Friday, May 4, 2018

One Word Poems






Simple Pleasures

Discoveries like your hands and feet, kept you fascinated for hours.

Death Sentence
Death is the period after a life sentence.

Photo Album
Click, click, click of the camera; perfect smile, perfect face, perfect place

Progress 
Once plastics did not exist and now they last forever

Privacy
In a crowded house there is only one room with a lock

Argument
Words explode in anger, rapid like machine gun fire.

Saturday, November 18, 2017

Memories of Grandpa' s House

Dear Maria,

You asked for a memory of your Dad, but he was only a sound in the background because the cousins are what I remember. Margie stayed with the young aunts, Nora, Vangie and Theresa. I hung out with the boys, with Stevie as our leader.

I remember Sunday mornings driving down a dirt road to the white washed adobe house, dust clouds and cars converging under the cottonwood.

The women, Ninfa, Sally, Theresa, and Rachel, maybe Emily and Soila, prepared the meal. While the men, Ben, Jesus, Tony and Prospero, Solomon and Joe gathered on chairs in the front yard with Grandpa. The kids assembled in groups according to age and interests then disappeared from the adults leaving them to talk in Spanish, laughing and teasing each other.

The younger ones stayed with the teenage aunts
some, mostly girls, gathered inside to play dolls
and the rest ran off into the hills to play in the junkyard.

We discovered refrigerators
with the doors torn off, an old stove,
pots and pans and cooking utensils,
an ancient tractor with a metal seat
and a large cold steering wheel.

A favorite item was the Model T
with rusty springs under the front seat
that squeaked and squeaked when
we bounced on them

Wooden crates arranged in the back
helped us climb through the windows
like garden snakes slipping in and out
and onto the roof.

We played with the discarded treasures
pretending we were grown-ups
but when dinner was ready it was time to return.

There was lots of laughter, and plenty of food

always a cousin to play with and something to do.  
Dear Maria,

You asked for a memory of your Dad, but he was only a sound in the background because the cousins are what I remember. Margie stayed with the young aunts, Nora, Vangie and Theresa. I hung out with the boys, with Stevie as our leader.

I remember Sunday mornings driving down a dirt road to the white washed adobe house, dust clouds and cars converging under the cottonwood.

The women, Ninfa, Sally, Theresa, and Rachel, maybe Emily and Soila, prepared the meal. While the men, Ben, Jesus, Tony and Prospero, Solomon and Joe gathered on chairs in the front yard with Grandpa. The kids assembled in groups according to age and interests then disappeared from the adults leaving them to talk in Spanish, laughing and teasing each other.

The younger ones stayed with the teenage aunts
some, mostly girls, gathered inside to play dolls
and the rest ran off into the hills to play in the junkyard.

We discovered refrigerators
with the doors torn off, an old stove,
pots and pans and cooking utensils,
an ancient tractor with a metal seat
and a large cold steering wheel.

A favorite item was the Model T
with rusty springs under the front seat
that squeaked and squeaked when
we bounced on them

Wooden crates arranged in the back
helped us climb through the windows
like garden snakes slipping in and out
and onto the roof.

We played with the discarded treasures
pretending we were grown-ups
but when dinner was ready it was time to return.

There was lots of laughter, and plenty of food

always a cousin to play with and something to do.  

Tuesday, November 15, 2016

Rosary Devotion

Started praying the rosary again before the Presidential election. Prayed it for several weeks. Stopped praying when Trump won the election. May be time to start again.