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Photo by Cristian Newman on Unsplash

i wore green on a day
nature’s bounty guiding my path
rejoicing in the vivid reminders
of rejuvenated life
bounding awake from a long winter’s sleep

i wore pink one day
flitting and floating thru the streams of humanity
i glittered and gleaned a bit of serenity
a gloaming guiding my mood

i wore blue another day
focused on the colors of sky
bathed in the waters of the ocean
drenched in the fires of ice

i wore yellow that happy day
glowing like the sun
basking in the warmth of a lover’s gaze
frozen in the absence of touch

i wore a red on an ancient day
reflecting the heat of passion
remembering the arms of another
fighting for breath
reaching for warmth
resolved to my ache from the merest…


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May 3, 2019 — Jensen Beach, Florida — Photo by Author

A Never-ending Poem — Sunset Prompt


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Seashells on the local beach during a short walk. Don’t worry. There were no other people around. And yes, I wore my mask!

My mother’s been singing today. It seems to bring her comfort when she’s feeling the stress of this new world in the age of a viral nightmare. She’s got quite the selection to choose from: little ditties, drinking songs, a random snippet from an actual popular song she remembers from her youth, and then occasionally she’ll burst out with this little twist on an old favorite:

On top of Old Smokey
Where nobody goes
I saw Betty Grable
Without any clothes

Along came Bing Crosby
without any vest
He saw Betty Grable
And took off the rest…!

Can anyone hear the sound of the record screeching besides me? No? Well… let me help you understand my conundrum: My mother is a PRUDE. …


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Photo by 🇨🇭 Claudio Schwarz | @purzlbaum on Unsplash

My mom has taken up residence in her recliner in front of the TV. She’s not watching anything. She’s sleeping again. This is both a good thing and a troubling thing. This morning, my mom told me she’d lost her sense of smell. It’s frequently the very first symptom shown in new COVID-19 patients. She’s much more tired than usual and she’s been coughing more than usual. A dry, troubling cough. It breaks the silence that has taken over the house, except for the constant drone of the news broadcasts discussing the pandemic and its impact.

There are many reasons for my silence of late. Most of them have to do with my seeming lack of ability to find anything of worth to say. Some of them having to do with my complete focus on keeping my mom and step-dad well in the face of a virus that would, with almost all certainty, kill them both in a matter of days of exposure. …


a divergence of truth

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My granny’s photo of her cat. Circa 1936.

there’s a place
location unrevealed
as is the singularity of
a consciousness
cast on the sea
in commutations of shade
no one acquainted
except one

there’s a someone
disparate from them
coincidentally analogous
a divergent veneer
with no one aware
except one

the changes in me
are difficult to see
sans proper appraisal
penurious in delivery
an invisible existence
with complementary adjustments
congruous fissures
fractious splinters
visions fraught
consciousness caught
between
reality and anarchy
no particle revealed
except one

the person i project
the mask that i wear
a dichotomous identity
a camouflage, concealment,
containment of truth
distanced from my i
which can never be
no vision revealed
except…


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Sunset like only Florida can produce in late December. Palm trees are optional.

I’ll keep this entry short since it’s well past my bedtime and the New Year celebrations, or lack thereof, have worn me out!

Day Nine Yesterday, I thought was going well, until my mother surprised me, while I was in the middle of telling my stepdad a story, by telling me that I was boring her and I should please “just shut up already!”

I retired to my room and couldn’t decide if I was more hurt or angry at her rudeness. I decided on angry, but, also let it go until the morning. When she’s in one of these moods, it’s rarely a good idea to confront her with how wrong she’s being. …


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I got a couple pencils. This not even close to being just the tip of the iceberg that is my pencil collection. The two artist boxes, three pencil cases and two storage boxes hold much more!

So, I missed a couple days and am now needing to post on a third, but, who’s counting, right?

Christmas Day — Day Six — I was grateful for another day with little to no family dramas. Well… except for the meltdown my mom had when I “disappeared” because I was “mad at her”. (I’d gone to take a shower in anticipation of folks arriving for dinner.) My stepdad tried for almost twenty minutes to calm her down, to no avail. It only really happened when I came to ask her to help with my bracelet. She really thought I’d left! I was also grateful that my innocently asking her to do the clasp for me was an instant balm to her anxiety and we had no more “dramas” the entire rest of the day. I hadn’t had a clue that she was so upset until I walked in and saw the tears, but, chose to act like nothing was happening to get her distracted. Worked like a charm! …


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Pixabay

I actually have two things I’m grateful for today…

First, the day passed quickly. I spent the hours cooking with my mother in preparation for tomorrow’s Christmas Eve Dinner and it passed without incident, despite her getting precariously close to the edge several times.

She’s made it clear enough that she has several stressors associated with entertaining for the holiday and the biggest ones revolve around food and its preparation.

Especially around the quantity of food.

See? We used to be a rather big family. Five children plus their spouses and their children brought the number arriving at her house for a sit-down dinner to nearly thirty, every single holiday. That does not include friends who may join nor the occasional arrival of one of her siblings and their wives and children. So, given her disconnect with the current reality and the lack of proximity of many of the former guests at her holiday table, her recipes tend to produce a rather alarming amount of food when you consider that this Christmas we are cooking for a measly seven people. And she got upset because I pointed out that we didn’t need three pans (measuring 3" D x 18" W x 24" long. EACH!) of lasagna! She decided she needed four quarts of ricotta cheese, four pounds of mozzarella, twelve sausages, and three pounds of lasagna noodles or there “would never be enough food!” …

About

Terijo

Wake the Red-head. G’head. I double-dog dare ya. Poet, Thinker, Mother, Lover… Friend. 💋

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