Road Trip

I'd been getting to know a new camera so I thought I would share one of my first shots with it.


OK! You got me, I just wanted rush on warmer weather, if this don't scream spring days, I don't know what will...

Bewildered and Dazed

I'd had been through this experience more than once, never understanding how I'd could had made it through each time. Now more than ever, I have an appreciation for life trying not to take anything for granted. So much holds more importance to me such as this blog and the friends that I had been able to share with in the blogging community. Even with all that said, I am doing well, usually landing on my feet.

The experience wasn't to long ago but during my rehabilitation is when I rediscovered writing and the blogs at the end of last year. Thanks to you all, I am much a stronger person.

Closing the door behind me
Warming sun splashes my side
Stepping onto the sidewalk
Echoes of distant noises
Something tells me
this is not going to be an usual day

People circle around me
Asking if I’m feeling any pain
I don’t understand what they are saying
The sunny skies are turning grey

Cares I’ve had now have no meanings
My body wants to drift to another place
I notice a bird flying then fading dark
Someone is calling out
Questions from the past

Then a light pokes its way from the deep
Calling for my name
I try to recognize those who are around
Feeling their hands as I still drift away

Fainting voices start getting louder
I think your going to be OK
We’re going to give you something
For your pain

Down the long halls as ceiling lights pass by
To a cold room
Where all is quiet now
Knowing something has gone so wrong
Bewildered left in my daze

Cuckoo Clock

When my grandson would come over to our place, he’s so amazed by the cuckoo clock. It would bring back the memories of my grandmother I was very close to growing up. (From my archives)



Cuckoo Bird Where Did You Go?

Tis a happy day for me
Off to Gramps house to play you see

Tis one thing I don't understand
Little black house with a little white hand

Every time, when the cuckoo comes out
I run behind the living room couch

That little cuckoo bird hid back in
Gramps! Darn! I miss him again?

To see him, I have to be quick as a hick-up
Wait 'til the big hand points straight up

Finally I get to see him, little bird I'd heard before
He came out on his perch, then slammed the door

When I go to Gramps and hear the tick-tock
I see the cuckoo bird I love so much

Up there on the wall
In his big black clock…

Are You Hungry?

A lot of us seem to have been hit with one type of sickness or another, maybe cabin fever over a prolonged winter or some been feeling kind of down.

And others had been missing in action in our blogging neighborhood, till they get feeling better. Well, we will be glad to have you all back.

I felt, I would like to lighten the mood a bit. So I thought I would post this one.

It came up when I was watching a documentary about it a few years back, for one thing I couldn’t believe it warranted a documentary. But hey, they have to fill the time slots with something right?

I used to like it at one time, before my health conciseness took hold several years ago.

I knew that there was an almost cult type following over the stuff and that Hawaii was it’s capital of consumption. Who would have ever known?

How ever I did write this just to be funny, it was one I never took very serious and I sure never planed on putting it out here.

And this will probably gross some of you out, and some of the closet eaters of the stuff, that may never want to admit it, but then that's not really the point

We need some smiles going on…

Mystery Can

One day feeling hungry
Like I never felt before
Decided to go down to the
Neighborhood grocery store

Fumbling through the isles
Looking for a tasty treat
Found a strange square can
Amongst other luncheon meats

So many ways to prepare it
You can cook it in a pan
Or slap it between some bread
With eggs and other types of ham

I prefer it with taters
Or any way you can
One thing you never want to do
Is read the ingredients of your very

Own can of Spam...

Chuckanut Bay

Setting sun as to put the world asleep
Last of the golden light
Slowly fading behind the islands
Dark coal blanket the pinhole sky
Just enough to let some of the light
Reveal the San Juans out across her lap

Mother, I called out to her
Nature snuggles gently to her bosoms
All that is pure in her woods tonight

Answering back a rising lunar sphere
Outline a doe and fawn

absent of daylight colors
Orcas enchant as sirens of the deep

Feeling safe in her arms
She comforts me
Drifting off in my own repose

Wakening by a familiar bald eagle
Acting as a sentry
In the morning twilight

Miles of plush velvet clouds
Laid out across the bay
high up
In solitude

Chuckanut Mountain

Corcus in Snow

When I seen this picture it reminded me of this poem

A few of weeks ago I was looking for a poem I’d had written couple of years before, my brother wanted me to find one he’d remember and I’d didn’t. Some of you may remember, titled A Child’s Angel.

Some of you that know me, my style, is that every now and then I like to write in the simplest of forms. I just like the impact better sometimes.

I’d had found several that I will eventually post, when the time is right. This one is on the same line, of my series of the simple pleasure poems. I’d had already have some of them in earlier post on this blog, one titled Question is one I did after I wrote It’s the Little Things…

It’s the Little Things

How can we ignore
The simple things

As a child smiles
In the rain

Sun’s rays
On a Cold day

The smell
Of breakfast
At camp

How can anyone ignore
What I see
When I look into
Your eyes

Feelings of the heart Of whom We don't even know

Young love

An elder’s admiration
For each other

Or ignore the
Sound of an
Enchanting melody
Of a small wooden flute

Sunbeams through
The trees
On the forest floor

How can we ignore
A kitten’s cry
For a mothers milk

A single crocus
In the snow

First opening
Flower
In the spring

How can we ignore
Little things

That makes
Us
Whole

The Blank Blackboard of Creativity

I was suffering a bout of writers block, a sort of lapse in creativity.

So I’d, diverted my attentions away from blogging for the time being. I had a few other projects that needed some attention.

Work a little while on some of my photography stuff, tried to clean up my wood shop and working a little bit on the garden shed, then off to sorting the stain glass and mosaics for future projects.

Plus getting ready to get our business up and going in the next couple of months by spring…

But this one little story kept creeping in my mind; it is about the looking for the creative side of one-self. Being lost in a fantasy world of enriched inspirations while trying to put something artful together, in a world others had gotten lost…

All I had to do was to pay attentions to the subtle clues around everywhere and form guidance or a map if you will, back to one’s creative side, a spirit…

Boy, it sure sounded good in my head though. Now that it is written out, well, I suppose I will be editing it a few times here and there.


from deviantart...

Search for the Lost Poem

There’s a time
When the winds are still
A forest path
That leads to nowhere

Lost for words
Hearing a fainted flute
Brings you in further

A path by the pond
There’s a toad laughing
Birds in the trees keep singing

All that is gold
Can fool you
It just is
What it is

Down the trail there’s a stone
With strange markings
Not knowing what they say
Preceding
Ignoring

Next to a dam
A wise beaver points
The other way
Saying
You won’t find it here
What you came for

Whispering through the leaves
Are the voices of those
Who wandered
Lost

Their unwritten poems
Songs never sung
Artist left aimless

Leaving the woods
Throwing your best
To the breeze
Hoping not to feel so vulnerable
Or too harshly criticized

Finding all that
Appears to be gold
Will be fooled

Sitting by an old oak
Taking in the surroundings
The sounds
Fragrances
Swept up
In the currents of air

Two dragonflies
Circles the oak

Following them
As they wait for you
To catch up

Taking you closer
To the edge of the forest
Out into the meadow
To where you started

Words fall from the sky
Scattered to the ground

Standing back
Phrases start to emerge
Stanzas form
To the writings of self-style
And the awareness of
Found discoveries