and kneading the dough until it becomes smooth, cohesive, and elastic. I l… Read full post »
Some of my earliest memories involve the annual Church Bazaar. While my parents would be hard at work, I would be playing hide and seek with my younger brother in the darkened Sanctuary.
When we tired of hide and seek, our favor… Read full post »
The first black man in my oh so white town stood on the street corner in front of the bank. His body was clenched fist hard against the bone bitter November wind and the icy stares from those snow white faces driving by.
One hand was shoved deep… Read full post »
As I waded waist deep into the cooling waters of Naragansett Bay, I glanced back toward shore...
... and caught a glimpse of myself at 13.
There I was...hair streaming behind me in the endless breeze, laughing at the waves gently pushing me to and fro.
"I had to sell my trumpet to get this," he said as he thrust his half of the abortion fee at me. He kept waving the money around making me grab at it like it was a golden ring to be snatched from the back of a merry-go-round pony...like it was… Read full post »
He's heading to the back room where he buys and sells freedom.
They don't wear the ghostly white robes and hoods, those back room boys, that's too obvious. That's just for show. Something to distract "we the people" with fear and anger.
&nb… Read full post »
My son is the one on the Flag Football field staring into the night sky looking for stars.
He's the one listening so intently to the cicada's siren song that he doesn't always hear the shrill trilling of the referee's whistle the first time...
...or the second.
He's the… Read full post »
A disgruntled radio announcer said that the Red Sox had struck out, that they had come to the end of the line, that THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT IS COMING TO AN END!!!
I think striking out is when you receive four rejection notices for your book... … Read full post »
They woke him at dawn to cold grey steel.
It's not like it was Christmas morning and waking in the dark meant running into a living room wonderland of twinkling colored lights, glittering ornaments, and the stunning sight of bright and colorfully wrapped boxes of love cascading out f… Read full post »
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