I.
The sand stretches
on and on.
From my umbrella's shade
to the toe lapping coolness
of waves sliding in,
I sprint across the wide expanse
crying Ouch!
with every step.
Trapped heat scalds
my soles as
I tumble headlong
toward the water's
promise of relief,
sighing as saltwalter
takes the sting away.
II.
But the ocean reaches
farther still -
a hundred miles -
even more -
to a horizon
so hazy
it seems like a
dream.
I close my eyes
and fly,
free,
to the edge of the sky.
Breathing in humid air,
filling my lungs
with the smell of
summers long gone
and starry skies,
I fly.
III.
I fly to the sound
of a thousand tomorrows.
Away from a beach
sharing decades of stories,
above an ocean
singing about an eternity
of the world
in motion.
As I cross the horizon,
for a split second
I'm suspended
between this world
and the next.
Our history sprawled behind me,
an infinite future ahead...
the beauty in all time and space.
I fly.
- ljh 6/24/17
Tag Archives: writing
the swing in my waist, and the joy in my feet
Phenomenal Woman
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms,
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them,
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need for my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
- Maya Angelou
into the morning sky – poems from the sunroom
Morning Birdsong
I close my eyes
and listen -
just listen -
stilling the noise
inside.
Geese honking past,
the woodpecker tapping,
even a rooster chimes in
once in a while.
A low rhythmic undertone -
who - oo - woo woo woo
And on top the songs of
dozens of birds
run counterpoint -
eee eee eee eee eee
ee-ya ee-ya ee-ya eee
chee chee chee chee chee
a trill scale, a short staccato,
a long low calling that carries
across the water.
Layer after layer
of birdsong
offered up
into the morning sky.
- ljh 4/14/17
writing “Read me, Seymour!” titles
Imagine this: you’ve reached the end of your time on the Earth. You’re standing before St. Peter (folks who aren’t on board with the whole Pearly Gates scenario, just roll with me for a minute) and this is what you hear: “Tell me why you deserve to stay in heaven. You have thirty seconds. Go.”
You’re faced with arguably the most important pitch of your existence, and the seconds are ticking away. No pressure, right?
Blogger Recognition Award
What a delight to learn that I’d been nominated for the Blogger Recognition Award! Many thanks to Mom Of Two Little Girls for visiting RFTM and sharing the love. You should check out her work – she’s blogging her way through motherhood, and a lot of us can relate to that.
To pay it forward, here are the rules:
- Thank the blogger who nominated you and provide a link to their blog.
- Write a post to show your award.
- Give a brief story of how your blog started.
- Give two pieces of advice to new bloggers.
- Select 15 other bloggers for this award.
- Comment on each of their blogs, letting them know they’re nominated and linking back to this post.
breathe in, breathe out
My eyes slide open
and I pause,
patiently listening
to the dark,
waiting to learn
what pulled me
out of sleep
and into this hushed bedroom
at midnight.
These used to be my moments
of fight or flight,
adrenaline kick starting
as I strained to catch
a sound invading
our home,
trampling
the peace of mind
in my blanket cocoon.
Even the buzz of
a streetlight
could stop my heart.
All these years later
it is simply an
inconvenience,
an hour better left to
kids out clubbing
or New Year's Eve.
I quietly breathe
and focus on the world
around me.
- ljh 2/8/17
in matters of the written word
Listen, I know I can be a bit of a nut with the English language. I’ll admit I have plenty of triggers in this area, both spoken and written, and that it’s entirely possible more than one person has given me the side eye if they overhear my rant. That’s my baggage. I own it.
Grammar mistakes – especially on important stuff like, you know, artwork titles – make me crazy, and pretty much any sentence ending with at (“Hey, Jim, where’s that remote at?”) makes me shudder. I’m not asking for the Queen’s English here, just a reasonable resemblance to proper English. It doesn’t even have to be fancy English. I’d be satisfied by casual language with some slang thrown in if we could only avoid those traffic stopping blunders.
Oh, and in case our texting generations were wondering, writing still matters.
Sunday Snapshot: roaming free
Kauai, Hawaii
The roosters roam free near Spouting Horn, ignoring tourists who come to gawk and take endless pictures of the ocean. They peck the ground patiently, intent on lunch, oblivious to children's feet thundering past with cries of "Careful!" in the air. Women open their stalls nearby, setting up wares while reckless visitors lean too far over the fence, craning their necks to catch a single glimpse of water flying fifty feet high. They come to see spectacular beauty but rush right past the gorgeous creatures at their feet. - ljh 2/1/17
