We had an excellent meeting. Two new folks - father and son - new to mood disorders and utterly befuddled about finding good psychiatrists and therapists.
Help is on the way! Les deus, however, were confused as I, the exalted, founder/director, had asked a few of our poets to read their poetry, since April is National Poetry Month.
I know! I know! We met on May First. Linda read Together, the journey of herself and her 88-yo mom - and how their roles have changed - Harriet read The Albatross, based on The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, about the uninvolved father of her daughter - Rem read Stand In about standing up where it counts, and I read Who is George Pell, Anyway.
Okay, good meeting. As oft happens, I fear Father and Son will never return, Turgenov.Accept the inevitable Ruthie.
At meeting's end, where are my keys. A fit of searching ensued. At least half an hour.
Nowhere to be found.
Ada drove me home.
Five minutes later, the phone rings.
My dear friend, NP, says she just found my keys in her pocketbook. I was laffing as I returned her call.
She was probly holding the keys for me after I unlocked the church.
Then I called Ada and Carole Hodges of the Loved Ones Group.
Just went to Scott's who'll be home shortly after 8 am and posted a note on his door,
But in 1517 Luther penned a document attacking the Catholic Church’s corrupt practice of selling “indulgences” to absolve sin. His “95 Theses,” which propounded two central beliefs—that the Bible is the central religious authority and that humans may reach salvation only by their faith and not by their deeds—was to spark the Protestant Reformation. Although these ideas had been advanced before, Martin Luther codified them at a moment in history ripe for religious reformation. The Catholic Church was ever after divided, and the Protestantism that soon emerged was shaped by Luther’s ideas. His writings changed the course of religious and cultural history in the West.
***
Scott's gotta drive me to the church. I have an extra key. This is the day - May 2 - I go to Mom's while Ellen visits NYC.
***
I limped outside to post the note on his door. Bad leg insists I sit for 20 minutes to relax leg.
Am also trying to finish A Handmaid's Tale by Thursday - today is Weds - for our Book Group.
***
WHO IS GEORGE PELL, ANYWAY?
His name is so familiar.
A classical musician, perhaps,
drawing the bow across the
strings in Bach's Unaccompanied
Suite for Cello?
A sedate baseball owner
sitting close to third base
of the Baltimore Ravens
fanning himself with his
straw hat?
Nay to all.
He is Cardinal George Pell
Vatican official, returning
to Australia to face multiple
charges of sexual abuse.
They never plead guilty,
have you noticed? The wife of
sodomizer Jerry Sandusky
heard nothing though her
white-haired loving hubby
took the lads into the basement
and throttled them unmercifully.
Pell has a look of surprise
of skepticism in the photo
as he heads toward the halls
of justice.
"God," he prays over and over.
"Please don't let them find me
guilty."
His face flushes, remembering
those wonderful days. He began
soon after his priestly vows.
"Gee, that was easy," he thought,
thanking the Lord.
He took them on mountaintops,
on altars with Christ looking on,
met young 'uns on the playground,
and during a screening of Close
Encounters of The Third Kind.
His creativity astounds.
His romanticism an inspiration
to those who ride the Staten Island
Ferry on their first date.
In prison, he'll deal with the
underbelly of society and perhaps
get his first tattoo. "He will
rise, he will rise."
***
When I got home from the meeting, I saw a gorgeous moon across the street rising over Charley's house. He been dead, ladies and gentlemen, for years and years. I looked up the moon and wrote this poem, which I put on FB.
TEA FOR THREE
Ed and I step lightly
into her many-fenestrated
home of hardwood floors,
jaunty floor tiles and cool delights
at every turn.
The table is set on the
enclosed back porch with spectacular
views. Birds fluff their feathers
in the bird bath. A waterfall
tumbles over rocks and moss.
She and her best friend,
her husband, transformed
sloping farmland into
paradise here on earth.
She is a soul mother
and Ed and I bask in
her magnetic presence.
Choose your teas! Ed selects
an organic green tea, while
I try licorice tea for the
very first time. Better
than Twizzlers or Blackjack
gum.
Sticking the tea wrapper in
my back pocket, I will celebrate
it on my Tea Wall in my kitchen.
The woman can do anything!
A shiny pastry, a gallette,
is the centerpiece on the
table, red as Dorothy's
ruby slippers.
Such delicate flavor
and such beauty.
Truth is beauty
and beauty truth.
She will enter school
and study literature.
Will she marvel over
F. Scott Fitzgerald,
Gertrude Stein,
Hemingway's Movable Feast
and Raskolnikov's murder,
descent into madness and
later redemption.
Strong hugs goodbye.
This is a face to face
enounter. We feel the
strength of the other,
view their cheeks, their
fingers, their eyes.
See you soon, Marie.
Her spirituality book
is selling well. Mine
is on my bed under
three warm covers.
God is asking me
how to better serve
the "forgotten ones."
***
PS - Am just gonna post my newest poems.
On April 19, 2018, a Southwest Airlines Jet
blew an engine and made an emergency landing
at the Philadelphia Airport.
SUCKED OUT
It happened so fast
like being pushed down
a sliding board like that mean
Erik Turner in kindergarten.
A million thoughts crossed my mind.
Mike, of course, the kids, God please,
don't let me die. What did I do to
displease you so?
Too late. The guy wearing the cowboy hat
and a firefighter tried hard but the
force of a hurricane
had its way with me, little Jennifer
who sped down the street on her
blue bike as if there were no tomorrow.
No tomorrow.
***
WHO GOES THERE?
My car clanked like a knight in armor
as I drove to a family party, with freshly
made food.
Mac and cheese warm from the oven,
fruit salad in a metal pot,
olives preserved from their long journey,
everything protected from the great fear
of spillage.
And then, I saw him!
Suddenly as I rounded the bend
to Mom's house, he trotted boldly
across a neighbor's front lawn,
the green lawn, a canvas
against his auburn body,
tail held high.
Mister Fox! We co-exist
together, unlike refugees
across the sea whose
bodies ache with hunger.
I'll start with the olives
when I get in the house,
as I arrange the fragrant
Japonica I brought from
my garden.
Who's that under the table?
Max, playing with blond-haired
David, whose mom is at
a chess match.
Mister Fox! May your journey
go well and your kits enjoy
every morsel they consume
on their tenure here on
Planet Earth, where
there's food for everyone.
But not safety.
THE LIST GOES ON
The Groping, Exposing and Kiss-Forcing Club
added a new member today. He will
sit at the long teakwood table
where Charlie Rose, Tavis Smiley,
Kevin Spacey, and Bill O'Reilly
view their reflections on the table.
They sip on cold iced water
and keep shaking their heads
"no." How dare they accuse me?
Such stinkers! Liars! Deceivers!
The newcomer stands up. Why,
you'd never guess. It's goood ole
Tom Brokaw, shaking his head
in disbelief.
Who'll be next on the predator's list?
DARK
Dare I?
Dare I walk across my dark room?
I stand ready to march out the
bedroom door, hands out front
like Helen Keller, then pause.
I am a newborn, just released
from the womb.
I am an inmate freed from
the clatter and confinement
of the gaol.
I am the dark planet
revolving silently
somewhere, no where.
WHO IS GEORGE PELL, ANYWAY?
His name is so familiar.
A classical musician, perhaps,
drawing the bow across the
strings in Bach's Unaccompanied
Suite for Cello?
A sedate baseball owner
sitting close to third base
of the Baltimore Ravens
fanning himself with his
straw hat?
Nay to all.
He is Cardinal George Pell
Vatican official, returning
to Australia to face multiple
charges of sexual abuse.
They never plead guilty,
have you noticed? The wife of
sodomizer Jerry Sandusky
heard nothing though her
white-haired loving hubby
took the lads into the basement
and throttled them unmercifully.
Pell has a look of surprise
of skepticism in the photo
as he heads toward the halls
of justice.
"God," he prays over and over.
"Please don't let them find me
guilty."
His face flushes, remembering
those wonderful days. He began
soon after his priestly vows.
"Gee, that was easy," he thought,
thanking the Lord.
He took them on mountaintops,
on altars with Christ looking on,
met young 'uns on the playground,
and during a screening of Close
Encounters of The Third Kind.
His creativity astounds.
His romanticism an inspiration
to those who ride the Staten Island
Ferry on their first date.
In prison, he'll deal with the
underbelly of society and perhaps
get his first tattoo. "He will
rise, he will rise."
Dave Edgerton one of the founders of Burger King recently died at the age of 90, April 2018.
HOME OF THE WHOPPER
Is it the toasted bun
that makes it taste so good?
Or the pickles that delight
our tongue?
Best not to think of the meat
and where it comes from
The coffee, tho, won a prize
Sip slowly, tasting each delicious
fruit of the bean, Arabica -
Vunderbar! Close your eyes
and find yourself in a Parisian cafe
far from the Home of the Whopper.
SAY HELLO TO THE PINK MOON
Thank you, I shall.
Not only that, I will picnic
on the wet grass a little after
midnight, just some popcorn,
thanks, and a glass of red wine.
Pink phlox gives the name
to the pink moon. All of
J J Audubon's birds have
bedded down by now
Except of course for the
hooter - the barnyard owl
in feathers soft -
so innocent looking
As he swivels round, choosing
his prey. Swooop! How delicious
I think I'll have another one
and another.
Field
mice.
TEA FOR THREE
Ed and I step lightly
into her many-fenestrated
home of hardwood floors,
jaunty floor tiles and cool delights
at every turn.
The table is set on the
enclosed back porch with spectacular
views. Birds fluff their feathers
in the bird bath. A waterfall
tumbles over rocks and moss.
She and her best friend,
her husband, transformed
sloping farmland into
paradise here on earth.
She is a soul mother
and Ed and I bask in
her magnetic presence.
Choose your teas! Ed selects
an organic green tea, while
I try licorice tea for the
very first time. Better
than Twizzlers or Blackjack
gum.
Sticking the tea wrapper in
my back pocket, I will celebrate
it on my Tea Wall in my kitchen.
The woman can do anything!
A shiny pastry, a gallette,
is the centerpiece on the
table, red as Dorothy's
ruby slippers.
Such delicate flavor
and such beauty.
Truth is beauty
and beauty truth.
She will enter school
and study literature.
Will she marvel over
F. Scott Fitzgerald,
Gertrude Stein,
Hemingway's Movable Feast
and Raskolnikov's murder,
descent into madness and
later redemption.
Strong hugs goodbye.
This is a face to face
enounter. We feel the
strength of the other,
view their cheeks, their
fingers, their eyes.
See you soon, Marie.
Her spirituality book
is selling well. Mine
is on my bed under
three warm covers.
God is asking me
how to better serve
the "forgotten ones."
***
On April 19, 2018, a Southwest Airlines Jet
blew an engine and made an emergency landing
at the Philadelphia Airport.
SUCKED OUT
It happened so fast
like being pushed down
a sliding board like that mean
Erik Turner in kindergarten.
A million thoughts crossed my mind.
Mike, of course, the kids, God please,
don't let me die. What did I do to
displease you so?
Too late. The guy wearing the cowboy hat
and a firefighter tried hard but the
force of a hurricane
had its way with me, little Jennifer
who sped down the street on her
blue bike as if there were no tomorrow.
No tomorrow.
***
WHO GOES THERE? TRIP TO MOM'S FOR PARTY - Mister Fox
My car clanked like a knight in armor
as I drove to a family party, with freshly
made food.
Mac and cheese warm from the oven,
fruit salad in a metal pot,
olives preserved from their long journey,
everything protected from the great fear
of spillage.
And then, I saw him!
Suddenly as I rounded the bend
to Mom's house, he trotted boldly
across a neighbor's front lawn,
the green lawn, a canvas
against his auburn body,
tail held high.
Mister Fox! We co-exist
together, unlike refugees
across the sea whose
bodies ache with hunger.
I'll start with the olives
when I get in the house,
as I arrange the fragrant
Japonica I brought from
my garden.
Who's that under the table?
Max, playing with blond-haired
David, whose mom is at
a chess match.
Mister Fox! May your journey
go well and your kits enjoy
every morsel they consume
on their tenure here on
Planet Earth, where
there's food for everyone.
But not safety.
THE LIST GOES ON
The Groping, Exposing and Kiss-Forcing Club
added a new member today. He will
sit at the long teakwood table
where Charlie Rose, Tavis Smiley,
Kevin Spacey, and Bill O'Reilly
view their reflections on the table.
They sip on cold iced water
and keep shaking their heads
"no." How dare they accuse me?
Such stinkers! Liars! Deceivers!
The newcomer stands up. Why,
you'd never guess. It's goood ole
Tom Brokaw, shaking his head
in disbelief.
Who'll be next on the predator's list?
DARK
Dare I?
Dare I walk across my dark room?
I stand ready to march out the
bedroom door, hands out front
like Helen Keller, then pause.
I am a newborn, just released
from the womb.
I am an inmate freed from
the clatter and confinement
of the gaol.
I am the dark planet
revolving silently
somewhere, no where.
Dave Edgerton one of the founders of Burger King recently died at the age of 90.
HOME OF THE WHOPPER
Is it the toasted bun
that makes it taste so good?
Or the pickles that delight
our tongue?
Best not to think of the meat
and where it comes from
The coffee, tho, won a prize
Sip slowly, tasting each delicious
fruit of the bean, Arabica -
Vunderbar! Close your eyes
and find yourself in a Parisian cafe
far from the Home of the Whopper.
SAY HELLO TO THE PINK MOON
Thank you, I shall.
Not only that, I will picnic
on the wet grass a little after
midnight, just some popcorn,
thanks, and a glass of red wine.
Pink phlox gives the name
to the pink moon. All of
J J Audubon's birds have
bedded down by now
Except of course for the
hooter - the barnyard owl
in feathers soft -
so innocent looking
As he swivels round, choosing
his prey. Swooop! How delicious
I think I'll have another one
and another.
Field
mice.
C'EST CA, moms and dads!
No comments:
Post a Comment