Monday, June 27, 2016

Car don't work - neither do my kitchen - Poems: Walk around the Block - Drinking Coffee While Listening to the Rain - Relaxing about Steve Hamilton Book

Hello Daylillies!

 Went to my son's thother night. Put Grace Catherine to bed, had a couple sips of a fabulous Mojito Dan made, and when I left, a neighbor across the street had bashed my car with his pickup truck.

Scott and I walked at Pennypack Trust. I picked this flower which Beatriz identified as Bee Balm. It is a native flower.

I finally emailed in my Guest Column to the Intell. My last column was rejected by the editor. So am anxiously awaiting his decision.


We have a major problem in the kitchen. Water damage. Bob Walmsey came home from a cruise in Bermuda, knowing he would arrive here today to diagnose the problem.

He did. Water comes in from the window and has ruined the wooden underpinning of my kitchen floor.

But, as my friend Freda says, This too shall pass.

  Here's my darling Freda Rose Samuels!

For a snack I had a fruit and cheese platter. As a person with diabetes, I had to make sure I had enuf protein with the meal - I finished off a jar of Vita Creamed herring - and injected.

For dinner I made scallops for me and Scott. Went over his house to eat em with brown rice as there's no where to sit at my house.

The house is in disarray until Bob and Steve fix my kitchen.

Hey, can you think of any songs with 'kitchen' in them?

Robert Johnson sings Come on in my Kitchen.

He was so shy, that when they came to record him, he sang with his back turned.

 I really had a hankering for coffee.  Finished off this great coffee that my Goddard friend Iris and husband Art brought me when they visited.

The Michael Moore film - Where to Invade Next - was excellent!

Am watching Gueros right now as a tribute to the Roger Ebert review.

The Supreme Court struck down a Texas law about abortion clinics.

Thother night there was a PBS show about this very topic. Then-Governor Rick Perry was saying how terrible abortion is. That the population will INCREASE if abortion is legalized. The guy has the brain of a  pea. A major idiot who won't listen to reason.

I stood on the front porch listening to the rain.


The coffee must be hot
and so it is
I stand at the door and
listen to that unmistakable

Pla pla pla pla
pla pla pla pla
pla pla pal pla pla!

At last the yard gets
a good soaking, the tomatoes
will grow taller as will the
peppers, cukes and chives

Grow peaches grow, I beseech
taking another sip of coffee
The squirrels are confused since
Scott blocked them out with

They stand atop the chicken wire
gazing at the growing peaches
can you hear them complain?
Chee chee chee chee

We all have voices!
We all communicate!
We all have things we
love and can't give up

What are yours?


Am still watching Gueros.


Before I had a chance to stop
myself, I walked around the
block this morning to get my bad leg
working again

Oh, Gepetto, please
make my wooden Pinocchio
leg a real one again

Slowing on the Greyhorse Hill
I crossed the street
as a green moving truck
with those huge storage
containers backed into
a slot, I thought,
There's a camel on wheels.

Some neighbors appeared and
I said, Their eyes are always
downcast, they never say hello.

At the summit of the hill
it could be where Jesus gave
his Sermon on the Mount
I headed on home, then
grabbed the hose and
began to water the
garden, the one pepper
blushing red

When I looked up, and I
swear this is true, the
couple who never look
up as they walk their
German shepherd passed
in front of my house.

Hello! I shouted.
The man and the shepherd
looked up.
Fine, he said. And you?

Great! said I, thankful
for a second chance. For
sometimes I am the
Prodigal Son.



I bounced onto my downstairs bed
where cool breezes flowed in
from the back porch, the exhausted
firelies, lying in wait for
tonight's midnight forays

Spread, like a wedding feast, on the lavender
bed spread, were all my library books
clamoring to be read

It's your turn, Nick Mason, I thought
and picked up this book about "dirty
cops" and betrayal and Glocks and
sawed off shotguns
the blood staining my
fluffy pillows bright red.

Oh, it's a dreadful book. Its
author - Steve Hamilton - looks
from the book jacket like a newly
minted Bible preacher.

He's garnered every crime fiction
award there is and Stephen King
blurbs: Read Him!

Agog to know how the book ends,
I mop my hot brow and, like a
swimmer on the Delaware stroking
toward shore, pump and kick and
gulp and spit as I finally
touch home.



  1. Oh my, I see why it was a bad week. I am so certainly has poured into your life all at once. Yet you keep coming up with wonderful poems. I cringe to think of what the water damage will cost. I hope it all turns out ok for you.

    1. Thanks so much for checking in, Iris! Seems like old times. The saving grace is that Bob, my fixer - remember the book by Malamud - is an honest guy who won't charge me an arm and a leg. Well, maybe my upper arm, at that!