CLOUD CONSCIOUS

Mom showed us how to see

The beauty and mystery of the clouds

We learned to explore their magical shapes

Which ignited our imaginations

And infused us with infinite fun and adventure

 

She pointed out the marvel

Of the ever-changing sky

Exhibiting its powerful pallet of color

That splashes splendor to the horizons

 

Appreciation ignited her emotions

Spilling over into our consciousness

Forever honing our awareness

To the amazing world around us

 

By teaching us to see the majestic beauty

Barely comprehended and fully digested

Before morphing into another beautiful display

She instilled enduring values deep within our souls

 

Excitement remained firm throughout her life

As she frequently ushered us

To the edge of her driveway

For a clearer view of a cloud or sunset

 

Today mom looks from heaven

Peaking through the clouds

She still guides our eyes

To the exhilarating beauty above

 

When I look up high

I can see her sky blue eyes among the clouds

Enjoying a new perspective of beauty

As she smiles comfort down to me

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

MORNING SALUTATION

The sea gulls soar and squawk loudly in the air

As they dart and dive

Between the coming and going of the ocean waves

 

Fish smells cling to each moisture particle

Hanging heavy in the air

Undeniably branding the sea breeze

 

A distant tugboat hidden deep in the heavy morning mist

Slowly sounds its foghorn

And teams with the splashing surf

To create the unique misty circumstance of the harbor ambiance

 

The wind plays its rhythmic song against the bows of the moored sailboats

Creating a constant clanging as the boats rock in unison

In protest of their captivity by the docks

 

The dark silhouettes of regal ancient buildings

Stand calmly on the harbor edge

Undisturbed by the water, air, sound, and smells

 

The waiting flagpole joins in the clanging song of the sailboats

As the pristine sailors launch their flag slowly in robotic unison

Respectfully hoisting it to the pole’s top

 

An eerie yet peaceful feeling of history and mystery

Fills every space between the fog

And seeps deep into ones very soul

 

It is a beautiful beginning everyday that sets a most appropriate stage

For great world leaders to teach, study, train, and plan

World strategies for freedom and peace

 

A favorite place for both seagulls and I

Forever alive and savored in my memories eye

The routine morning salute and presenting of the United States flag

At Newport Naval Station, Rhode Island

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WHITE FOG

White cold fog swallowed all shapes and colors

Wrapping suffocating arms around images

Rendering them unrecognizable

 

Light magnified the white

Forcing eyelids shut

In a futile effort to squint out the bright sheet

That blanketed all understanding

 

Adrenalin released by fear of injury

Became a constant companion

In the navigating struggle

Of simple daily existence

 

The face that once stared from the mirror

Was now erased along with the large green highway signs

Meant to guide one to a destination

 

Hopelessness was knocking at the door

But I never saw his face

For the surgeon miraculously locked it

Using his quick nimble hands

 

A clear blue sky replaced the fog

While confidence and gratitude nudged away fear

The surgeon’s face became beautifully visible

But two very thoughtful cornea donors

Had faces that only God would see

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

DAWN RIDE IN TEXAS

 The calm early morning breeze

Blew across my face and past my ears

While vigorously I pedaled my bicycle

Down a quiet paved country road in Texas

 

A dove singing a welcoming song

To greet the emerging sun

Was enjoying the prospects of the newly born day

 

Power lines invading the natural terrain

Teamed with the wind

To sing their songs

In harmony with the dove

And the sound of a distant cow

 

The tall grass beside the road rustled

With the scurrying of unseen creatures

Disturbed by the approaching spinning wheels

That announced my invading presence

 

As I struggled up a slight incline

My speed became slower

And my efforts more intense

I was distracted for a moment with the arduous chore

Of conquering the hill

 

Beside the road

Surrounded by the weeds

Stood a misplaced garlic plant

Proudly exhibiting its sphere-shaped blooms

 

The soothing moos of the cows became closer

Each utterance different from the other

Some higher in tone, some lower,

Some shorter in duration, some longer,

Some calmer, and some quite excited

 

Their language had become easy to decipher

One cow had shared the news of my intrusion

The others turned their piercing eyes in unison

To stare with interest and curiosity

 

As I approached a bend in the road,

The trees held hands above my head

And the foliage grew deep on each side

A beautiful creek ran fast over the rocks

Where the cows and creatures

Waited to drink and cool themselves

 

Many times I had traveled this road by automobile

But I never saw or heard these morning treasures

The creek had been a quick glittering flash

All else had simply been unheard,

Unseen, and un-noticed

 

Sadness overcame me as I realized

That many others had also

Zipped by such abundant beauty

Without seeing or hearing it

 

My peaceful journey had awakened my attention

To a refreshing perspective and sense of discovery

I became irrepressibly compelled to share my experience

Of a dawn ride, on a quiet country road, in Texas

 

GINGER

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GingerGinger is 15 years old, missing a few teeth, walks painfully, hearing is gone, hair is thinning, eyes are almost blind, and she sleeps most of the time.  She still eats hardy, tries to play with us, and gives us lots of love.  We recently bought her a playpen to keep her protected from the overly rambunctious puppy that wants to fight her for her chew bone and pull her tail.  We also got Casper (the puppy) a playpen to protect us all.

This photo was posted for those that  asked about Ginger and for those that requested more photographs for the blog.

 

FALL INTROGRESSION

When the wind blows as it is today, it reminds me of a day a few years ago when I stood at the edge of the field watching my miniature horses run with the wind.  It was that shared feeling that inspired the following poem.

The north winds raced across the field picking up speed

Greeting and pushing the trees aside

And swirling around the corners of the house

In a playful arrogant rush

The horses darted in and around the cooling wind

With equal mischief and excitement

Kicking up their heels in the air

In direct rebellion and competition with the changing elements

The whistling interruption of the hyper air

Synchronized to the exuberant beat of the horses hoofs

And joined hands at the opposite horizons

Partnering with the sky’s stampeding gray clouds

It was an aggressive and expected announcement

Of the arrival of an old and dear friend

An Appropriate and suitable escort for

The welcome introgression of the seasonal change

MEET GOVERNOR CASPER

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Carpets are rolled up

Shoes are picked up

Cords are covered up

Anything left is chewed up

 

He climbs like a cat

He smells like a rat

He found my hat

And chewed it while I sat

 

His teeth are like pins

When he bites he grins

He plays and wins

And knows he’s guilty of many sins

 

His energy is abundant

His appetite, rampant

Self-control seems reluctant

His toys are all combatant

 

He was the cutest puppy

Picked ‘cause he was cuddly

Fur so soft and fluffy

Eyes looking at me sweetly

 

Governor Casper is his name

Nothing here will ever be the same

Those sweet eyes became

A wild thing deserving much blame

 

We knew from the start

That very first day

He climbed into our hearts

And with us he will forever stay

 

TOO BUSY

I saw someone today

That I never really knew

She was always there

But hello I never said

 

I was busy with the kids

I was busy preparing meals

I was busy with the house

So hello I never said

 

I saw her again in a day or two

But excuses were more than a few

She was always there

But still hello was never said

 

I stayed busy with the kids

And busy preparing meals

Was busy with the house

No time for hello to be said

 

I did not see her for years

I assumed that she was gone

When I could not find her

Hello could not be said

 

Soon the kids were grown

I was no longer busy preparing meals

I was no longer busy with the house

Only then did I find the time

To  introduce myself to me

 

 

 

 

SUBTLE GRANDEUR

The silver morning sky slowly brightens
As the sun’s rays reach
From behind the horizon
To scout the lingering clouds

The trees stand as motionless statues
Waiting for the winds
To move them
To dance through the day

The air thickened by yesterday’s cool rain
Rises to welcome the warm sun
With a ghostly white presence
That blends with the clouds
To erase the horizon’s divide

The void of color is in
Striking contrast to the previous dawn
Yet its statement is equal to the others

It is magnificent to open ones eyes,
Breathe in a subtle grandeur,
And ponder the wonderment
Of infinite uniqueness

WANT TO BE (3 of 3 Trilogy)

I want to be different
Yet the same
Unusual
But normal
Creative
But not weird

I want to be individual
But not alone
Private
But not reclusive
Intellectual
But not pompous

I want to be pretty
But not flamboyant
Outgoing
But with reserve
Admired
Without jealousy

I want to be charitable
Without disturbing dignity
Compassionate
Without suffocating
Religious
Without imposition

I want to be free
But not without boundaries
Fun
But not wild
Me
But not without you Continue reading

IT”S ME AGAIN (2 of 3 Trilogy)

I am fun
Not so young
But certainly not done

I am shy
Don’t lie
But can be a bit sly

Many a toy
I enjoy
Spoiled I employ

I cook
Look at a book
And then wade a brook

I sew
Love to mow
And plant vegetables in a row

Horses are cherished
Chickens lavished
And that donkey admonished

I anger quick
Forgive not a lick
Grudges held as easily as a stick

ME (1 of 3 Trilogy)

I am sweet
I am neat
And hard to beat

Not speedy
Nor greedy
I know I am needy

Not ugly
Nor bulgy
Just a little pudgy

I am smart
At least part
Just very slow to start

I am complicated
Not premeditated
But completely dedicated

I am lazy
A bit hazy
And a lot crazy

I am tattered
Not at all battered
But a whole lot scattered

I like to be
Under a tree
Just dreaming free

Happy today
I must say
I put all the stresses away

SAME

We are all different, yet the same

We travel together the roads of life

Some turning left, hitting strife

Others turning right, claiming fame

But as we walk our paths

Differences blend to similarity

Simplistic conclusions

To life’s questions

Gain clarity

Different and unique we certainly can claim

Yet we still remain the same

Gayle Blancett

SPRINKLING THE PATIO FLOWERS

Wind lifts a single strand of hair weightlessly
Tickling my nose and teasing my eyes
As I sprinkle water on the patio flowers

The trees bounce and clap their leaves
When a golf cart speeds around the bend
Emitting a sense of urgency
To race the disappearing sun to the next green

Voices carried by the wind
Sift through the privacy hedge
To deliver indirectly to my ears
Distorted unrecognizable mutterings

Serene perfectly manicured green in every direction
Is beautifully accented by meticulously placed plants
And ever changing colors of the vast Texas sky

It is a typical evening in the village
Near the seventeenth green
Where the breeze is always lifting my hair
As I sprinkle water on the patio flowers

THE NEIGHBORHOOD

 

Wind blows a single strand of hair

Weightlessly across my face

Touching my eyes and tickling my nose

Just enough to annoy

 

The trees bounce and clap their leaves

As a golf cart speeds around the bend from sight

Voices carried by wind are delivered to ears unrecognizable

 

A hedge hides the green

From the walls of glass

Where eyes are always watching

And feet are constantly moving

 

Smiles are epidemic,

Fine tuned instruments played well

Where business is shared freely

In the neighborhood by the greens

 

Beautiful cultured nature abounds

Harmonizing with elements uncontrolled

A disparity defined by perspective

At the precise moment of personal interception