Rocking – Fifty for You!

My dear friend Rocky Barbanica is turning 50 this week. If you know him, you know a great compassionate friend; he’s always there as a shoulder to lean on. The friend you wouldn’t want to do this life without. Cheers and thanks Roc. Your friends and family love you!!!!

Fifty – a milestone

higher than the sky


So many things achieved

some things


flew right by


All and all

you have had



Great things

at each turn


What is left

after 50?

memories – to burn


Look back



so much

you have done!


There’s music



those girls



What Fun!


Rumbling sounds

seem so clear


The family

you’ve held

are so dear


Highs and lows

in the air

and some on

the ground


Many lessons

you have learned

Some are quite



Best part of

this fiftieth year?


I’ll tell you


my friend


keep living

keep pouring

it does not

have to end


More gray


age signs

this is true


but I promise

you are always




You’ve done

so much


Made a


it is true


Stood strong

in good times

cried with us




we all love

the  stalwart




that is



Thanks for the Harley Risastla


and the round of beer


Mixture of All Things

You whirl and mix the elements

sometimes silent other times you howl

I am always amazed at your strength

I can stand in the middle of you

you hold me up grab me

swirl me around

I feel displaced in your presence

you pull at the very essence of me

when you are gone I am cleansed

for some you are feared

others to be avoided

for me you are a friend

thanks for the windy photo AlicePopKorn


Moon Smile ( a poem by my friend Shaun)

Ache in the walking legs

Long day coming to a conclusion

Night claws you into darkness

Moon is your best friend

It smiles upon your journey

Thrilled to guide you home

Cheeky grin upon the face

You made the moon laugh

Moon shifts its location

Just trying to get comfortable

Home is on the radar

Met with a moon smile

The moon enjoyed your journey

Now time to say goodnight

this beautiful poem is crafted by Shaun Masterton

Thanks to Voobie for the Photo

Tomorrow would be his day

Tomorrow would be his day

a big day

number Two

Birthday Hooray


running, talking

fumbling too

over big feet

tying his shoe


We remember

for our friend

this day of days

where we send


Our love our support

a hug or two

this dear little boy

an angel who flew

Photo courtesy of:

Fragments (by guest poet D. Holloway)

Just fragments
and meaningless images
line my mind today,
yet from somewhere
an awesome display


of endless plains
meeting the sea
and thunderous waves
shouting at me


and power rushing
as if to meet
it’s friend the end
lapping at my feet


receding rapidly
in a foamy disguise,
all seen in a moment
in a realm without eyes

posted by permission from poet Dave Holloway

photo: Eidos (mena)

license- Creative Commons

Hope (a poem during the storm)

Hope is seen in the eyes of a child

heard in the first notes of dawn

felt in a lover’s first kiss

given freely by a friend

An anchor holding fast

life’s storms cannot tear upon

who never goes amiss

turns the darkness to day

Stands watch over the frail

endures so much

sustains us through life

faithful ‘til the end

You might say

wait Hope closely resembles

a sentiment – Love

hand in hand

two strengths from above

Intelligence an “I” that looks into the Wisdom of the Ages

I was talking to a fellow poet about trees this week. We were musing about the intelligence stored up in the trees. What mistakes would we bypass if we could access the ancient wisdom of the trees?

Have you ever contemplated what if would be like to have been under the teaching of Plato, or studied art with Monet, or ridden in a tank with MacArthur? Can you imagine the wisdom that those who have gone before us could impart to man today?


Think about the Redwoods or the Sequoias. They are some of the oldest trees in existence – they have been through many wars, survived plagues, droughts, and general mayhem. These trees managed to keep it together during the Civil War. They held their peace when Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated. They felt the earth quake in their roots when bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

Peace Summit

Think about holding a peace summit with the oldest trees in the world. I’m sure they could shed some literal and figurative light on the direction our world is going. They have seen and heard what has come from the ramblings and the idiocies of men.


What would the trees say to us? Listen really carefully and maybe just maybe you can catch a piece of a conversation between two senior citizens:

“Remember that young fella. He was almost as tall as the young saplings. He was interested in trees and mankind – honest too.”

“I remember when Teddy Roosevelt made a tribute to some of our relatives. That human knew a thing or two about trees.”

“You must understand, young Hobbit, it takes a long time to say anything in Old Entish. And we never say anything unless it is worth taking a long time to say.” – Treebeard

If only we would listen, maybe our world could stop the speeding train heading toward disaster. Trees don’t care about economics, but I’m sure they would love to see the human heart exposed. How would it fair if it were exposed?

The trees would expound on the merits of wisdom. Wisdom would be revealed in compassion for one’s fellow man rather than the popular getting ahead schemes of the populace.

Straight from the Tree’s Mouth

If we could only get a quote from a tree – hmmm

One felt as if there was an enormous well behind them, filled up with ages of memory and long, slow, steady thinking; but their surface were sparkling with the present; like sun shimmering on the outer leaves of a vast tree, or on the ripples of a very deep lake.’ The Lord of the Rings- The Two Towers

If you have been reading my “I” series this is a different kind of  “I”. Hope it causes you to ponder. As I stood beneath an old tree today, I tried to soak in just a little something – Intelligence??? Who knows…

Playing with Words (a poem)

One day she sat down
took all her words
set them end to end
Working them in a different display

She remembered a day
One so far away
When she played
another form of art

Monday was clay
She set out her tools end to end
Wednesday was oils
The palette filled end to end with color
Molding shapes and color was her craft

Each day a joy
Like playing with a new toy
She couldn’t choose a favorite
For each was a friend

And now on words
she can depend
to give a new form of art
to challenge and to bend

At least I can spell inept – a blog

Today I had one of those days.

Spell it out and one word appears -Inept

Inept? Let’s see what Webster says:


  • Not elegant or graceful in expression; “an awkward prose style”; “a clumsy apology”; “his cumbersome writing style”; “if the rumor is true, can anything be more inept than to repeat it now?”.
  • Revealing lack of perceptiveness or judgment or finesse; “an inept remark”; “it was tactless to bring up those disagreeable”.

Inept in my life:

I’m a writer.  I definitely have “cumbersome writing style” moments or I can be so inept that I miss “it” in a particular piece of  prose. When I am inept as a writer, however, no one gets hurt. My poetry I realize can dig pretty deep. Poetry does that it can be fun loving but often poetry aims at the heart. My poetry aims at the heart in this case like a dart.

I’m also a friend. I love people and I believe am generous and sensitive. But I am also the friend who lacks tact or fails at perception. I don’t even see it when I say something that is offensive or thoughtless.  I must have been born with an inept gene. No excuse.

So what do I do to repair my prose? Tighten it up I suppose.

What do I do to repair the breach with a friend? No word can erase the message I send.

So in the future words of mine take note. Before writing or speaking, take a vote. Learn from the past trend- lest  ineptitude  become a friend.

Today’s motto: Words  are expendable- friends are not!


Looking ahead, without looking back (too often)


Thanks for following a cowgirl on her crazy life journey.

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