poetry, writing

Voice

A voice stands out

Among all the rest.

The cacophony fades away.

Your voice, your voice…

there is something familiar

in your voice.

I listen with intent,

seeking for hidden messages.

Is it your voice I hear?

Speak softly in my ear,

draw me in closer,

Share with me your world.

Reveal,

is it you I hear?


poetry, writing

Home

When I’m home, finally home,

I will install those curved glass shelves,

the shelves I opened that tragic Christmas,

Just weeks after Dad passed away.

He bought them for me when I found home.

I’m not there yet, all these years later.

When I’m home, finally home,

I will hang that glass art I bought,

The Frank Lloyd Wright inspired piece,

The one that reminds me of home.

I’m not there yet, it doesn’t belong here.

When I’m home, finally home,

I will smile with delight, spin in the halls,

and breathe in fresh air from outside.

I will see the seasons change and feel love.

I’m not there yet, but one day I will.

poetry, writing

Will You?

Will you open your book to me,

Read to me every word of every page?

Will you tell me your stories,

Your triumphs and your tragedies?

Will you share with me your thoughts,

Your biases, peeves, and beliefs?

Will you show me your scars,

So I may kiss away any remaining pain?

Will you reveal your emotions,

Letting me catch your tears,

And wipe away the trails they leave?

And revel in your smile

As you share your joys too?

Will you let me in one day,

Show me all you have to reveal?

I truly hope you do.


poetry, writing

Anissa

Inspired by a writing prompt from Lady Jabberwocky.


She was cute and sweet,

Always ready to run and play.

Never one to lay at my feet,

But Anissa knew how to stay.

Her coat was pure white

Unusual for a husky I’d say.

And goodness, was she ever so bright,

And beautiful in every way.

I never thought I was a dog person,

Until I had to give her away.

I love animals, I am certain,

I think of her to this very day.

writing

Taxi!

Steve flipped his wrist impatiently, checking the time. The taxi he ordered was late, and the plane was not going to wait. He looked at the stream of traffic going down Roosevelt.

He tapped his foot nervously as the taxi pulled up. A short stocky man rolled down the window. “Mr. Rainey, sorry for the delay.” Sam saw the bags and popped the trunk, then hobbled out of the car and over to put in John’s bags. Sam wiped his brow, “It’s a hot one today, ain’t it?” Sam smiled, hoping for a small relief from Steve’s stern face.

Steve drew in a sharp breath, then relaxed and smiled. Sam reminded him a little of his own father, hard working, and eager to make another’s day better. “It sure is! I’m ready to be back home in the mountains where it is cooler.” Steve helped with his last bag, then they both climbed back in the taxi.

“O’Hare or Midway, Mr. Rainey?” Sam inquired.

“O’Hare.”

“Very good. We will be there in no time.” Sam smiled back in the mirror. “So, the mountains you say. Where abouts?”

Steve grinned just thinking of home and his face lit up. “It’s a little town at the base of the Rockies. Our house is out on a lot behind a field of wildflowers and next to a quiet stream.”

“Ours you say? Sounds lovely!” Sam chuckled. He loved when people said that.

Steve laughed, “I mean me and my sweetheart. We just moved there a few months ago.”

Sam continued driving, weaving through the traffic on the Dan Ryan with ease. “We should be to O’Hare in 10 minutes, Mr. Rainey.”

“Great, and you may call me Steve.” He flashed his charming smile while glancing at his watch. He realized he was going to have plenty of time and his stress disappeared. “I am on United by the way.”

“Great! So the missus is waiting at home? What brought you out to the Windy City?” Sam loved to hear why people came to this town.

Steve flinched a bit, and stuttered, “We’re not married just yet,” he paused. Then he continued, “I hope to change that however now. Just worked out a book deal and the advance will cover the ring.”

Sam chuckled, “Son, if she really loves you, the ring won’t really matter. Keep that in mind. It needs to be nice, but not extravagant. It’s the love that matters.”

Steve looked down and fiddled with something in his hand. “You think so? I already had a ring, but she deserves so much more.”

Sam pulled the taxi to a stop. They had arrived at the airport. “I will help you with your bags,” and with that, Sam jumped out of the taxi and readily pulled out Steve’s bags.

Steve walked up to Sam. “Thanks for getting me here so quickly.” Steve fiddled with a small, aged ring box.

Sam saw it. “May I see?”

Steve was a little shy about the ring, but opened the box. A simple ring sat in the box. “I bought it years ago. It was for her then, but it took us a lifetime to find each other again.” Steve looked up and Sam had a tear in his eye.

“You tell her that and ask with this ring. It would mean more than you realize.” Sam’s eyes locked with Steve’s.

Steve grinned and nodded. “Thanks Sam…I think I will.” He turned and headed into O’Hare, with a lightness in his step.

writing

The Hat

He knocked on her door. He promised her a night out on the town, dinner and a concert, and he was on time.

He smoothed his short hair, straightened his shirt, and tried to figure out where to place his hands. In his pockets, dangling loose, maybe looped through his belt loops. 

She looked out the peephole and watched him fidget. She smiled. He was cute when he was nervous, but, really, he had no reason to be. She straightened her hair and opened the door, showing him a big grin.

That grin made him smile, and forget his nervousness. She showed him in to her place.

“I just need a minute more. I’m almost ready,” she cooed as she walked down the hall.

He took note of what she was wearing as she walked back into her bedroom…jeans with a not quite sheer white blouse, leather belt, and her stockinged feet. Her makeup was done in a very natural way; he liked that about her. Nothing too showy, just soft and sweet.

When she re-emerged from her room, she had the finishing touches perfect for a country song, leather boots, simple earrings, a long necklace, and a burgundy and brown leather hat, straight from Wyoming. 

He almost didn’t want to take her out tonight. He was ready to stay right there and dance the night away in her living room, preferably naked, except that hat. But, he knew that wouldn’t do. 

“Ready,” she announced. She caught him in a half-stare; his mind obviously wandering. Her voice brought him back to the moment. 

He cleared his throat. “Great, let’s go.” He opened the door for her and they walked out. She locked up, and they were off to dinner.

Over dinner, they talked about themselves and had some time to get to know each other better. They shared stories about past concerts, college life, and the years after, just like old friends. 

He watched her throughout the meal. Her necklace hung down outlining her cleavage before disappearing under her blouse. The lace in her bra was just barely visible through her blouse when the light hit her just so. 

She was watching him too, although she tried to hide it. She noticed the little crinkles around his eyes when he laughed. They made him looked more mature. His smile was just a little crooked, making her bite her lower lip, knowing she wanted to kiss his lips.

They both could have headed back to either of their places right then and there after dinner, both were willing, but didn’t say anything to the other. He held her hand as they walked out of the restaurant. 

“Concert?” He questioned. They had great seats, but she looked at him with wanting in her eyes, but not for the concert. They stopped next to his car and she looked at him. In that moment, he knew. “Home?”

She reached up to him, and pulled him to her. Their lips met. He wrapped his arms around her and enjoyed the moment.

“Home,” he stated this time, and opened the door for her to get in. He rushed around to the driver’s side, slid in and started the car.

writing

Indispensable

The sound of her phone startled.

Vacation mode still in high gear.

No disturbances until the holiday is over,

She promised him. He stared her way.

She shut down the app on the phone.

Ignored the pings and texts.

He smiled and sighed some relief.

She needed this break more than she knew.

They’ll learn to survive without her,

Just two more days.

writing

Rafting

Swiftly waters stream by us,

The river floor visible below.

Round rocks line the bed,

Almost a clear view to the bottom.

Waves churn up, ripples abound,

Larger boulders appear below.

Jagged rocks line the shore,

The river twists and turns.

Waters turn white,

Larger swells appear ahead.

Ready, ready, hold on!

Continuing forward while getting splashed,

A rough rock appears from below.

Amazed, floating right over top,

Then surrounded by thousands of bubbles.

An underwater waterfall sits below us.

Peaceful waters returns as we continue.

The journey ends too soon.

Can we go again?


Took my first rafting trip this week, and it was phenomenal!

writing

Omar

We will need to get Omar the tent maker

To make your clothes. He teased.

It was the only cruel joke my father made.

But, it stung.

I look back at pictures from those times.

I wasn’t fat, but I never was skinny.

Not like my friends.

I didn’t over eat. I swam and biked

And even walked 2 miles home

from school most days.

I am so much heavier now,

And I hear that joke in my head

Every time I look in the mirror.

And I still walk. I eat half or less.

I wonder if Omar will take a special order.

poetry, writing

Mornings

The sun drifts up, illuminating the sky,

Revealing the golden treasure of the river below,

As a lone fisherman fly casts waist-high.

The forest smells of grass and pine fill the air,

The mountains in silhouette,

As the elk meander across the field.

Such are late summer mornings

in Yellowstone National Park.