Happy Anniversary

This is for my husband. We will celebrate forty
years of marriage tomorrow.

Dear Sweet William Happy Anniversary!

I knew I loved you the first time you smiled at me
then ordered a medium root beer at the Sears’
food counter in the Buena Park Mall.

I was seventeen, you eighteen, both of us recent
graduates from high school. You worked in the toy
department, across the aisle, and had to
build up the courage to ask me out.

You were so suave when you said nonchalantly,
“So… where shall we go this Saturday night?”

I replied, “Meet me after work. We will talk then.”

Without a blink I served you the drink and went
on about my business. My heart pounded
in my chest, hardly able to breathe because you would
be my first date. The minutes between then and closing
seem to go on forever. Finally it was time to quit
and we rushed out to the parking lot.

I sat in the black Pontiac, you borrowed from your brother,
and we talked until midnight about everything
from who we were to who we wanted to become.

We set the time and place for when we would get together
of course you had to meet my mother and father
and wrote down directions to my house.
I gave you my phone number and scribbled yours down
on a paper napkin, but we didn’t want to separate
so we continued to reveal our life stories.

We knew it was late when we saw the security guards
come out to their cars. I lied to my parents,
said I went out with the girls. My mother asked me
to call next time I was going to be delayed.
I decided to tell her tomorrow
about our plans for Saturday night.

When you arrived at the door I could see you were nervous,
my stomach churned and we couldn’t wait to get out the door.
The time flew. There was laughter and wonder.
We knew we belonged together.

You held my hand and I leaned over and kissed you.
We have been together ever since.

Today we are both older. Time shows on our faces
but love never faltered from that first time,
many years ago in August,
when we fell in love with each other.

Turning 55

I sat with a woman at my niece's wedding and she told me this story.
It rumbled around in my mind and came out as two poems. The content
is the same, the organization changed.

I turned 55 in Bakersfield.

The locals huddled together
Their heads touched,
Shoulders heaved,

They couldn’t stop their sobbing.
I thought they were crying for me.

Then I heard someone say,
“Buck Owens died today!”

The men in their cowboy hats,
Tassels swinging from their shirts

The ladies in their high-heeled boots
Rhinestones shimmering on their skirts

But there was no celebration
In that one star motel in Bakersfield

The day Buck Owens died
And I turned 55.


Sandy Turned Fifty-five

Sandy stared at her reflection
in the motel room located at the edge Bakersfield,
she wiped her cheeks where the tears had fallen.

Dennis peeked into the room and scowled,
“You can’t turn back the hands of time…
so deal with it… You’re fifty-five.”

She splattered water on her face
put on her green sweater
and walked toward the lobby choking
on the smoke from a smoldering cigarette.

The TV rattled and buzzed with the news.
Men dressed in their cowboy boots,
women in their rhinestone skirts,
stood with their heads and shoulders touching.

Sandy could hear them sobbing.
“Are you crying for me?” she asked.
“Buck Owens died today,” she heard someone say.

“I guess there won’t be a celebration then,”
she sighed, pulled her sweater tighter around
her shoulders, turned and walked out the door

the day Buck Owens died
and she turned fifty-five.

Extreme Make-over

This is an example of a cut-up poem. To create it you have to
cut-out words or phrases from a magazine or newspaper.
Take these words and fill-in the poem with your
own words. The italic words are the cut-up ones.
















I was ambushed,
grabbed, then thrown kicking
and shouting in front
of a three way mirror.

Shocked – I was a wreck of course
the hardest part,
I was wearing flowers on my
blouse, skirt and hair.

I giggled and then cried,
“I need the blossoms to counteract
the winter in my mind,” I sighed.

The make-over artist
gave me a mischievous grin
then led me to the racks

of tamer classics allowing
me to add a splash of lilac and rose
for quirky self expression.

With this transformation
I’ve blossomed with confidence

making a healthier
fashion statement.

Still Life

This is my first still life. I took the picture out in
the backyard and the sunlight distorted some of the color
but I think you have a good sense of the picture itself.
Hopefully my drawing class will improve perspective and
shape in my paintings.

















Here is the same still life using MS paint.

Alone With The Baby

All the guests are gone
Mama and daddy the last to leave
food served and eaten

gifts opened, packages
and wrapping in the trash
the clean-up is now complete

Hubby upstairs after opening
the envelopes and counting cash

A silence falls over the room
Mia and her baby are all alone
He smells of baby powder

She holds him to her breast
and feels the steady tug
but without warning …

he starts to fuss
cat like grunts, a wrinkled nose,
then balled up fists
and the steady kick, kick, kick

a whimper than a howl
does anyone know,
what's the matter with her son?

Mia starts to cry
she doesn’t want to be
all alone with her new baby.

My Prince Will Come

I found a castle looming on the edge of a cliff
gray walls with roughly hewn doors
bolted shut. No one answered when I knocked

so I lingered in the tall trees
watched the birds flit through the grass

listened to their chatter while I sat
outside waiting for what?
I hummed a childish tune
gazed at water splashing off the rocks,

an easterly breeze caressed my face,
a sparkling stream soothed my feet
the gentle ripple helped pass the time
outside the palace barricade.

I noticed a long narrow slit
at the highest point of the smallest tower
with a rope of yellow hair
tumbling from the window in that turret.

A young handsome man
caught the interwoven tresses
then proceeded to climb hand over hand
up the edifice, to the opening near the top.

He entered the casement and was gone.

I heard music playing from within
a hearty laugh, a squeal, a scream
the blur of color as they chased each other
their laughter rippled through the air
then quiet, for the longest time.

The cord from the window now held two
who climbed out that isolated parapet.
The man I recognize from before
the second one, a woman, with short cropped hair
touched the ground then disappeared into the forest.

I walked to the space where the limp braid
hung, then pulled myself up

to the window high above and stepped in
to a charming room perfect for a princess.
I decided to stay awhile and wait

for my prince to come.

Faces

These are my first independent efforts for drawing a face using the techniques from my class, Drawing Using the Right Side of the Brain. Obviously I still need practice but these pictures are better than anything I've done before.






















This was a close-up of a teenage girl. One eye is darker, the teacher demonstrated how dark shading could get if we tried.























This picture is of a indigenous woman in full regalia. I liked all the shapes and textures that went along with the face. Still need to work on shading and blending.