Siren of Shooting Stars

dear friends,
it’s been a long week and a longer winter.
i began daydreaming about the warm weather
and the annual vacation we take each August.
we rent a 5 bedroom houseboat on Holly Lake
in Tennessee and find our favorite cove and
tie up for 10 ten days.

this is a repost, i edited the form. it was written
in one sitting at 3am as i sat as i always do, on the
top deck while family and friends were asleep. this song
was playing in my headphones and this poem was inspired by
the incredible shower of shooting stars that crossed the sky.

please play the song and begin reading…ty and i hope you enjoy.

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

when

the

S u n

is

busy

elsewhere…..

.
.

and

the

night

descends

upon

your

world…

.
.

in

your

S i l e n c e…

.
.

in

the

S e r e n i t y

of

forgiving

S o l i t u d e…

.
.

cast

away

the

fear,
.
.

just

S u r r e n d e r

your

heart

.
.

and

.
.

L i s t e n.

.
.

beg

your

eyes

to

open,

.
.

to

gaze

so

high

above

the

low

horizon.

.
.

there…

beyond

any

doubt

.
.

behind

the

shadow

of

constant

cloud,

.
.

S h e

can

be

seen

each

night

cajoling

every

S t a r

in

your

S k y.

.
.

B e l i e v e,

.
.

embrace

your

F a i t h.

.
.

S h e

is

O m n i p r e s e n t,

.
.

S h e

is

E v e r l a s t i n g.

.
.

S h e

is

a

daughter

of

the

U n i v e r s e,

.
.

a

S i r e n

of

S h o o t i n g

S t a r s.

.
.

her

voice

a

chorus,

.
.

a

H a r m o n y

of

every

melody

devoted

to

.
.

L o v e.

.
.

her

history

our

yearning,

.
.

the

sum

of

our

forgotten

M e m o r y.

.
.

her

shape,

a

C o s m i c

swirling

of

I n f i n i t e

density.

.
.

S h e

talks

to

S t a r s,

.
.

in

the

U n i v e r s a l

language

of

L o v e,

of

.
.

R e a s s u r a n c e.

.
.

a

S i r e n

offering

C o u r a g e

to

erase

their

fear.

.
.

‘my bashful star,
.
.
ready yourself for the voyage.

.
.

T i m e

is

N o w.’

.
.

‘oh, lovely star
.
.
hear my song,
.
.
my Melody of Love as you fly’

.
.

‘go little star!

.
blaze a trail
.
.
across the midnight sky’

.
.

and

become

N o w,
.
.
what you were always meant to Be.’
.
.
and show this world
.
.
P e r f e c t i o n,
.
.
in your moment of
.
.
E t e r n i t y.’

.
.

night water stillness…Haiku

.

the best time of day,

when I’m really awake is

when i hear the rest

.
.

of the world asleep.

and here on this lake tonight,

trees along this cove

.
.

are deep in their dreams.

the leaves whispered their good night’s

and vowed to rustle

.
.

again tomorrow,

when the lake breeze comes ashore.

do fish ever sleep?

.
.

i don’t hear them now

in this three a. m. quiet…

splashing the surface

.
.

filling their bellies

with bugs skimming the water.

they’ll be awake soon…

.
.

but at this moment

when the only sound I hear

are these words i write,

.
.

i count my blessings

and thank the universe for

night water stillness.

.
.
.
tomatoes, holly creek 007.

repost Friday…..August is Waiting

dear friends, this is the 2nd posting on this blog on March 23rd,
and a fair warning, there is a fair amount of prose ahead
.
.

tomatoes, holly creek 009

I’ve been watching mornings silently unfold on this lake and over these hills snuggy against the four a.m. chill in my faded yellow, Dale Hollow hoody, perched under the rooftop canopy of a 60 foot houseboat in our favorite cove, tied to the same worn, barkless trees for twelve years.

Even as nothing really changes here and as familiar as it always was, like a favorite childhood memory, this view never gets old. The huge expanse of water and trees and open sky is so absolutely still, it takes waking to a few of these silent mornings to be truly comfortable with what quiet really is.  

I pine the entire year for those moments, alone; being a very early riser has it’s benefits.

tomatoes, holly creek 005

The only sound is the occasional sipping of that first and always best tasting morning cup of coffee, brewed in a dented, blue and white speckled enamel, campstyle percolator pot. That old coffee pot has been stared at anxiously for the blup, blup, blup of coffee to bubble up in the little glass dome for decades. Woefully small considering the number of empty cups that need filling when everyone finally wakes up, not surprisingly, not a single one of us would ever suggest buying a new one.  

No, we all like things just the way they are….and just the way they’ve always been.

My wife has been accompanying her parents, her brother and invited friends on this trip every summer since she can remember and she just turned fifty this year. No, we’re not exactly roughing it but there’s certainly nothing fancy about the accomodations on these old houseboats that were built sometime in the ’70’s.

It’s…well, let’s just call it close knit family style cozy.

Five small bedrooms, a bare bones, corner kitchen, dining table for 8 connected to an open living room, a bathroom with a tiny shower, a small t.v. with a dvd player and all the entertainment, food and drinks you’ve remembered to pack.

tomatoes, holly creek 030

Planning is paramount; there are no grocery stores, no towns actually for miles, no cellphone or internet service either, only the C.B. marine radio to the Dale Hollow harbor where we rent the boat, connects us to civilization.

thCALQCNQL

We are in one of thousands of inlets and
coves of natural, steeply sloped,
shoreline that contains 27,000
acres of water, surrounded
by 24,000 square miles of
mostly untouched,
undeveloped land.

thCACSS63O

from WIKI: Dale Hollow Reservior  
Dale, or Lily Dale, no longer
exists. The community was one of
those flooded to create Dale Hollow
Lake, yet its name endures in the
choice of the lake’s name.

thCA63MCQC

Dale Hollow Dam and Lake was authorized by the Flood Control Act of 1938 and the River and Harbor Act of 1946. The project was completed by the United States Army Corps of Engineers in 1943, making the lake the oldest artificial lake in Kentucky.[1] Hydroelectric power generating units were added in 1948, 1949 and 1953. The project was designed by the Corps of Engineers and built under their supervision by private contractors. The hydroelectric generators of Dale Hollow Dam are used to supply power to the surrounding countryside. The dam, powerplant and reservoir are currently operated by the Nashville District of the Corps.

tomatoes, holly creek 013

This isn’t everyone’s ideal vacation but I was hooked, lined and sinkered the very first time I was invited. I fit in immediately. It helped that I knew how to waterski because we always rent a small powerboat and a giant rubber tube too. If you’re a waterskier like most of us, there isn’t a sight more beautiful than still water.

Water still as ‘glass’ is why this is
the cove we return to, year after year.

thCANA9YLD

It’s a good half hour from one of the many choppy,
well traveled thoroughfares that connect
the larger lakes,by midday choppy is
perfect for a bumpy tube ride.

thCAQMBE4O

We explore, we hike, we spot wildlife, we float around, we read and write, play games, sing songs and play guitar, sunbathe and at sundown everyone joins in to cook dinner then watch a movie or two before retiring, usually before midnight.

March is the month I always find myself daydreaming of Holly
Creek. I imagine it all again and again on these cruel cold days, feel the warm clean air on my skin, hear the clear water gently slapping the sides of the houseboat, taste the quiet 4am coffee and remember the good natured small talk and giggles with my family. I love knowing these 10 days are already crossed off the work calendar.

It’s important having something to look forward to.

August is waiting, it always is.

thCAKAXIY1
.
.
.
and is it just me, or has this summer just flown by….?

because August is here and it is time for our trip. Cbear, Scout and i leave tomorrow morning for 10 gloriuos days on the lake, the houseboat and on our annual vacation we so look forward to, every year.

a few things have changed since i wrote this 2 years ago, we are all a little older and it’s time to celebrate a milestone: Scout’s dad turns 80 and her mom 77, during this trip. and by the grace of the Goddess, i hope i am, we all are as healthy and active as they are, when we reach that age.

we are renting a larger, more modern houseboat too. age finally caught up with the old ones, giving us too much trouble last year and there are more bedrooms and facilities, for the many people that will be visiting this trip. musician friends will be arriving in shifts, and they are rehearsing favorite songs that will be performed for the birthday celebrations.

cell towers were installed last year, so we are connected: maybe both a blessing and a curse because there is still this part of me that longs to just unconnect from the world for awhile. i will be writing of course but not posting, and the connection will allow me to continue reading all your inspiring poetry, so a blessing there.

we come home on the 19th of July and i’ll resume my normal 3 times a week posting of this poetry of mine. and maybe i’m becoming a little more comfortable in this new habit, spending nearly every waking hour thinking, reading or writing this poetry but i will never forget why i can do this now…this thing i love so much, this second skin i’ve grown, this new way these eyes see the world and writing these words i didn’t even know i had.

between my original family at 20 Lines, my new friends at d’verse poets pub, and all of you new friends and old, there is a circle of inspiration among us. i feel it when i read your poetry, see it in your wonderful comments and encouragemnet and i think all of us, deserve a thank you for all the gifts we are giving each other.

what an incredible community this is at WordPress…yes, connectivity, a blessing that i can remain conncted to all of you, who have done so much for me. i won’t tell you how many poets i follow now, that the list on my sidebar is only partial, that some days i can keep up and read all your new posts and some days i fall behind. know that i’ll get there, i might be late a little late but i’ll get there.

and that goes as well for my many new friends, who i so appreciate. it is my habit to acknowledge your follow, get to know you through your work, say hi….i might be a little late but i should get caught up very soon.

thank you all so very much for all the love and encouragement you have given me, know it will never be taken for granted and that i will always remember, why, i’m writing this poetry of mine…because of all of you.

thank you all so very much.

angel of words

for my new friends
at Poets Pub, for
d’verse Open Link Night

.
.
.
.
.
145401563_oil-painting-portrait-flying-angels-follow-me-24x36-
.
.
.
.
.my Angel of Words
.
.
.
.
you will find no fight in these fingers
.

they are slaves to your gentle insistence
.

find a willingness in this empty pen
.

fill it with nuance and inspiration
.
.
.
.
oh, Angel of Words
.
.
.
cover me, in your earnest shroud
.

cloak me, with your vocabulary
.

help me hear the meter, divine the rhyme
.

take me on a journey above the constant clouds
.
.
.
.
………………………………………climb
.
.
.
.
…………………climb
.
.
.
.
climb with me into a clean
.

and ever clear sky
.

quiet this busy
.

mind, erase
.

horizons
.

as we
.

glide
.
.
.
.
……..glide
.
.
.

………………glide
.
.
.
.
……………………softly into the
.

………………………cradle of pure creativity,
.

……………………only you can open these two eyes
.

………………..when they believe there is nothing to see
.
.
.
.
…………………………………………………..fly
.
.
.
.
…………………………..fly
.
.
.
.
…….fly
.
.
.
.
with me over these uncharted landscapes
.

……..steel my spine, help heal these tragic memories
.

……………fill this fragile heart with bravery
.

…………………..to face my unknowns and life’s every mystery.
.
.
.
.

this song is an integral part of this poem, not the
tempo as usual but the mood it creates::::enjoy::::
.

::::h u m::::

tumblr_mg8gjkNPRV1qg39ewo1_500

maybe
i should
consider

success

or

failure

but
something
about

expectation

a sure
toxin
of

c r e a t i v i t y,

a fog
blurring
my t r u t h.

and here n o w,
in its forgiving
s o l i t u d e

exhuming

examining

expelling

expressing

w o r d s

my every
scattering
detail

a l i g n i n g,

p o e t r y
breathing
her steady

::::h u m::::

..beat

…..tempo

…………rythym

………………….harmony

…………………………u n i v e r s e

tumblr_mg8h3nFXpx1qg39ewo1_500
.
.
.

fawn

whatever you fear, whatever you hide,
whatever you carry deep inside
there’s something more than this
October Project

thCAL9B9PJ

on that late lit afternoon amidst the blaring horns sirens rolling steel and rubber of every constant rush hour this city only knows, he saw her now sitting folded into the corner of a familiar doorway the burgundy shroud resting deep into her knees that impossible smallness an almost prayer like silent plea her meditation wishing this world would disappear from view. and as he always did walking his young golden retriever Scout a dog so serene he’d never heard him make a single sound, the closer to this little person in a doorway by itself the bustling street echos ending another ambivalent big city day, and his concern alarm now heightened wondering why this any child was left so alone, his scan for parents but found none.

closer now and details unfold black ballet slippers to black anklet socks delicately edged tiny white lace frill slim cranberry pants, then that ankle bracelet! …. it’s chain spun so finely crafted not by our any human hands sun speaking to each tiny charm glistening. …and hesitant now not ever wanting to intrude, Scout answered his questions a gentle nose nudging her knee as all good dogs will,

‘oh im so sorry, he has to say hello to everyone’,

and the slowest of motions the shroud lifted its head as if in a slumber waking finally eyes to eyes nose to Scout’s nose her hands instinctively moving involuntarily they found his golden jowls, standing motionless accepting her slow fingers moving a golden fur caress, the shroud so deep he could not yet see her face. and in a ‘time will forever stand still moment’ forever be etched in his memory, the burgundy shroud slowly lifted falling back revealing her pale skin colored paler by the blazing embers of the extinguishing afternoon sun this deliberate ray reaching her darkened corner of the doorway,

his concern its own slow fade seeing her narrow face she was no child after all, and in human years twenty something but as in the swift glint of brown in her so grateful eyes raising to meet the sun… a whiteness then the infinity white of everything all knowing and all our kindness in every universe that ever lived, hers a timeless and slow smile reply,

‘yes…he does.’

he stood there letting this moment live as long as she wanted Scout turned to leave he followed and as so many of us his slow walk away was followed in doubt, a disbelief that this was not just a dream awake so double quickstepping around the block with Scout trailing. maybe to relive a moment that should not require repeating …….maybe to speak another word that didn’t need speaking, arriving as the sun had already fallen behind every building in its way the doorway now darkened and she was gone.

whatever you love, whatever you give,
whatever you think you need to live
there’s something more than this
.
.
.

c u r r e n t

thCATFL0QD

i

walk

these

city streets
leaving

a

q u i e t

reply

in this
discordant
cavernous

world

…..and

……floating

….smooth

…in

my

c u r r e n t

hushed

scribbling

scattered

seed

here
and
there

m u s i c

at my

ear

sowing

d r e a m ing

hoping

an

echo

m e m o r y

return

of

b e a u t y

might

will

r e m a i n

r e m e m b e r

r e s i d e

where
there
was
none
.
.
.