100/100 days of summer

My Bed is a Planet

My bed is a planet peopled by
my cat and me. Other planets
spin by but she curls up on my lap
next to my computer and she and I 
explore the universe.

99/100 days of summer

Spinning to the End

The world, a helicopter seed spinning,
out of control, but in somewhat of a pattern,
a bit graceful, but definitely landing.
Round and round we go, not knowing
when and where it will stop but we know
it will stop. Will we be ready or crushed 
underfoot like a dry helicopter seed?

98/100 days of summer

Better Views

Trees hide the better views,

so they say, but I say

trees are the views—

tall thick oaks like beloved grandfathers

lovely golden aspens shaking castanets

weeping willows swaying like hula dancers

cottonwoods with seeded fluff like children blowing bubbles

pine trees, ever green and pointing up, godly reminders,

poplars, maples, elm, tulip, hickory, birch, ash, larkspur—

all lovely views within themselves. See, really see, the trees.

97/100 days of summer

Ready on the Set

I’m not sure who I am or what I want.
Sometimes it feels like I’m an actor 
in a bad movie, eager for a new one.
Sometimes it feels like I’m directing
my own movie, but everyone has forgotten 
their lines. Sometimes it feels like 
the commercial break—time to turn down
the volume, get a snack and wait
for something interesting to happen.
But sometimes I feel like the spunky,
driven protagonist, giving it all I’ve got,
knowing the end will turn out well.

96/100 days of summer

Wishes

She’s been thinking about things that don’t need thinking

about. Fantasies may occupy the moment but don’t make

a bad marriage better. If she needs to wish something, she

needs to wish for the ability to respect him as he is and

to understand that her own happiness isn’t her main concern.

She made a vow that involves more than herself. Just like she

loves her children no matter what, she needs to love him simply

because he’s her husband and that’s the only reason she needs.

95/100 days of summer

Another World

Each summer, the seven of us packed into a station wagon
with our things under an upside-down row boat on top, 
and snacks and bread bags full of sandwiches in a metal cooler
and we’d escape like refugees in the middle of the night.
The youngest squeezed between our parents in the front
while the older four stuffed into the back leaning our heads
on each other’s shoulders one way until one of us would say,
“Lean!” and we’d switch and lean the other way. 
On the way to Delaware, from Pennsylvania,
we’d always tell our parents to wake us up 
when we crossed the Bay Bridge. They never did. 
I wondered why until I was a parent myself. 
We arrived at the cabins in Laurel, Delaware
as the day dawned. They faced a sandy area
and then the lake with docks, boats and a swimming beach.
For a week we lived in a different world from trees and hills,
having the time of our lives: swimming, fishing, 
playing hide and seek with locals and other vacationers.
We’d also go to the ocean and sun burn despite Mom’s best efforts.
Then we’d return home where it looked strange, grassy and beachless.

94/100 days of summer

Sister Love

“It was amazing,”

my widow sister proclaimed.

“After the call,

sisters from across the country

were on my doorstep the next day.”

93/100 days of summer

Mother and daughter

Ten days, three thousand miles

Northwest Odyssey in and Odyssey

92/100 days of summer

Emergency

Ford Galaxy
Sisters
Fight
Slammed Door
Scream
Doctor’s office
Big bandage on middle sister’s toe
Oldest sister feeling guilty for the rest of her life.

91 /100 days of summer Poetic Asdes prompt Sudden

Night Terror

S uddenly a high shriek pierces the night.

U nder slumber I fumble for the light.

D eadly still, I listen for the sound,

D arting fearful eyes all around.

E choing voices fill the halls,

N oting the scream which appalls.

L aughing the farmer points out,

“Y ou’ve heard a peacock, no doubt.”

90/100 days of summer Passions

Passions

The passions of my heart, like fleeting clouds,

drift aimlessly about caught in the wind,

so easily persuaded by the crowds,
my point flopping about unless it’s pinned.

How has the rhino skin become so thinned?

What stirs up firm conviction like a flame?

Where does the grief escape when I have sinned?

I look around, wondering who’s to blame.

But there’s one thing I know for sure is true;

the passions of my heart belong to You.

89/100 Poetic Bloomings Prompt Ancestry

Stories Before Me

My parents taught hard work and honesty

and though Mom attended church,

none of us five girls were made to go

But I always held if I knew God existed

I wouldn’t be content at keeping my distance.

I wanted to be intimate with Him,

and when I was fourteen I learned

that was possible in Jesus.

So I dedicated my life to Him

in complete devotion.

Getting to know Him was new to me

and a great adventure. Imagine my surprise

when my genealogist sister discovered

we came from a long line of pastors,

including Samuel Maycock who was appointed

to be the pastor of the first church at Jamestown.

The Maycocks, when living on an acreage outside the fort,

hid their infant daughter Sarah

during the Jamestown massacre of 1622.

Samuel and his wife were murdered,

but Sarah went on to marry George Pace

whose father Richard had warned Jamestown

and saved those living within the fort.

Another ancestor, Captain Drury Pace

was a chaplain in the revolutionary war.

Some of my ancestors, Scotch Irish,

came over to the U.S.A in the 1600s

and settled the area in Pennsylvania

where I grew up. My sister has an original deed,

dated 1796. That land is now part of the

State Game Lands.

My great grandfather married

and was widowed on their ninth child.

On a trip, he met and married another,
failing to tell her he already had nine kids.
It’s reported that he simply said, “Here’s your family,”
as he introduced them upon arriving home,
my Grandfather Bill being one of them.

So my grandfather Shannon was born in the area

but my grandmother was from Kentucky.

She shared a grandmother with Billy Ray Cyrus

about seven generations back.

The Scotch Irish was a wild bunch

taking the new land by storm,

with “the Bible, a gun and a bottle of whiskey.”

I dropped the gun and whiskey,

but cling to the Bible.

88/100 days of summer devotional thought

Pride and Humility

Pride disguises

as humility

with words such as “I can’t,”

“I’m nothing,” “I’m weak,”

“I’m incompetent.”

With Pride it’s all about “I,”

leaving God out of the picture.

True humility says,

“I’m weak, but God is powerful,”

“I can’t, but God can.”

“My knowledge is limited,

but God knows all.”

True Humility

steps out hand in hand with Faith

knowing a strong powerful loving God

desires to work through

limited humans.

87/100 days of summer Wordle: memorize, sharp, boat, fabric, draw, lift, amber, heart, motions, dripping, path, joints

The Harpist

(an alouette)

Swim motions on harp

Melodic not sharp

Memorized by clever trick

Like honey dripping

Rowboat oars slipping

Or rustle of silk fabric

Subtle draw and shift

Faintly then a lift

Like amber lake shimmering

By a golden path

Though joints suffer wrath

A hopeful heart’s glimmering

86/100 days of summer Morning at My House

7:56

Hallway and stove lights

grow dimmer as sunshine brightens.

Dogs bark in the distance and cars roar.

Kitty sits on my lap underneath an afghan,

occasionally moving like a fetus in a womb.

Drawers thump and plastic and pills click,

as Hubby pulls the medicine.

Our man shuffles out with M & M man

smiling and soliciting kisses.

Our woman moans at morning commotion.

Now 8: 06 time to get breakfast.

85/100 Poetic Asides Prompt Trespass #2

Roots

I trespass

In the neighbor’s yard

To cut the roots of the tree

Of which its branches trespassed in mine

Our problems

May originate

In distant places or time

And we busy ourselves plucking leaves

84/100 days of summer Poetic Asides and Poetic Bloomings

Like Adventurous Children

Children like adventure, to roam and wander.

W hen we were little we’d venture through hills

A nd woods and come upon no-trespassing signs

N ailed to trees or hanging on fences. We weren’t

D isturbed because many acres were free to

E xplore. To country kids, creeks, vines, trees and

R ocks were like playgrounds were to town kids. 

 

Kids like to go here and there and where

W onders await. For endless hours, we

H ad fun climbing, swinging, sliding until

E xhausted. We’d soar in pretend jets and

R ockets and fight villains, monsters and

E vil men to protect our part of the woods—

Woods where we were allowed—always.

A t times we’d be enticed by the forbidden,

L ike a decrepit house surrounded by

W eeds, a hidden monastery or other

A ssorted private properties. But we knew

Y ou got in enough trouble even where we were

S upposed to be. We knew, firsthand, it was so.

So we stuck to where we were welcome. I

W ish, in this life, we’d remember to

E ngage in the opportunites our

L oving God has for us. At times we stay too

C lose to the fences, not venturing out.

O beying His no-trespassing signs, we

M ight have more fun and adventure

E xploring all of the wonders He offers.

83/100 days of summer

Morning tea

Chatting with a friend

One rainy autumn morning

We talk about our summer

Brace ourselves for snow

Encourage

82/100 Devotional Thought

 

Agreement

 

Sometimes, we try to please God

in our own ways

and we actually say no to His blessings,

but instead get into a whole pile of trouble.

He lets us experience this bondage,

in hope we will turn around
and walk in the freedom He has for us.

 

From head to heart,

from in to out,

God wants us to know Him,

walk in His overcoming power,

and receive His blessings
in His way,

in Jesus Christ.

 

Religious practice is not true humility,

but acknowledging who God is

and who we are in Christ—

beloved, accepted, blessed, forgiven,

set apart for Him, children of God—

able to go boldly to the throne of grace

to find help in time of need.

81/100 days of summer Poetic Bloomings Prompt My Love Affair with..

Hiking

Hiking in the desert

With a water jug or two

Hiking up a mountain

Exclaiming at the view

Hiking in the forest

Midst moss and feathery ferns

Hiking along the ocean beach

Until my pale skin burns

Hiking down a pebbled creek

Ducking under bridges

Hiking around a clean blue lake

Admiring rough ridges

Hiking in a cavern

Getting cold and muddy

Hiking hills and broad cornfields

Chatting with a buddy

Hiking by the river’s edge

Across the stepping stones

Hiking by the geysers
Adventure in my bones

Hiking in deep canyons

Scrambling up the rocks

Hiking along the ocean bays

Smelling fishy docks

Listening to the great outdoors

Boldly tell its story

Of the wondrous Creator,

His beauty and His glory

80/100 days of summer haiku

Jesus, my first love

All I think, say, write and do

I devote to You

79/100 days of summer poetic asides prompt worst thing that happened

A Bad Day

 

Mom, a long time diabetic,

developed a sore on her foot

and needed an amputation.

I stood there staring

at the spot

where Mom’s leg should have been. 

At her home, I received a call from my husband.

When his mom took her daily walk,

two chows attacked nearly killing her.

I stared at my computer screen

of news photos

looking like a murder scene.  

It wasn’t a good day for mothers.

78/100 days of summer Poetic Asides prompt your worst thing

Bound and Determined

The bond of marriage

frees when

your heart’s desire

is to be permanently attached,

To love

To depend on

To respect

To support

To cherish
To be friends and lovers.
But when your spouse
loses touch with reality,
and you feel widowed
though your spouse is still alive,
and then repeatedly widowed
with every episode,
the marriage vow
truly becomes a bond.
The bond restrains
until healing begins
and freedom returns.

77/100 days of summer Poetic Bloomings Swap Quatrain

When it Storms

When the skies are gray, the air grows cool

The wind picks up, the shadows rule

The water laps, the pine trees sway

The air grows cool when the skies are gray

When the thunder rolls, the lightning splits

The animals hide, and the downpour hits

The campers run as the weather controls

The lightning splits when the thunder rolls

On our journey here, the storms will come

We’ll want to hide, we’ll want to run

But in our God, we have no fear

The storms will come on our journey here

76/100 choka

 

Wonders

Huge hot-air balloons

Capturing our attention

Bright colors floating in peace

No longer earth bound

What wonders humans can do

Ah, yes, but look at the clouds!

75/100 days of summer Skeletons in the Closet

Past Secrets

 

Perfectly hidden,

percolating under the surface,

poisonous like cancer,

piranha-like eating away spirit, not flesh,

persistent, until one day, their existence is

proved, diagnosed.

Persuaded, you face reality.

Pushing through it.

Persevering, you survive.

Powerfully thrive. Or

perhaps you don’t. But
perchance you don’t,

positively your loved ones know, you

passionately did the best you could.

74/100 days of summer Poetic Bloomings prompt death

Poetic Bloomings Prompt Death

Immunization and Cure

I suppose I became somewhat immune to death as a child.

Dad was a hunter

Dead animals everywhere

Their deaths helped us live

My grandmother on my mother’s side was the first to go. I was only five. Mom would take me down to her house and I would play in my world while Grandma was in the adult world. Pappap and Mom must have worked hard taking care of her, but it was all in my peripheral. When she died I just thought that’s what old people do. It was a part of life to me, like dead fish in the frig.

My red boots dangled

When Dad lifted me to see

Grandma’s still, white face

In my teen years my grandfather on my dad’s side and my mom’s sister passed away. It was odd that the first time I saw my Dad cry was when my aunt died. I wasn’t all that sure he even liked her since Dad criticized a lot. That’s when death first touched my feelings, not because of my loss, but because it made my Dad cry.

When my Aunt Marg died

Dad sat hunched over and sobbed

I stared in wonder

When I was a young adult, death’s painful emotions caught up with me for the first time, when my friend’s baby died. We had prayed for little Bethany when she was born with a defective heart. She only lived a few weeks. Her parents’ grief saturated the air making it difficult to breathe.

Baby doll in lace

Sorrow and grief sting and claw

We live on, with scars

They say the care-giving spouse goes first, which was the case with my mom and dad. Alzheimer’s rendered Dad unaware when Mom died. He died two months later. I gain comfort knowing that neither one of them had to grieve each other’s death. I often picture Dad spying Mom at heaven’s gates and exclaiming, “What are you doing here?” My four sisters and I painfully plowed through each first holiday without them.

Without Mom and Dad

Mother’s Day and Father’s Day

Celebrate with tears

And now death has touched my generation. On a demolition job, tons of steel and concrete fell on my brother-in-law. Our last family reunion included a memorial.

Husband died, sis crushed

Said goodbyes through coffin lid

Full reunion waits

I am not immune to death. I feel it with all my senses. But I count on Christ, the one who rose from the dead, to be the cure. His death helps me live.

73/100 days of summer Knock Out

Knock Out
 

K nock out gorgeous

N ot shy, audaciously flirting

O ranges, golds, greens

C olorado fall, seductive and sexy

K nock out gorgeous
 

O penly, unabashedly daring

U nder a bright blue sky, alluring

T imbered mountains, dressed to kill