radiance beyond wrinkles
The prompt at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai is Violet
words echo art
radiance beyond wrinkles
The prompt at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai is Violet
scent of orchids–
like a foreign country
the sickle moon
The prompt at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai is Lily of the Valley. Something about that flower reminds me of my grandmother.
Thanks to friends like Charles Martin I am inspired each day to keep writing…
“Life’s memories are like packages with bright bows” ~ L. Moon
I look at you from north, south, east, and west
like a cat I watch you and wait
sitting on the edge of expectation
don’t pretend that you are inert
you who shine with brilliant colors
holding poignant the past
underneath your cheerful bow
it is all I can do to be patient
“don’t shake the box”
I hear a cherished voice
one I thought I would never lose
every gift you wrapped
was filled with thought
down to a holly sprig or jolly elf
perched on top of the bow
what is inside this time?
recollections do play tricks
and you have to accept the mix
of jovial, spicy and sad
I’d rather not hear the crunch of paper
like the dead leaves of winter
I’d rather look at my reflection
of a much younger me
in precious grey old eyes
and remember the
Merry Christmas to each of you. May the songs that you hear and the scents that permeate your world bring you memories to keep you warm!!!
confident your steps
songs echoed in difficult shadows
My grandmother was a pioneer, a lover of life, a survivor. When she was told to put her daughter in a facility for retarded children, she refused. She spent her years loving, laughing and shedding an occasional tear. I always wanted to have her spirit – I hope I succeeded.
Who is the ancestor in your life that brings a vibrant memory?
Today’s prompt at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai is “Ancestor”
It opened so many doors
skeletal though in shape
my memories whirl
for a moment I escape
she had curly hair
a saucy cherub smile
she never got angry
well maybe once in a while
she gave me the key
it opened a world
was unforgettably hurled
the day that she left
tears rose like the Sea
I wanted to lock
every sweet memory
now this hangs to remind
of the door to her heart
it never is closed
though we live far apart
The key above does in fact dangle off the handle off an antique. It originally opened the doors in my grandparent’s home.
My grandmother the queen of storytelling and opening the imagination of a small girl.
This week’s prompt for Poet’s United Midweek Motif is Key
I also pulled this short story from my archives. This is the type story my grandmother would have told.
The boy’s hands had been frozen cold by the snow. He shivered wondering if he had the strength to return home. He looked at the key. So tiny yet full of life; he could feel it. As the gold key turned in the box, the key began to grow and glow. “I am warm,” the boy said in cheerful surprise.
The fire he had hoped for sprung up around the key, but the boy was brave and touched the fire without being burned. He now knew this was no common key.
Though many people in the presence of magic ask for something to ease their lot, the boy was content to hold the warm key and box. The box got heavier until the boy reluctantly set it down on the ground. He held fast to the curious box fearful it would vanish.
The box became hot as it ignited from the key’s glow. The boy continued to hold on tight. As the flame grew more intense, the box, which revealed itself to be pure gold, became clear like glass. The boy expectantly peered inside. The only thing he could see was a plain gold ring. He reached in through the fire, grasped the flame filled ring, and placed it on his finger.
An onlooker would have seen a most magnificent thing on that cold frosty morn. A key, a box, and a ring transformed a boy to a knight. The glow about him melted the snow. A kaleidoscope of color mingled with the fire, flowers sprung from the impotent earth, fruit sprouted on nearby trees, and life that had so long ago departed returned to the barren land.
Little did this simple boy know that he was chosen by the key for a mission. The knight would save many downtrodden soul in the cold, unrelenting world and provide golden hope for the besieged. Long after the knight was gone stories would be told, through the land, of the knight who carried warmth for all in his heart.
The Golden Key by the Fairy Tale masters the Grimm Brothers is the preface to this story.
I cannot remember
in what century I started
only you will know where I will end
In the hands of a potter my form charted
in fine french porcelain he could depend
crated or hands carried me
though dropped a long time ago
I travelled across continent and sea
it was I guess my destiny
to become part of your large family
a grandmother’s wish and dream
to a young bride’s dowry
your taste has changed it seems
or is it loving memory
of a woman who gazed 50 years at me
more than 2 decades I grin
you have set me apart
never mind that I don’t fit in
for I always do in your heart
that I will always remember
This very old piece of pottery never fit in with my other antiques but I have learned to love it all the same.
What’s the oldest thing you own? (Toys, clothing, twinkies, Grecian urns: anything’s fair game.) Recount its history — from the object’s point of view.
DP prompt for today – Antique Antics
Lifting our voices
waterfall of her memories
love’s smiles she left
Threnody is a song hymn or poem of mourning composed as a memorial and is the haiku prompt at Carpe Diem
Photograph: “Candle lit music” © L Moon 2013
I feel her walk in a whisper
scent of fresh linen wafts past
the crinkle of parchment
an old lighthearted laugh
through an old RCA
the taste of black licorice
and squeezed lemonade
transport me back
to the ways of old
where the things black and white
were in stories you told
I clasp all that I have
a sepia of you
the memories inside
will have to get me through
A solitary figure looking
listening for you in the silent waters
For one moment I heard young laughter
inspired by you
a much younger me
You robed in wisdom
crowned in silver
we dance and sing
fairies from a younger time
discovery of cherished yellowed memories
reach into the blue
trace the reflection of you and I
ripples of giggles
I harken to new sounds of glee
grateful for the cycle of life
standing still I embrace you and I
at the Palais
It has been a joy to look into the reflection of the work of others over the past month of A to Z challenge where there are rare and beautiful treasures (writings and people). Please enjoy a memory that I pulled from a reflection into the past.
Photography: Palace of Fine Arts L. Moon 2010 ( believe it or not that is an iphone shot)
Seeking for your memories
oh so hard to find
what corner do I look in?
what treasures in my mind?
I’ve lost so many memories
from a far and distant time
beautiful and simple world
many things left behind
Running for a street car
bustle to and fro
“you are so like her
we just thought you should know”
Cheerful with a helping hand
this woman in my heart
you left me ohh too soon
for I’d barely had my start
Thinking back of Christmases
you’re in each and every one
bright colors and heavenly smells
I miss those years our fun
Grandma dear I’ll ner forget
the gifts you gave this child
I cradle them in my heart
I’ll always wear your smile
Learning to live by the indwelling life of Christ.
Gud skaper noko nytt ved sitt Ord og sin Ande, vi kan ta imot det i tru og få oppleve at han gjer sitt verk med oss. Hans skaparkraft verkar konstuktivt i våre liv og skaper noko som er verdifullt for oss. Naturkreftene verkar nedebrytande, i fylgje entropilova, men Gud er Ånd og det som er født av hans Ande består. Jesu frelsesverk er fullbrakt og fullkome. Han er den siste Adam, som er ifrå himmelen og som for oss har vorte ei livgjevande ånd. Han gjev oss den Heilage Ande frå himmelen av berre nåde. Han gjev oss det evige livet.
Looking ahead, without looking back (too often)
Thanks for following a cowgirl on her crazy life journey.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. - Edgar Allan Poe
Hoping to make the world more beautiful
Books by author Diana Coombes
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
my humanity in written form
Experiments in Creative Writing, and more ....
Poetry by Mich
FOR READERS AND ASPIRING WRITERS
Everyday musings ....Life as I see it.......my space, my reflections and thoughts !!
From Board Books to Clean YA
Cherishing the Past while Celebrating the Present
FROM ONE PARENT TO ANOTHER
Living life with dissociative identity disorder and complex ptsd