Q2Ink - The Studio
1115 Calle de Los Serranos
San Marcos, CA 92078
ph: 760-510-9587
p
Mary's Poetry
& Musings
In celebration of
Sheryl Roush
and
Eldonna Fernandez's
release
Veterans' Day
11 Nov 2009
"Heart of a Military Woman"
I offer this tribute:
OLD GLORY
My heart flutters
with each wave
of Old Glory;
it warms to every fret
every string
every note
heard on the wind.
My soul sings praises
for every burden
she's taken
upon her shoulders
and gives
thanks
for
each sacrifice shed
for our freedom
for our country
and for our home.
Amen
Question
Are you the hole
in the donut
feeling a little dejected
because you were left
out - not included?
Or, are you an independent soul
happiest rolling along
life's avenue of possibilities?
8 April 2009
April
is National Poetry Month
a time for poets everywhere to lift their pens
set fingers to keys
and fill the white space
glaring back at them
with life
only a poet sees
with ears
only a poet listens to
with a heart
only a poet feels
and never quits
until a perfect picture
is left upon the tablet
for humanity
to question and quibble over.
~~~
8 May 2008
A Visit From Buddy
Buddy appears at the screen door, still attached to his owner by a thick blue leash. Eyes sparkling, tail wagging.
I can hardly wait to open the door and invite them in. Not waiting for pats or pets on the head, he leads me to the kitchen cabinet where "Buddy Biscuits" are kept just for him.
Drool seeps from the sides of his mouth as I hurry to retrieve three biscuits (he's on a diet), and remind him to sit and stay. Instantly, butt hits the floor.
I line the BBs up at the edge of a small rug - his eyes never leave the much anticipated treats. He's a good dog. Waits patiently. The moment I say, "Okay. Good boy." huge teeth pulverize each tasty morsel.
I fish out the water bowl, fill it and place it in the corner. He slurps down enough water to wash crumbs from his tongue, doubling back to clean up any left on the floor or rug.
Then and only then do we get to go into the livingroom and visit. After a few kisses and back rubs he's content to plop by the patio door and wait for Don to finish visiting with Patrick. And I'm content to wait for him to appear at the front door and do it all over again.
~~~
Below you will discover bits and pieces of me - some things, I'm sure, I'm completely unaware of myself at this writing. I've always been reserved - quiet - shy. Writing helps me to be more open and better express things that have waited years to appear on paper or here on the web. I believe the following poem from "By Fools Like Me" expresses it best.
The Artist's Canvas
The artist's challenge
is to transport you
to an imaginary place
a twinkling of time
a minuscule moment
inside the chambers of her mind
not yet visited, even by herself.
You journey there together
peeling away layers of disguises
that ultimately reveal
the very essence of its creation
the artist's soul.
27 Apr 2008
Proud to be a writer.
That's how I feel
this morning.
My heart is full, grateful to the many new friends Patrick and I met on Saturday at NCAP's Book Extravaganza
and happy to see old friends, fellow writers and poets. It was an inspiring day.
Thank you.
Reasons
God grants us seasons
and the time.
Poets praise His reasons
with their rhyme.
Home
The hills and hollows of the beautiful Appalachians — my home — home of my mother’s people — home of those West Virginia families who wrote psalms to Aspen and Willow — families who sang hymns to Elm and Sycamore - trees with huge hands that clap and dance in harmony with banjo and harmonica — where spirits of loved ones long passed still remain, unable to leave the beauty and wonder of heaven here on earth.
God's Love
Like fragrant glycerin
God's love shields you
with invisible armor.
Ode To My Favorite Poet, Rod McKuen
Chansonnier*
Laureate that you are, kind sir,
your sultry songs sing of playful seasons
of jasmine and huckleberry wine.
Now, winter wraps your soul in ermine,
warms your memories with sweet cognac
and loses your heart to cats dancing
deep within the wood-burning hearth.
When spring comes courting, you toss
your silver locks behind your head,
tie them loosely with bright scarfs
and snippets of rosemary, and dance.
Summers find you swimming naked
under the pier
even when the moon is full.
And when Autumn rushes to you,
as all autumns do, you smile the smile
of one who’s felt it all before,
fling open windows and doors,
invite her in to dance and sing
and love and weep till the last remaining
leaf drifts from the tree,
... and at long last, you return to me.
— Mary Lenore Quigley
*shahn-suh n-yey: a singer or writer of chansons (a song, especially a French one). A cabaret performer who specializes in songs that combine melody and rapid spoken patter.
Author's Note: For years, Rod McKuen was in hiding, felt he had nothing more to give his loyal fans! Can you believe that? No more movies? No more songs? No more poetry? Broke my heart. And then someone told him about the Internet! Glory Alleluia! Please, visit his webpage and experience Rod McKuen's poetry - he will touch your heart and brush your soul - guaranteed!
Click on my LINKS page above to access his website!
1115 Calle de Los Serranos
San Marcos, CA 92078
ph: 760-510-9587
p
