Saturday, June 30, 2007
it's been a busy but productive saturday.
i made a memorial stone for my daughter's cat mika.
it is drying now. i think it turned out well.
concrete is an iffy thing. depending on the moisture in the air
and such it reminds me of bread making a little.
i'm not much of a measurer, in bread making or in concrete mixing.
i go by sight and feel.
this small batch of concrete mixed well and the tinting came out just
the shade of dark charcoal grey i was aiming for.
then i finished a first effort at a new poem and
submitted it to the list for c&c.(comment and critique)
now, i'm just hanging out here.
romeo and juliet
i thought this was silly fun and still can make you think a bit.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
hey froth. now i know this ratings thing is full of baloney.
i went from a pg to an r in one day because of a certain word that i
KNOW is not on my blog. tho it is on the pittsburgh women's blogging society that
i am a contributor on.
i do think my blog SHOULD be an R tho.
On behalf of President Bush, thank you for your correspondence.
We appreciate hearing your views and welcome your suggestions.
Due to the large volume of e-mail received, the White House cannot respond to every message.
Thank you again for taking the time to write.
ah, i'm hoping to collect enough of these to make a good sized collage.
i also have to say, the best most detailed responses to e-mails and petitions
from government types have come from spector and altmire and even 1 from t. murphy.
don't get me started on the few i received from hart and santorum before they went on to their
"life's work" to quote chuck knoll.
climbing up on my own little soapbox again:
just got a script for a new med. filled.
thank the fates i have some prescription insurance!!!
this medication(there's no generic for it)
is $118.00 dollars a month!
the other 2 i take are generic but as i said, i have insurance
and all i could think of was, what if i didn't and what about those that don't??
if this medication works (IF)
(and if i have no REALLY nasty side effects)
i will be taking it for quite some time.
this is supposed to be the richest and most compassionate
place on earth.
at least, that's the stuff they've been shoveling for the past
7 years or so.
what about the people that fall thru those cracks.
they say we are still down about 4 inches for the
time of year tho.
i was running around closing the windows at 3 a.m.
made it very humid but better than a soaked house.
at least i didn't bang myself up this time.
i have a nasty, nasty bruise on my knee from
whacking it hard on the corner of the night stand as i
climbed up on the bed to crank the window closed.
you might think that after all these years i'd be more
careful knowing how clumsy i can be.
you might think that
unless you knew me. ; )
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
It’s when you go to Liverpool
that poems never stop coming into your head
you try to say you don’t talk that way
and the words reply, “Yes you do
you’ve got the Liverpool blood in your veins.”
The Mersey when it surges forward
sweeping you away, carrying dreams to the sea
you’ve got the beat and it is in you
you can’t get away from it
then you remember your grandmother
how she came from Liverpool
all those years ago.
How you remember the Liver bird and the docks
the steamer that took you to the Isle of Man
you loved it, the waves crashing against the ship
going up and down and you sitting on the suitcase,
then the wobbly legs when you reached Douglas
the happiness as you clutched your mother’s hand
and you skipping along the prom in white sandals
sun bonnet and two front teeth missing.
Saying goodbye to the fairies on the fairy bridge
you thought you could see them in the hedgerow
waving to you before you went back
you wanted to sail on the big ship
listen to the shriek of the gulls
the wind blowing the ribbons in your hair
seeing land as if for the first time in your life
feeling the surge of the Mersey dragging you somewhere
to a place embedded in your genes, a place
The Liver Birds are two wondrous creatures, which should have been Cormorants, but the artist drawing them for the seal of the City didn't know what they looked like, so he made it up. Today two Liverbirds stand on the clock towers of the Liver Buildings on Liverpool's waterfront, keeping an eye on things. It is told , and believed by all, that it the Liverbirds ever fly off then Liverpool will be doomed.
A full history and some pictures at
i got this from jim. he explained what a "liver bird " was for me.
i love the story and chris sent the pictures he took of them. this is one.
thanks guys!!!! : )
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Monday, June 25, 2007
who is trying like anything to get a xxx rating on his blog. why, i haven't a clue.
Adult movies attempt to arouse
The . . . ah . . . interest of viewers who browse
Movie titles quite racy,
With babes dressed all lacy
Who moan lots of yeses and nows.
"An overgrown seagull" is one
Of the most indisputably fun
Combinations of words
For those albatross birds
Found in Coleridge's Rime, which I shun.
Originally inspired by Virge. Actually there was just one albatross in The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, but I'm sure others were lurking in the wings.
just got this e-mail from my uncle gabe.
it came right after my last posting.
to get my shit together in book form and try to get it published.
it's not that i don't have enough poems, or even an idea as to
titles and themes and such. it's not that i'm a lazy soul either.
i'm not quite sure what holds me back.
i'm not sure i want to know.
“Whatever course you decide upon, there is always someone to tell you that you are wrong. There are always difficulties arising which tempt you to believe that your critics are right. To map out a course of action and follow it to an end requires courage.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson
by Allen Ginsberg
I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and
sat down under the huge shade of a Southern
Pacific locomotive to look at the sunset over the
box house hills and cry.
Jack Kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron
pole, companion, we thought the same thoughts
of the soul, bleak and blue and sad-eyed, sur-
rounded by the gnarled steel roots of trees of
The oily water on the river mirrored the red sky, sun
sank on top of final Frisco peaks, no fish in that
stream, no hermit in those mounts, just our-
selves rheumy-eyed and hungover like old bums
on the riverbank, tired and wily.
Look at the Sunflower, he said, there was a dead gray
shadow against the sky, big as a man, sitting
dry on top of a pile of ancient sawdust--
--I rushed up enchanted--it was my first sunflower,
memories of Blake--my visions--Harlem
and Hells of the Eastern rivers, bridges clanking Joes
Greasy Sandwiches, dead baby carriages, black
treadless tires forgotten and unretreaded, the
poem of the riverbank, condoms & pots, steel
knives, nothing stainless, only the dank muck
and the razor-sharp artifacts passing into the
and the gray Sunflower poised against the sunset,
crackly bleak and dusty with the smut and smog
and smoke of olden locomotives in its eye--
corolla of bleary spikes pushed down and broken like
a battered crown, seeds fallen out of its face,
soon-to-be-toothless mouth of sunny air, sun-
rays obliterated on its hairy head like a dried
leaves stuck out like arms out of the stem, gestures
from the sawdust root, broke pieces of plaster
fallen out of the black twigs, a dead fly in its ear,
Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O
my soul, I loved you then!
The grime was no man's grime but death and human
all that dress of dust, that veil of darkened railroad
skin, that smog of cheek, that eyelid of black
mis'ry, that sooty hand or phallus or protuber-
ance of artificial worse-than-dirt--industrial--
modern--all that civilization spotting your
crazy golden crown--
and those blear thoughts of death and dusty loveless
eyes and ends and withered roots below, in the
home-pile of sand and sawdust, rubber dollar
bills, skin of machinery, the guts and innards
of the weeping coughing car, the empty lonely
tincans with their rusty tongues alack, what
more could I name, the smoked ashes of some
cock cigar, the cunts of wheelbarrows and the
milky breasts of cars, wornout asses out of chairs
& sphincters of dynamos--all these
entangled in your mummied roots--and you there
standing before me in the sunset, all your glory
in your form!
A perfect beauty of a sunflower! a perfect excellent
lovely sunflower existence! a sweet natural eye
to the new hip moon, woke up alive and excited
grasping in the sunset shadow sunrise golden
How many flies buzzed round you innocent of your
grime, while you cursed the heavens of the rail-
road and your flower soul?
Poor dead flower? when did you forget you were a
flower? when did you look at your skin and
decide you were an impotent dirty old locomo-
tive? the ghost of a locomotive? the specter and
shade of a once powerful mad American locomo-
You were never no locomotive, Sunflower, you were a
And you Locomotive, you are a locomotive, forget me
So I grabbed up the skeleton thick sunflower and stuck
it at my side like a scepter,
and deliver my sermon to my soul, and Jack's soul
too, and anyone who'll listen,
--We're not our skin of grime, we're not our dread
bleak dusty imageless locomotive, we're all
beautiful golden sunflowers inside, we're bles-
sed by our own seed & golden hairy naked ac-
complishment-bodies growing into mad black
formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our
eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive
riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sit-
well, we had the scholarship awards and luncheon
yesterday. everything went so well. all of the kids read
their essays. their families were there. pictures were taken and bob and bonnie made a fantastic meal for everyone AND there was cake(a biggie in my book!)
the essays were very good and the winners have wonderful plans
for the future.
there was 9 scholarships given out this year. the most we've ever had thanks
to the support of the club members and the ladies auxiliary that paid for and
gave out 3.
now, a bit of a rest until our 1st. planning meeting in august!
Sunday, June 24, 2007
|In 1952 (the year you were born)|
Harry Truman is president of the US
Elizabeth II becomes Queen of England after the death of her father, George VI
First explosion of a hydrogen device takes place at Eniwetok Atoll in the Pacific
Christine Jorgensen becomes the first medically and legally certified transsexual
US troops complete their pull-out from Japan
Dwight D. Eisenhower is elected President of the US
Sister Theresa becomes Mother Theresa and begins her charity work in Calcutta
Rick James, Douglas Adams, and Liam Neeson are born
New York Yankees win the World Series
Detroit Lions win the NFL championship
Detroit Red Wings win the Stanley Cup
Charlotte's Web by E.B. White is published
Saturday, June 23, 2007
they got her as a teeny kitten when they were first married,
about 10 and 1/2 years ago.
today they had to have her put down due to kidney failure.
mika was my 1st. "grandcat"
we will all miss her. it's part of being a pet owner but it is never easy.
i'd like to write
a really good poem
my fingernail chipped and the polish
isn't the quick dry type.
i just know
there's a really great poem in me
that will stun
it's almost lunch time
and the cats want fed and
tho the words are there
the time is not
and i could get to really
feeling sorry for myself, but
write a check
write your government
now i'll feed the cats.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Poets from around the world will meet for an evening of music and spoken word performances
supported by some of the best of our Merseyside poets
David Bateman - Jim Bennett - Graham Holland - Clair Kirwan - Dam Robinson
Between them they have - European improv slam champion 2007 , 2 Liverpool slam champions 2001 and 2007, 2 Wirral Ode show slam champions , three time DADAFest award winner, 2 time San Francisco Beat Festival winner, Frost Award Winner 2006, five Pushcart awards, Cork Slam Winner 2007, winner of the performance award at the Edinburgh Festival, lots of other prizes and awards, find out why on Monday 25th at the Third Room.
Poetry Kit poets from New Zealand, USA, France, and all parts of the UK.
Everyone welcome, free entry (donations welcome)
Third Room, Everyman Bistro, Liverpool
Monday 25th June 2007
POETRY KIT (www.poetrykit.org)
is the leading internet poetry portal with over 6 million unique visitors each year
this is my group. the one i talk about on here. now a list administrator of, latest featured poet of and, well you get the idea.
god, i wish i could be there, but those of us that can't will be there in spirit!
i know they all will have a grand time and more than a few toasts and poems for the ones that couldn't attend.
have a great time my friends!
Thursday, June 21, 2007
found my wedding dress at the back of the one closet.(front and back view here)
so, i looked at it, yellowed with age and dusty and decided to try to wash it, just to see what happened.it's over 35 years old!(geeezzz i'm older than dirt!)
well, it's cleaner,but it will never be white again.
anyway. it's clean. it's also a mini-dress. yes, THOSE were the days.
it's a 6, a bit big. my weight has gone up and down with the side effects of
the NF and meds or lack of.
a mini-dress! god, i'm still chuckling.
i'm saving it to show my little grand daughter one of these days. ; )
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
|You Are Basic Panties|
You are a laid back chick with a real natural beauty.
You can make unwashed hair and minimal make-up super sexy.
Men tend to notice you show the "real you" - and they appreciate it.
And while basic makes boring for some, it looks classic on you.
this blogthingy is for bluegal. i think she'll get a kick out of this one!
if i love You
if i love You
worlds inhabited by roamingly
stern bright faeries
if you love
me) distance is mind carefully
luminous with innumerable gnomes
Of complete dream
if we love each (shyly)
other, what clouds do or Silently
Flowers resembles beauty
less than our breathing
so i have no idea what it's about, but i wanted to share the song cause tim curry is
just too much, been a fan since rocky horror days plus i wanted a contrast to the warwicke version. i've never heard this song sung by a man, don't know why. it should be.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
"The practice of arbitrary imprisonments, [has] been in, in all ages, [one of] the favorite and most formidable instruments of tyranny."
Alexander Hamilton, Federalist Paper 84
There must be some fundamentally fair process to identify those who have been justly detained while protecting the rights of innocent people caught up in the conflict and confusion of war.
This is America—the government should not have the power to make people disappear into legal black holes with no way to prove their innocence. Representing the most basic check on governmental abuse of power, habeas gives all of us the guarantee that if we are detained, we have the right to challenge the legality of the detention. Habeas corpus prevents the government from abusing its power and imprisoning people for no reason.
I urge you to pass legislation to restore habeas corpus immediately!
i signed the petition at
people for the american way.
I feel despair
when I try
to think about the new schedule
Twenty four slots
Of 20 minutes
See three people
For 40 minutes
Twenty on the schedule
Pray for two no shows
Wake me Sunday morning
If I am called to a labor patient
Must I make up that clinic face time?
What of holidays?
The clinic is closed.
Night call is nowhere addressed
Will they hire more and more
Who don't take call
Until I am the last woman standing
Red rimmed eyes staring
Numb with fatigue
What of my nearly deaf patient
Who reads lips
May we take forty minutes?
All the fairly deaf elderly?
New parents, anxious
Questions pour out like
Coins from a jackpot win
What of the tearful brokenhearted
I shrink at the thought
Of crushing their hearts
Into twenty minutes
And what if I am sick?
(no paid leave)
If I cancel clinic
Do I make up those days
A quota of patient face days
I am in the factory
People are the shirts I must sew
The tons of coal I must load
I must meet a quota
Doctors die younger
Our life is measured out
I won't let the quota
Kill my love
got this at bluegal's.
it's a good poem and too true.
some of my fellow poets are having a get together and poetry event in liverpool
the one in the u.k. i wish i could be there. it looks to be an absolute ball!
dam has done a grand job of arranging the venue and drawing up the maps (there are poets going from all over)others that are around the area have offered their homes to people traveling in. philip even created a cd of some of the poets that will be there, some that won't. they are a grand group and dedicated to poetry ( and fun)
i will be thinking of them when they get together.
geeezzz another tah dah to me from me that i'm sharing.
been a busy week.
i was asked to join a group of bright and talented and
opinionated women on their blog (i think the opinionated part got me in, ha!)
i wrote an introduction to myself and i guess i'll go from there.
hope i don't screw up, but i'm giving it a go.
so please, give the blog a looksee and leave a comment or 2. o.k?
i think you'll find things that you'll agree with and maybe things you won't but it
is well worth being a regular stop.
Monday, June 18, 2007
hot and a thundershower surprise.
the sun denied
has blazed back with
a late afternoon last chance to
wilt flowers and flesh.
but somewhere near
there are brown eyes crinkling
and a warm mouth.
thrive in heat
some women glow
but honest, it's just sweat
Sunday, June 17, 2007
tah dah!!! the dancing with wild abandon in the street and feasting on chocolate will now begin!!!!
yes, it's little old me. i've been chosen as a featured poet
on the PK list, interview and the whole nine yards kiddies.
i'm just silly with the thought that i am.
i was nervous to answer questions put to me, but i think it came out well.
had to choose the poems as well. that was a tough one. i wasn't sure what to pick, how they might be received and all that.
i am a first class worrywart as my gramma used to tell me!
hope you have time to read this and please try to let me know what you think.
i do really value opinions and any comments, good or bad. thanks.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
this is a colored pencil drawing of my father.
i don't know who did it or when tho i think my father was not quite 21 when it was done.
odd to think he was younger than his granddaughter when this was drawn.
strange to think he's gone.
he said to me, "if i kick it, don't worry."
so, i won't.
happy father's day dad.
i know, that you will have one, wherever you may be.
and a happy father's day to all dads out there.
fathers are important.
it is something to think about.
just how important it is to try to be the best one you can.
a teeny rant about this golf open thingy,
i live across the allegheny from oakmont. it's
about a 10 minute drive away.
yes, i understand the prestige and the economics and all that jazz
but god, the traffic mess.
we have detours most times here in the pgh. area (as the saying goes"you can't get there from here." )BUT it has been hellish of late.
people are taking detours on unfamiliar roads and the accidents i have seen lately,
well, it's ridiculous.
last evening,my sister and i came upon one being cleared up. this was a nasty one. no fender bender here. SO
please, please PLEASE, if you are using roads unfamiliar to you, slow down, pay attention and turn off the freaking cell phones!
thank you, just my little contribution to the tiger woods hysteria. ; )
Friday, June 15, 2007
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Lost in the forest...
Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.
Something from far off it seemed
deep and secret to me, hidden by the earth,
a shout muffled by huge autumns,
by the moist half-open darkness of the leaves.
Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig
sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance
climbed up through my conscious mind
as if suddenly the roots I had left behind
cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood---
and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.
lightning and high winds and hail!
then the power went out.
was out for about 12 hours.
it came back on about 2:30 a.m. after 5 or 6 blinks which
turned on lights outside then out 5 or 6 times.
crews were wandering the streets. i felt bad for them but so glad the food wouldn't spoil in the fridge!
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
this is a little guy that lives in a half dead bush that the deer have
snacked on a little too often
needless to say, most of my family are NOT thrilled to have him there.
i tho, told them to just let him be.
i think he was thinking the same thing when i went out and snapped him using the flash.
pudd'n says the little fellow is harmless so i'll take his word on it, but if
he isn't, well pudd'n will have some "splain'n" to do! ; )
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Monday, June 11, 2007
i snapped this last sat. at the rural ridge grade school reunion.
the car club i belong to goes every year to hang out with the older folks that
attended that school.
it was empty for many years but has just been rehabbed into a new community center.
the people that have this little picnic every year are some of the nicest people i've ever met.
CHOCOLATE! ohhhh baby!
|You Are a Chocolate Cake|
Fun, comforting, and friendly.
You are a true classic, and while you're not super cutting edge, you're high quality.
People love your company - and have even been known to get addicted to you.
|You Are 90% Feminist|
You are a total feminist. This doesn't mean you're a man hater (in fact, you may be a man).
You just think that men and women should be treated equally. It's a simple idea but somehow complicated for the world to put into action.
i got this test over at shakesville.
i was a little bit surprised at my score, given my life.
but then again, maybe that's why i scored this.
Saturday, June 09, 2007
Friday, June 08, 2007
by Colleen Dwyer-Lulf
Hollyhock nodding against my grandmother's house
Brushed on screens surrounding the porch
Where I sometimes bunked on hot summer nights.
My uncle slept in the attic with sloping walls
That tilted toward ragged quilts
My grandmother made by hand.
I was ten and he was seventeen when he became my hero.
Not for something he had done, but just because he was so old
And wise in that way teenagers seem to children.
He did not push me aside as I watched
Him paint curly-top flames (fire so beautiful it hurt)
Arching from the front of his '52 Ford.
Then my vacation over, I went home and he to Nam.
There the North Dakota boy "Became a man"
Intertwined with jungle rot and steamy swamps
Like the hot, wet cloud that rose from his cup at a Saigon cafe
Amid the chatter of their foreign talk
And black lacquered dishes he sent home to Grandma.
He didn't tell her how the brains of one gook
Dried on his face like a gob of snot
Or of the warm pee that washed pants in the foxhole
Or the child who carried the exploding present
That threw bits of men to rooftops
Or the gnarled hand of one old woman who reached
From the mass of flesh that had been her family
To touch his dark, wet boot
When he entered the sloping walls of her bullet-riddled hut.
Instead, when he came home, he polished his car
'Till it mirrored the tossing trees above, clouds, birds,
And his own black eyes behind the patterned flames
The pastor entered his donkey in a race and it won.
The pastor was so pleased with the donkey that he enter ed it in the
race again, and it won again.
The local paper read:
PASTOR'S ASS OUT FRONT.
The Bishop was so upset with this kind of publicity that he ordered
the pastor not to enter the donkey in another race.
The next day, the local paper headline read:
This was too much for the bishop, so he ordered the pastor to get
rid of the donkey.
&nbs p; The pastor decided to give it to a nun in a nearby convent.
The local paper, hearing of the news, posted the following headline
the next day:
NUN HAS BEST ASS IN TOWN.
The bishop fainted.
H e informed the nun that she would have to get rid of the donkey, so
she sold it to a farmer for $10.
The next day the paper read:
NUN SELLS ASS FOR $10.
This was too much for the bishop, so he ordered the nun to buy back
the donkey and lead it to the plains where it could run wild.
The next day the headlines read:
NUN ANNOUNCES HER ASS IS WILD AND FREE.
The bishop was buried the next day.
The moral of the story is . . being concerned about public opinion
can bring you much grief and misery .. .
even shorten your life.
So be yourself and enjoy life.
Stop worrying about everyone else's ass and you'll be a lot happier
and live longer!
Have a nice day!
Mr. Bear and Mr. Rabbit
Mr. Bear and Mr. Rabbit lived in the same forest, but they didn't like each other very much. One day, while walking through the woods, and they came across a golden frog. They were amazed when the frog talked to them. The golden frog admitted that he didn't often meet anyone, but, when he did, he always gave them six wishes, so he told them that they could have three wishes each.
Mr. Bear immediately wished that all the other bears in the forest were females. The frog granted his wish. Mr. Rabbit, after thinking for a while, wished for a crash helmet. One appeared immediately, and he placed it on his head.
Mr. Bear was amazed at Mr. Rabbit's wish, but carried on with his second wish. He wished that all the bears in the neighboring forests were females as well, and the frog granted his wish. Mr. Rabbit then wished for a motorcycle. It appeared before him, and he climbed on board and started revving the engine.
Mr. Bear could not believe it and complained that Mr. Rabbit had wasted two wishes that he could have had for himself. Shaking his head, Mr. Bear made his final wish, that all the other bears in the world were females as well, leaving him as the only male bear in the world. The frog replied that it had been done, and they both turned to Mr. Rabbit for his last wish.
Mr. Rabbit revved the engine, thought for a second, then said, “I wish that Mr. Bear was gay!” and rode off as fast as he could.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Monday, June 04, 2007
Sunday, June 03, 2007
Saturday, June 02, 2007
another HOT day, storms promised later.
planted flowers at the cemetery yesterday.
my mom was in a dither cause with my father being
ill and then passing, we didn't have the time or
the energy to do the graves for memorial day.
i told her that i doubted if my gram and pop pop
and my nunnu( my gram's dad, antonio )and the rest of them would mind
but it's been a yearly ritual and mom was worried.
so, in 86 degree heat we fixed them up, planted flowers and
then i planted flowers here. figured that i was already
sweaty and dirty, why not??
so hopefully the rain later will help them grow.
mom feels better.
so do i.
tho i will be cremated. i don't want anyone to have
to go plant a flower on ME!
i'm gonna be blow'n in the wind!