Saturday Mornings as a Child - a Blogger Exercise

Unlike the more recent Saturdays of My Life, I used to rise very early. It would be a terrible waste to sleep through Saturday cartoons, so an internal alarm clock woke me earlier than my electric one did on school days.  Though I remember numerous arguments with siblings regarding TV content on my family's one TV, we managed a delicate truce on Saturdays.  Chalk it up to a shared love of programming.  Cartoons brought out our best qualities: I was willing to endure my brother's monster shows because I knew one of my favorite shows would come next: Lassie's Rescue Rangers, Road Runner, or my all-time favorite, Scooby Do.  Those mornings were memory-making moments in time for us.  We never bothered to change out of our crumpled nightgowns or pajamas, nor did we waste time running a brush through our hair.  Waking adults only led to parental demands that we leave the den and come into the kitchen for breakfast, so we usually tip-toed down the stairs as quietly as possible. Breakfast, when it could no longer be avoided, usually involved a quick meal of slurped-down cereal.  The boxes themselves were more interesting those days, but best of all, they often contained "toys" - cheap items that usually couldn't be "played with," but which were the source of many fights over ownership nonetheless.  I have a special place in my  heart for those long mornings that, unfortunately, became afternoons.  “Afternoons” began when the TV programming switched from cartoons to sports, and fathers replaced children on the couches.

Just Once..... With Meaning

Just once I'd like to be a part of a heard, a pack, or a pride of majestic creatures.

Just once I'd like to be a fish that swims with purpose and knowing in a school.

Just once I'd like to be a bird who flies in beautiful and mysterious formations within a flock.

Just once I'd like to be a part of something greater than myself and the life I lead in miniature.

Just once I'd like to trade my aching heart of aloneness for unquestioned membership.

Just once I'd like to belong.

Sorry, Little Blog

I didn't intend for these pictures to become posts!  My apologies for inundating the mailboxes of my numerous fans...

Dear Little Blog:
I've said all there is to say today via other forms of social media. The only thing I've neglected to say through those venues is that I feel really sad for some reason. Perhaps it's the about-to-rain-but-hasn't-rained atmosphere that's so heavy I feel it could suffocate me. Or maybe just the cycle of things in my life: beginnings and endings. Or maybe it's hearing about the pain of others. Whatever the source, I know it'll be short-lived. I just wanted to put some words around my feelings. There. Done.

The Past, Vol. 2: Waiting and Wondering

I wonder
if you're a hairless wonder
or underneath a hairy guy?

I wonder
If I'll blunder
and start to cry?

I wonder
if you will plunder
my depths and make me sigh?

I wonder
about these tiny lines on your face
will I touch every one
with my fingers, follow them until they've been traced?

I wonder
about the heart that beats in your chest
Will it pound til dawn
or be calm
absorbing me with zest?

I wonder
about your lips
will they be wet to the touch
and will you kiss my fingertips?

I wonder
will you taste sweet
when me you greet
in a rest'raunt or cafe?

Will you seem cold
Quiet or bold
When you meet me halfway?..

I wonder
what your shoulders will feel like
When I rub my hands down them?

And I wonder
What your special "touch-points"'ll do
Once I've finally found them?

I wonder
what it will feel like
to be wrapped up in your arms

Will you be full of charm,
Or will you warm
My cold heart from a long-lost place?

From the Past, Volume 1

I want you to knock on my private door.
When I answer, I want you to come inside.
I want to invite you into my body; my life.


I want you to invite me for dinner.
I want you to eat me alive.
I want you to kiss me and give me a delicious surprise.


I want to embrace all of you.
I want to give you all I have to give.
I want your heart to meet mine in the place that it lives.


In you I've found treasure.
And I expect to find pleasure.
All beyond measure.

For My Grandfather

I'm so sad

I'm so blue

I don't know what I'm gonna do

Someone I love will pass away

What will I do then, what will I say?

Who will hold my hand in church?

When I can't be found, mount a telephone search?

Who will check on me every day

To see how I  feel as HE  slips away?

I think I could handle these things, could handle them just maybe:

But who on Earth will call me "Baby?"