OCTOBER TRAILS

October, comes again,
with bright golden leaves,
blustery with winds
and chill falling rain.
Frost has touched, the trees
in colors, carnival fair.
Ruddy apples, red and sweet.
hot pies to make,
spicey and neat.
pears, blushing at their best,
to can and bake, served up
with cream and cinnamon zest.
Halloween, A time of mystery
and magic. When the unexpected
may turn up.
you might see your future at
the bottom of your
cinnamon teacup.
Baroque carved pumpkins,
lighted on front verandas,
guiding small costumed
spirits, in their disguises.
from the residents,
seeking sweet surprises.
the cycle moon now,
arises. time to treat has
come and gone,
every goblin, elf and gnome
returns home.
the exciment is now over.
but, never fear.
October comes,
once, each year.
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DREAMS AND TRAILS

Feeling rushed and dismayed.
what happened to all
the plans we made.
time, fleeting has gone by,
like the birds that
travel acrossthe sky.
at least the birds
have a the nack,
to know their track.
we know not the future trace,
even though we plan a pace.
looking foreward in anticipation,
searching in great expectation.
so much to do,
so much to see,
we only experienced half
of what we'd thought,.
the rest now can't be bought.
no I'm not distraught,
as I look back without a pain,
and realize all we've gained.
our golden time has been well spent.
all the lovely places where we went.
what we've seen and
how much we learned
experiences, to not be spurned.
some dreams, realized,
trails explored.
we were never bored.
Now I can look back,
all I've done and all I've seen,
I close my eyes,
and again,
remember all my dreams.
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WISHING TO THE 'OUT THERE'

I wish something good would come around.
surely a pleasantness could be found.
some relief would be great.
what we deal with now,
leaves us in such a state.
Yes, I am upset,
such a lot to handle, yet,
no this is not a 'whine'.
I am just referring to this life
of mine.
To go shopping in a store,
because, there are times
shopping online can be bore.
Buying books after long pour,
is hard make up my mind,
so, no new book to find.
I try to draw in my sketching book.
but, no inspiration of any kind.
no matter where I look.
Oh, give me back a little life,
I'm tired of all this strife.
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NIGHTBIRD SINGING-----

In the streamimg stillness,
when the world lies dreaming,
through the Deep Blue night hours,
Comes a breath
that overpowers
all else around.
Bringing all into clairity.
Calm flows through the heart,
that gives the soul
a place to rest.
to recover a home
within one's breast.
hear a Night Hawk
in flight, winging
it's way through the night.
listen to an Owl in oak
resting it's wings.
The night brings forth
a number of things.
All the jumbled thoughts
of the day, find
a time and place to fit.
To renew the Chi,
to arrange them
in an orderly way,
which can't do during day.
Finding out where one is
and how to be.
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COMPUTER-WITH OVERDRIVE

Ha, do any of you know what that means. I was going to use a different title. But it rhymes with my real name. So, I had to re-phrase it.
What it refers to in this instance, is, good grief, we now have a faster computer. I always was a lead foot, runs in the family. Well, not my Mom. Just the rest of us. My poor old tower computer, is setting in a dark and unused room. My Hb. and I were finally forced , into 21st cen. Most unwilling. But, we are getting the hang of it. I hate change. But, life is nothing change. I wish someone had told me that as soon as I could talk. I would have been better prepared.
However, it is a little more fun, to be faster. I can watch some of the videos. And DVDs. I watch movies. I am now looking for old movies. Real movies. Not, this supersilious, over done, artificial,
digital stuff. Sorry kids. I prefer my entertainment to have a strong story line.
Characters to care about. A content worth my time. Otherwise, if I want animation. I'll watch cartoons, or the colored, illustrated, papermedia.
Yes, I'm still talking 'computer'. I am able to do artwork with it. Original art, that only exists in the hard drive. If I want one I can print it out. But, that is really only a copy, the real one is only; 'vertual'. Saves waste.
With faster speed. I can order on the 'net. Very convenient, since I can no longer go to a mall or real store. Although, I love to browse-shop. I haven't been in a long time.
Something I always wanted, my own Library. I started collecting books. But, each time we moved, I had to sell some of my books, because we needed the money, and wanted to cut down on the weight and packing.
Since we moved here. I only have a few cases of books. I'm not collecting anymore. I borrow from the city library---because: I have a vertual Library. My computer. No dusting, no clutter and Hb. doesn't have to build more shelves. So, that wish has really come true. My Dad would have liked that. Mom would have loved the shopping connections.
The email is nice, but, not always. I only have person I trade handwrittern letters with. You know, when someone hand writes a USPS letter, it's always more personal. An email always seems edited, so as not reveal anything too personal, because email gets 'hacked' and I.D.'s stolen.
So, who will I watch to night? or shall I go to Project Gutenberg? Maybe check the news on Yahoo. Perhaps, drive myself nuts at eBay. Wow, choices, choices.
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TWISTS AND TURNS

Life of is a journey, of the uncertain, unknowable, unforeseeable, obstacles. things we hope to be maybe found, or not. potholes so deep, we almost drown. a bump may seem a mountain, a mountain may turn out to only a bump. our perspective changes, but, we try to hope, to wish, and sometimes pray. but everything is a surprise. I HATE surprises. they are always nasty.
trying make a life worth living. a life that shows it was worthwhile to our parents for bearing us and raising us.
Well, here we are at this, and any quality of life is diminished. My Hb. has been diagnosed with ALS.
there is only a long list of 'can'ts'. very short list of; 'still able to'.
at least my IBS is over, so, I am able to be there for him.
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DAYS, LIKE LEAVES IN THE WIND

Days like leaves in the wind,
go blowing, drifting by.
sitting, unable to fill,
my day with meaning.
Too much pain,
can't think.
just trying--
I write a line,
the key says,'enter'.
enter ? where?
enter, what?
who is this? where did she come from?
My eyes ache. all over.
my hips -ache-
all over.
I have no desire to dwell on that.
Not, being able to create,
is a death for an artist.
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