Ode to the Blackwater Angel

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An Ode to the Blackwater Angel

 

As one angels wings burned as she embraced the devil

The Blackwater Angel wrapped her wings around an acquaintance

In a compassionate embrace of understanding and empathy

In the darkness before dawn as a New Year’s seed is sown

She opened her heart to a lost soul.

Good genes, she loves and cares about family

Her grandfather had consoling words of wisdom as I was warmed by hot coffee and breakfast

The angel has helped others for years as they come for food and sustenance

And find so much more.

Her understanding comes from listening to others life travails, ups and downs.

She rules the roost holding a Country Diner and all who enter in her warm accepting embrace.

Wings lift mood and troubles and she has a smile and laugh that shine light on each day.

Never a complaint heard as she makes light of her own troubles and calls herself lucky when near disaster invades.

An angels astute observations given free on the days and events passing while keeping the diner running as she plays point guard in controlling the chaos and distributes food and smiles.

She is a natural actress in real time in real life happenings who accepts all and gives her all each day before she goes home to being a mother and close friend to others and family.

Never say that this Blackwater Angel is ‘just a waitress’ for she is so much more. Whenever I visit even when there is little time to say hello my green tea and ice water with lemon magically appears with a smile that lifts spirits and sets the tone for another good day.

This lost and found soul knows that he has been touched in big and little ways by her way of living each and every day. I hurt when I know that she hurts and hope to be considered a friend who cares about her welfare as so many do who have crossed paths and had her wings wrapped around them.. A country woman who is as warm as flannel on a cold day, empathetic, understanding, caring and a star of the diner

She is the Blackwater Angel

KMP 10/22/2015

Get 100% healthy for you give so much to others and we need your beautiful smiling face and laughter in our day for a long time to come….Thanks

Writing 201:Poetry:Landscape:Enumeratio

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Enumeratio: constructing a list, a successive enumeration of multiple elements in the same series.

It is also Anaphora: the repetition of the same word or cluster of words at the beginning of multiple lines of verse in the same poem.

A FUN ONE

You are my joyous entertainer Not just a cartoon character though just as animated

You are the all-time best variety show, an Emmy winner for sure You dance, you sing, you mimic And always you bring laughter

You are the talk show host and the sidekick You are the invited guests; the singer, the dancer, the song and dance master.

You are the crazy and novel talent act The storyteller and listener Advisor and commenter The clown, the standup comic and court jester

You are the Queen of gesture and animated face and body language

You are quick witted and on the spot of any real moment (“she doesn’t need to see pictures she’s seen his butt plenty”)

You are an original and no one can take your place As you have provided joy and truest laughter to my life.

You are perfect just the way you are

Writing 201:Poetry:Hero(ine):Ballad:anaphora

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Anaphora: repetition of a word or cluster of words in a poem or prose poem.

I awoke with longing and frustration in my being. In a life tinged with sorrow I could not shake the feeling of the dream.

If I could not write:

I could live with it, carry it, carry on, and not put the heavy load of feeling down.

I could make a blanket of my tears for they roll down and carry salt of the earth.

I could leave signs, in the bank of streams and water’s edge of lake and ocean, where waves of wind, water, and time could wear them away.

I could etch my life sketch in stone, but there is too much to say, and words alone would consume the day.

I could read signs of nature and learn to live in wilderness on my own.

I could watch the seasons pass never knowing when it’s my last.

Could I not write?

Feelings, emotion, experience, knowledge, and lessons learned, would stay lost in time.

Though experienced and felt, never seen, not thought out, and only mine.

Dark and lost in shadow, never letting in the light of memory and time perspective,

Never leaving a clue to how I found my way as pathfinder.

Writing 201: Poetry: Water: Haiku

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Spring peeper frog music

Lone sentinel Blue Heron waits

Contemplates food thought [5-7-5]

 

Many moons passed

History written speak your heart

Thine own self be true [5-7-5]

 

Camellias kitchen fire

Spring home for eighty-eight years

Still learning to cook [5-7-5]

 

Sympathy, love, understanding

Without—within, which is worse?

Heart must rule the head [5-7- 5]

 

Other side of love

Together alone, love new

Love the other side [5-7-5]

The Winter Dance

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The Winter Dance

We head out onto the snow-covered frozen lake with darkening skies on the horizon.

The golden retrievers excited at getting out for the daily nature excursion.

Northwest winds, cold and cloud do not dampen our enthusiasm as a change of weather, a collision of fronts low and high fascinate on a piece of the earth that we inhabit together and alone in our exploration.

Just as we reached the far shore the dark clouds opened, shearing winds broke free.

First snow then snow squalls in wind-blown gust engulfed us in a dancing natural whiteout of changing weather and temperature.

Turn to get the wind with us as we head back toward the warm shelter of home.

Stopped in awe at the beautiful and wild chaos moving all around Snow devils jumped up everywhere and moved to gusty rhythms in wild dances Spins swirls to and fro in small tornadoes of snow.

They existed as energetic torrents of wispy shades of white as alive as you and I. They lived a short time jumping up dancing and moving only to disappear in the distance.

Others seemed to see the fun and jump up to take their turn as dancing ghosts. Past snow lifts from the lake to grab a new snowy partner in a celebration of the cold and gusty winds that supply the music.

They move and fly across the floor as we make steps toward home. First steps in new snow Ghosts and Apparitions up from the Past appear to move to the Future as we walked among them in the Present.

Just another gift from the great spirit in the sky comes down to play on a mild calm to windy cold day.

The powerful winter dance felt and embraced fast and fleeting in duration yet Forever in spirit memory’

We bend at the waist bow down and thank you for the dance.

My Faithful Instrument

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My Faithful Instrument

The Music of my life
The Beat of my heart
The Dance of a lifetime
The Joy and Laughter of my Spirit
The perfect rhythm and movement of each all of my days
The sweetest of melodies
The heat of love and compassion
The warmth and tender closeness of the waltz
The stage for my performances
Your body and spirit are my smooth and perfect instrument
And together in each other’s arms exist the only safe place and piece of heaven I have ever found
Handled with care
We will play on….

Searching for a good honest woman

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A FUN ONE
You are my joyous entertainer
Not just a cartoon character though just as animated
You are the all-time best variety show, an Emmy winner for sure
You dance, you sing, you mimic
And always you bring laughter
You are the talk show host and the sidekick
You are the invited guests; the singer, the dancer, the song and dance master.
You are the crazy and novel talent act
The storyteller and listener
Advisor and commenter
The clown, the standup comic and court jester
You are the Queen of gesture and animated face and body language
You are quick witted and on the spot of any real moment,focused and truthfully present
You are an original
As you provide joy and truest laughter to my life
And you are perfect just the way you are

Someday Cafe

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Blank Canvas of paper

Frosty early December Day

Sun is out

Shines light without warmth

Like emotion without thought

Jazzy tune on the sound system

Female vocalist Marisa Monte

Emoting warmth and joy

Song and coffee

Wake and Warm

A Weary soul with Wounded Spirit

Davis Square busies with Everyday People

On missions and quests of their own

Bundled against cold, eyes blinded by morning light

Lost in thought without emotion

Caps, Lids, Hats, Covers, Hoods, Scarf

A Bad Hair Day for all

In the eyes of a follacly challenged man

They are fortunate to have a hair day at all

Any Port in a storm, Hat in cold weather

All is relative in the missions of people everyday

Warmth on this side of the window glass

Looking glass on the world

Seen behind Blue Eyes

That have already viewed

A lifetime never imagined

We dream of how it would be

Take Paths from the Crossroads of Time

People passing the looking glass

May never cross paths again

Tufts University Student 22 will never see 23, never be fabulous again

Yesterday was his last

A fifth year Liberal Arts Student, heading for educated unemployment

Would welcome: a cold sun, light of day, emotion

With or without thought

Warmth, coffee, joy, song.

Blank canvas of paper

A Frosty December Day

Sun is out

Siren sounds piercing the cold

No one looks up

The Rescue crosses their path

But does not stop at their door today… sanctuary found

they raise their cups

Safe at the Someday Cafe

The Touch of Winter

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A paintbrush of white dusts the landscape in crystal celebration of the season.

A paintbrush of white dusts the landscape in crystal celebration of the season.

The Touch of winter
A Crystal water caress of snow
The sunny silence of a cold winter day shines in a new coat
Icy wind crystallizes dreams of warmth
A dusting that covers the ice surface
A country skating rink marks a spot where the shore kisses a hill
Near a lake inlet which drains from frosted wetland
A wondrous place in natural flux of seasonal changes
A sacred place where giant granite boulders hold sway against manmade hand and the storms of nature
Mark the passing of glaciers past
The tick of a wall clocks seconds break the silence
The only reminder that this perfect land at waters’ edge has been touched by human
Dreams of ownership
Nothing but a single frozen vaporous breath or a seconds tick
In this lands grand timelessness
Yet winters icy grip cannot stop a heartfelt spirit or dissipate
The crystal dream of touching the infinite

A winter blanket

A winter blanket

Winter blanket makes an XTerra a snow cave

Winter blanket makes an XTerra a snow cave

Frigid Footprints Etched in Time

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Frigid Footprints Etched in Time

Time to reflect find meaning

Ready and gather strength for future seasons

Time to live in a present moment built on the past

To find bliss each day in just being

In feeling hoping loving

In gently holding to patience and faith

Touching natures surround unbound

Time is infinite change in an expanding universe

Like the lake surface blanketed in snow from transient storm

Change in flakes and crystals of water mixing moving gathering

Little twisters of white move in gusty gestations

Infinite equations of changing destination and motion

Eyes watery and face worn with lines of season old and the days cold

Manmade mirror of glass in shore side ice rink

Altered the blanket by pulling it back for gliding space

Tuck in the edges to border and shape

Sore eyes gaze in wonder from weathered countenance

Great spirit of nature and all uses a whisk brush of gust

A vehicle of wind and a wispy medium of snow

To draw-paint a picture in the tenor of the season and flux of time

Transposing a lake shore rink into an ever changing etch a sketch image of life

Shaken by wintry blast infinite design is cast