Spirit Cat Protector

The Spirit Cat Protector

The residents 

escaped the house

but the cats

were still inside

hidden from 

the flames. 

Can you 

see the spirit

cat protector

in the smoke ?

She remained 

until the fireman came

to rescue each cat 

from its hiding

place.

Pick Me First

There I was in the back of the classroom
waving my hand up in the air shouting,

“Pick me first!” and when she did
my mind went blank uttering not a word,
turning a bright red, wishing she ignored
me like she had a hundred times before.

Then there was the time my ticket was placed
in a big wire drum, turning round and round
the young woman, who had the keys
to the city, reached in to draw out
the winner, I closed my eyes and prayed,

“Pick me first!” and when she called out
the winning number they all matched mine
I cheered and ran up to claim the prize
but I had four not all five so didn’t win after all.

More recently I attended the Price is Right
with a friend. We waited until the game began

My name was the first one called out

my friend whooped and shouted out loud
I stood in front with all the cameras

guessing price after price, always wrong.

Getting picked first doesn't 
mean anything after all.

Life Changes

At some point he wanted a tattoo
when is unclear but once he knew

what he wanted
it was inevitable.

I thought he would back out
but he made an appointment

and now I watch as his personality
changes as he becomes someone 

who sports a bright bold tattoo.
I knew he would like it 

and now he wants to work out
so his muscles support the art work

he wants to be a strong man 
with a fantastic tattoo. 

Journal

Blank pages waiting for my ink
to record my doings, 
or inscribe my thoughts
draw a picture or two to express my moods;

a mulching ground for later stories
or country western songs,
a breeding place for new ideas
where plans are made but not forgotten.

I leave scraps of poems and perfect phrases
scattered through the pages
filed away to be found years later
at an estate sale,

purchased by a total stranger
who takes my words to heart
and makes a life I couldn’t start

inspired by dreams I didn’t fulfill
because I was too afraid to take the leap
she took flight from my journal.

A Day At The Farm

Centennial Farm, Costa Mesa, CA

Lama mama

A half ton of bull

Just kidding around

Hay for babies and ewe

Lots of bacon

Busy as a bee

Honk, Honk Honk

     

A good day at the farm

            Pictures by Bill

Musician in New Orleans

To say you’re a musician in New Orleans
is like saying you’re an actor in Hollywood
one of a million in a sea of unknowns.

Talent gets forgotten along with the wannabes
tossed in a heap of anonymity
but the longing in your heart
keeps you trying to get the part

honing your skills, playing
to empty rooms and distracted crowds,
letting the music seep deeper into your bones
calluses on your fingertips

worn off and formed again
looked for a bus out of town

found a train but leads to nowhere,
the music won’t let you go

so you stay another day
write a song for others to play
your words get swept away
leaving your music floating in the air. 

Tortillas Are Home

Her arms are strong from years 
of kneading flour, salt, lard and water

mixed in a large ceramic bowl
belonging to her grandmother
the recipe remembered 

in her finger tips
a ritual before every meal
rolled out in perfect circles
the right size for individual
servings, ready to be eaten
with every meal.

Her favorite is with chili and beans
torn apart to make little scoops
a quick and easy snack
rolled and eaten with melted 
butter or, on a special occasion, 

sliced up and fried
to make sopaipillas
sprinkled with powdered sugar 
and filled with honey. 

When I fix them at home it is a big deal
I’m awkward, flour is everywhere
the tortillas are sometimes rolled
too thick and don’t taste right
but when she is in the kitchen
they are perfect every time.

She does it automatically
can stay involved in the conversation

changing from English and Spanish
while she stirs the food cooking
on the stove, slices meat in small pieces
for the chili simmering in a pan.

She has a steady rhythm with the rolling pin
flipping tortillas on a cast iron grill
laughter and love fill the room
everything about the moment
is the aroma of home.

A Loose Thread on His Sweater

The thread on his sweater
unraveled at the center of his chest

it was a simple move on my part
I reached for it, and pulled slightly.
I thought I could tie it safely in a knot
and keep it from separating further
but with every little tug it untangled, 
and the thread grew longer while 
the hole in the sweater grew larger.

I should have stopped
but I couldn’t help myself
the hours of work that went into
this garment I quickly
unraveled in seconds.

I heard a noise deep in his throat

like a whimpering gasp.
“The sweater,” he said, 
“was a gift from my mother.”

She sent it for his birthday
before she took her last breath
and it was his favorite 
he wore it when he was
sad, or when the seasons
changed, or her birthday passed.

Now here I was destroying
what he valued most
wrecking it with every pull.

I should have stopped
taken it to an experienced knitter
have it fixed, but like a kitten with a piece of yarn
I used both hands to find the end of that strand,
now a pile of royal blue fiber on the sidewalk.

Maybe at another time
our eyes will meet
and we will laugh about today

but how can he feel affection

for a stranger who destroyed his sweater
on a public street while waiting for a bus
early in September?

Speechless Model

She sat upon the cloth covered stool
with bright lights arranged to capture her features;
curve of her cheek, the line of her jaw
and glint in her eyes. She stared straight
ahead motionless and silent for twenty minutes. 

She took a break then assumed her position
never speaking a word. She wore a smooth black dress,

a single row of pearls, and a red rose 
tucked behind her ear. 

Each artist concentrated on the portrait from
the top of her head to her waist. Her shoulders
were a three quarters turn and her hands
folded upon her lap. Her Spanish ancestry
could be seen in her olive skin and brooding eyes,
her lipstick was the same color as the red rose 
that adorned her hair.

Tortillas and Other Flatbreads

Mothers around the globe
make tortillas for their families
some use wheat, others corn
but the process is basically the same

grind the grain to a fine powder
add some type of fat, salt and water
mix it together to get the right consistency
roll it out on a flat surface and cook it on a hot grill.

There is the arepa from Venezuela

bobboli for pizza in America

the bammy is a specialty of Jamaica

and barbari bread the taste of Iran.

Some are called cracker breads

and are cooked a little crisp

others are filled with spices

to add flavor to the basic dish

bolo de milho from  Brazil

chapatti hail from India

paraki is an Armenian favorite

focaccia is well known from Italy
and the lapyoshka all the way from Russia.

The gordita  matches its Spanish name,

the honokakor comes from Sweden,

injera is an Ethiopian essential,

and lefse a Norwegian staple,

mu shu shells a Peking delight.

Pita bread is so common in America

many forget in comes from our mid eastern

immigrants, the pupusa is from El Salvador

all these different breads taste like home

for different people around the world. 

Merry Christmas

Trees Before Snowfall

After the bloom of spring
and the languishing days of summer

trees change their wardrobe
one more time.

They let each leaf fall
like a stripper on a burlesque
stage until they stand
completely vulnerable
in the winter sun.

They shiver
as the temperatures plunge

but by morning
mother nature drapes them
in an elegant gown
of snowflakes and ice

totally transformed
from the night before.





















Pictures by b & drice

All That Glitters

My grandpa taught me
to watch where I was going
but keep an eye on the ground
watch for the glitter
in may be broken glass
from bottles of beer or wine
or maybe a dime or quarter
dropped from the pocket
of a nine year old
a piece of jewelry
washed through the sewer
with the last hard rain
fool’s gold or 14 caret
it all glitters just the same

but if I’m not watching
I’ll pass it by
leaving it behind for someone
else to find
So my eyes are always wide open
scanning the places I walk
collecting pieces of this and that
for a collage I’m planning to construct
different colored glass for a mosaic
depicting this cityscape
gathering glass along the beach
for a scene from the sea
aluminum and other metal scrapes
melted to make an alloy
for a unique piece of jewelry

My grandpa was a collector
for the hundred years he lived
little rusted coffee cans
filled with colors of amber, blue, and red
the only thing he left
I wanted just for me
transforming those throwaways
into pieces of art
shown at local art shows
and in galleries

returning to the world
new artifacts,
remnants
and debris
written up in magazines
photographed and displayed
little bits
gathered up from city streets
redefined and restructured
from discards to art.

Shadow Play

See the cutout puppets
highlighted with bright light
their shadows cast upon a screen
stiff movements jerking up and down
and artificially acted voices,
but in the shadow land, appropriate.

These creatures without distinct faces
only silhouettes from make-believe.
A princess and her castle,
a brave knight fighting a dragon
can hold life in abeyance
for thirty minutes or more.

Love, humor, and high drama
all played out on the stage
while behind the scenes
puppeteers sweat and scramble
to maintain this fantasy world.

My New Tattoo

Here is the original bracelet I wore as a child.















Now an overview of the tattoo bracelet created by Jen Schichi/ sacred
tattooing, artist, The Mermaid's Tale Tattoo/ http://mermaidtale.net/














Finally a profile view.

There are ten crossed arrows that represent my siblings.
The silver bands on either side are my sons and their wives.
The turquoise, each of my grandchildren.
The other two circles are Crystal and Lisa, adopted into the family.
The solder at both points, my husband and me, holding family together.

Tattoo

The conference was one-on-one
to create a vision -
measurements were taken
then a date set to complete
the drawing and provide a ritual
so the infusion of ink into my skin

created a memory larger than the pain
with symbolism in every line
part of a prayer
each time I look at my arm

I will see the silver trail of my ancestors
a bracelet tattooed on my wrist
turquoise and a broken arrow

to remember when they walked the earth
in harmony with the Great Spirit
preparing the path for me to follow.

I met with Jennifer from Mermaid's Tale
to set up for my tattoo 11/11/11.

Hunter

watercolor by drice

He gets up early
sits in a blind
waits, watches,
rifle ready

hears the flutter.
takes aim and shoots.
If he is lucky gets one
but if the bird is blessed
she gets away.

This relationship of hunter
and hunted plays out in waterways
around the world
for some it provides food
for others sport

but for the prey
it is a matter of life and death,
no romance, bravado or myth
a real bullet tears into her flesh

enters her heart
leaves her bleeding
easy for the dog to locate
and carry to his master

who will then gut and de-feather her
for his family to enjoy
she'll be roasted and garnished
with an orange glazed sauce.

Flamenco

Clapping hands, stomping feet,
castanets and a voice, accompanied
by an acoustical guitar recall gypsies,
Arabs, Jews and indigenous Andalusian,
a people, who were all but forgotten.

The music of the poor and oppressed,
cante, palmas, toque, zapateado, baile
keep this dance for the people
take it to the stage, make it famous.

Evolution of rhythms, stanzas and ambiance
becomes the opera for the Spanish
can be found in the homes, on the streets,
in cafes and theaters across the land.

Gypsies, Arabs, Jews and indigenous
Andalusian, a music for the people
can’t be danced upon the sand, hear the sound,
feel the beat, express it with your feet.

Keep this dance for the people
take it to the street, let it
awaken forgotten memories.

A lone dancer and drummer
still attract a crowd
listen to the beat, hear the drum
keeping time with the pounding feet
pad da dap, dap, pad da dap, dap.

Classical and traditional
an attitude from the people
who know it in their bones
a passion, generations old
pad da dap, dap, pad da dap, dap.

A single guitar and singer
capture flamenco
in a stream of musical notes
in the shadows of a late afternoon
Ay ye yi ye ye, Ay ye yi ye ye.

The song, reminiscent of a call from Mecca
heard across desert sands
echoes in the land of Israel
music from the gypsy camps
and the indigenous Andalusian.

Many years of sorrow
passion still simmers in the embers
a call to battle for what matters
it’s all in the dance mi’jito
learn the steps mi’jita,
it’s all in the dance.

watercolor painting by drice

Dye It

Alizarin red for her lips
an ultramarine for her eyes
oils preferred over acrylics

when working on canvas
but when an artist is making a dress
the easiest way to color it is to dye it.

Boil the water then
add turmeric for a yellow
onion skins for a beige

or red cabbage for a soft lavender.
Seep the cloth in this mixture
let it dry then it is ready to cut.

Select silks, cotton or muslin
for a daytime summer outfit
or a evening party dress.

The range of colors can vary
by selecting flowers in every hue.
Wear rubber gloves

to keep from staining your hands,
stay away from synthetic materials,
wools are wonderful but be careful

not to shrink them.
Berries or blossoms should be chopped
then boiled and strained.

Let the cloth soak overnight
wash separately after dying.
Vintage clothes can use a quick facelift

by mixing a new color
to surprise your friends
by transforming dowdy to darling.

Health experts give lots of advice
to keep us from dying
but when it come to fashion

go with your artistic instincts
select nature's colors
then just dye it.

The Untamed Flute

Your flute; a hollowed rod
with a series of holes
allowing the flow of breath

desire alone cannot make
music nor can instruction
from an experienced teacher

in order to tame the flute
there has to be a blend
of your spirit; the musician,

with the heart of the listener
and somewhere the fluttering
of a bird's wings allowing

you to catch the breath of wind
capture the song of water
releasing ecstasy and passion

discovering joy and sorrow
and expressing it through
your instrument

permitting your soul to touch
heaven for a little while
peace with the universe

sunlight dancing with the sky,
moonlight laughing with the stars,
lovers' hearts beating as one.