Miracles and Memories

Tags

memorial day, memories, miracles, observations, writing

As the Memorial Day weekend approaches, many folks’ thoughts wander to family trips to the shore, picnics in the park and chicken barbecues. Television, radio and internet advertisements blast their messages for supreme savings on products ranging from new cars to cushy mattresses to buy-one-get-ones at major department stores.

As we move through our activities this weekend, putting our decorative flags in flower pots on the front porch and preparing for gatherings with family and friends, I make a point to dedicate a time for quiet reflection. To remember and honor those who have made the ultimate sacrifice so I may enjoy the freedom to live in a time of peace, unsettled as it may be in many parts of the world.

My great aunt’s husband served in the great war of his time and participated in one of its bloodiest battles. He was shot in the head and fell with his wounded comrades to lay in the sand on a foreign beach far from home. At the end of the battle, soldiers and medics traversed the field, sifting through the carnage searching for anyone who may still be alive, gathering weapons and identification of those who would be returning home in a body bag rather than on a transport.

One medic stopped to stand less than a foot away from my great uncle’s body. For the first time since arriving on the scene, he took a moment to look across the battlefield, trying to wrap his head around the devastation of human life. He bowed his head in silent prayer, asking his Lord to keep the souls of those who had departed to rest in peace, and to give him the strength and knowledge to help the wounded. As the medic opened his eyes and raised his head, he noticed one of my great uncle’s fingers moving up and down on his right hand. As if my uncle was trying to wave a greeting. The medic checked for a pulse and found my uncle to still be alive.

My great uncle survived his ordeal and lived a long and fruitful life. My great aunt was known to say he was never quite the same as before he left to serve, but then, it was difficult to determine if his change in behavior was due to his head wound or his experiences during the war. Either way, they shared their lives in peace and prosperity, with the understanding if not for the angel of miracles on the battlefield that horrific day, their story would have had a different ending.

My wish for you this Memorial Day is to share moments of joy as you gather with family and friends, or shop ‘til you drop. For it is with this celebration of life and happiness we honor those who have sacrificed their lives and freedoms on our behalf.

Woodland Seasons

Tags

poetry, seasons, woodland, writing

Seasons fade one to another
Marking each passing in woodland time
The chilling winds of a winter’s grasp
Flee for the spring’s freshened breath

Summer breezes arrive as bluebells retire
And the foxglove and bellflower appear
‘Til asters and mums announce the Autumn
The trees glowing in hues of a welcoming fire

Woodland magic embodies each season
One to another waltzing in nature’s tune
Witness the glory as you gaze to the forest
Revealing its enchantment for you

Imagination

Tags

imagination, poetry, writing

Voices of ancients share my tale
For all who come from now ‘til forever
For I am the thread woven into the tapestry
For all who choose their path from the heart

I am the thoughts you harbor at night
I am the image dancing in your eye
I am the puzzles you solve at dawn’s light
I am the touch you dare not deny

For you are the one who continues to seek
I am the instinct forging you wise
For you are the one whose voice will speak
I am but the challenger and you are the prize

The Mustangs

Tags

horses, mustangs, poetry, writing

The earth trembled under the force of their strength
A wisp of their dust cloud arose in the distance
The whisper of their thunder carrying on the wind
Signaled their coming with the scent of a new rain

Bursting over the ridge they soared into view
Dodging through the timberline surefooted and bold
To race with the gods of the four winds and sky
Into the valley of sweetgrass and summer rye

Coats of golden amber painted by the sun god
With ebony manes and tails flashing
Their champion stallion nipping their flanks
Urgency hastening his heavy pursuit

Streaking across the fertile prairie they flew
Towards the mountain pass to safety from the storm
In a blink of a moment they came and were gone
Leaving meadow dust lingering in their wake

Emerging from the spectral cloud of their departure
Their champion returned through the misty haze
Rearing and screaming he voiced his defiance
To the goddess of the storm he claimed his victory

Raindrops and Mirrors

Tags

fictional short stories, writing

FICTIONAL SHORT STORY

Rain fell like a shattered mirror, its shards piercing the ground, reflecting the assault on the shredded remains of Tammy’s heart. Forty-eight hours ago she awoke to sunshine and the sound of morning birdsong. Twenty-four hours later, her perfect world lay in pile of rubble, crushed beyond recognition.

They had come, hats in hand, in full dress uniform to ring her doorbell. They spoke all the proper words of condolences. The letter they carried read as a memorial tribute to her husband’s service to his country. And his ultimate sacrifice.

Tammy knew from her first date with Paul there was always the possibility this day would come. But she fell in love with him anyhow. How could she not? He was a good man, with a good heart and good values. And as handsome as the day is long.

He never lied to her about who he was. He was a military man to the core, and Special Services to boot. For Paul, it was not a matter of choice or duty. Rather a primal need, like eating and sleeping and breathing, to serve his country as his father and his grandfather had before him.

Tammy turned from the kitchen window as the doorbell rang. She stood straight and pushed her shoulders back, steeling her heart to stay strong. She would have her time to grieve. Later and in private. Right now, she had to fulfill her duty as Paul’s wife, answer that door and welcome those who had come to express their sympathy. Not only to honor her husband, but their country and its freedoms he cherished enough to die for.

Checking her face in the mirror above the hall table, the reflection of a woman with shoulder length auburn curls and hazel eyes, red and puffy from tears shed in the silence of the early morning hours, stared back at her. It’ll have to do well enough, she thought.

Tammy opened the door expecting to see one of the military wives or even the chaplain standing on her front porch. Instead, she saw a wounded warrior dressed in clean desert fatigues, his face scratched and bruised, one arm in a sling and the other leaning against a black-handled cherrywood cane.

In that moment she felt her heart stop. She must be hallucinating. Maybe this has all been nothing but a horrible nightmare and any moment she will wake up in her husband’s arms.

“Morning, darlin’. Your turn to make coffee, or is it mine?” Paul asked.

Tammy whispered his name and launched herself at her husband, throwing her arms around his neck and breathing in his scent of soap and shaving creme. She stepped back to look into his face, as he tilted his head towards her and laughed.

“Hold on there, darlin’. Watch the ribs, will ya?” he said.

“Oh Paul. Lordie, is it really you, or am I dreaming?” Tammy asked.

“It’s me, darlin’. I swear,” Paul replied. “I tried to get back to you before they came to see you. To tell you. But they wouldn’t release me from the hospital. And I had to debrief. Wasn’t ‘til I got so agitated with you thinkin’ I was gone, my commander finally took pity on me and shoved me into a transport plane.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” replied Tammy. “Nothing matters now.”

“I know, darlin’. I know.” Paul said. “Now are you gonna get me some coffee and breakfast, or does an old soldier have to get his own around here?”

“Well, you are in luck. I have a fresh pot just brewed. But as for breakfast, it is your turn, buddy and no excuses. I’ll take pancakes and bacon, if you please,” she replied.

He laughed as they walked towards the kitchen. Tammy glanced at the mirror above the hall table as they passed by. The reflection of woman with shoulder length auburn curls and hazel eyes smiled back at her.

In Honor of Mother’s Day

Tags

mother, poetry, writing

A gentle touch
Like a butterfly wing

A tinkling of laughter
Like an angel’s bell

A perfumed scent
Like a magnolia in spring

A honeyed kiss
Like a fairy spell

A shining smile
Like starlight dancing

No other treasure captures the allure
Of a mother’s love precious and pure

Trouble Is Nothing

Tags

poetry, trouble, writing

Trouble is nothing but a seven letter word
With different definitions to different folks
Some will embrace it and relish in the chaos
While others will see it as a slight bump in their road

Happy Birthday, Mom

Tags

mother, poetry, writing

Twinkling candlelight performs a ballet
Atop frosted ice of a favored cake
Close your eyes and make your wish for the day
Savoring the secret request you make

Sparkling ribbons in rainbow colors bold
Fashioning faux blossoms for your delight
Adorn treasures wrapped in paper of gold
Hiding in tissue clouds of pearly white

Precious time with cherished ones held most dear
Or a moment or two of peaceful bliss
Today is your day and we send good cheer
With heartfelt greetings and sealed with a kiss

May your dreams come true in every way
In honor of this truly special day

Rejection

Tags

poetry, rejection, writing

Rejection like a fly on the wall
Desperate for my name to call
Trying once and trying twice
Go ahead and try it thrice

Handy dandy little tool I hide
With handle styled of heartwood carved
A secret weapon at my side
Creation will ne’er be starved

Angered beast hovering at my face
Much too close to personal space
With a single stroke I do vanquish
Thoughts of rejection forever banished

SPLAT…

Language of Problems

Tags

poetry, writing

 

 

What’s your problem
That’s a problem
It’s not my problem
Is there a problem here

 

Say the word problem three times in a succession
Whether done with deliberation or at the speed of light
The sounds emitting through your voice may garner a surprise
And begin to come alive as if by their own choice

Is it a motorcycle trying to start its engine
Or perhaps it’s your neighbor’s crusty garden tractor
Awakening for the first cut of its summer season
Or is it that backyard blackbird annoyed at his mate

Do you hear a bullfrog belching in the night
Or a vintage 33 LP stuck at its conclusion
With the player’s needle grinding out the label
Or do you simply hear the word repeating on itself

Problems will always arise no matter how you try
To keep them far at bay and locked in their box
Take a new look and discover a new light
And find your solution right there in your sight