As Luck Would Have Us

Our group wrote about “luck” this month.

Something borrowed

Something blue.

One. . . a kiss for luck

Two, . . .a  jump over sidewalk cracks

Three. . . promises of

Forever love,

Weaving four leaf clovers

In the bridal bouquet.

Lucky me . . . Lucky you

fated for

Divine intervention’s

spark of energy:

igniting our chemistry

To take,

Create,

Build

then blend years of

Daily forging through

together.

Forming a circle of family,

tenderly bridging our

differences with deep breaths

and counting by sevens.

Lucky us

Growing a love that welcomes

new adventures, while

nurturing young hearts and minds:

our children and theirs.

Then, lucky us . . . comes

beautiful baby Ben born on 7/11.

Lucky in love we chose

The work of heartfelt communication

always stretching for better

while knocking on wood.

Appreciating – never tempting the fates-

Through challenges and losses

Together warding off thirteens,

never walking under ladders,

or opening umbrellas in the house,

Always remembering to cherish divine grace

–order in the chaos—

All Is Well.

Lucky us! We bow in thanks

While crossing our fingers, then knocking on wood

Times seven!

Debra Grantz Wolf

From This Day

Written for a friend’s marriage (a second chance at love!) and in honor of Valentine’s Day.

From This Day

 

Beginning a new

Life together,

To have and to hold,

Sunrise to moonrise

Then more:

Blossoming,

Blessing,

Cherishing.

Each Day

of growing and knowing

What only lovers know:

The secret of staying in love

is a dance of 

giving,

forgiving,

Embracing All,

Every moment with every breath.

Love Never Knocks

In celebration Of Valentines Day,  here is my poem about love.  May all star struck  lovers join together, on this and every day, to share the love in their hearts!

 

 

 

 

Love can be hard when it wants to, sometimes it is a job.

It can demand your attention and soak up all your golden energy.

It can hurt you and leave you stranded, sometimes it forsakes you.

Love can have its own agenda and will leave you in the dark to wonder.

 

Love makes no excuses for what it is.  It opens to all possibilities.

It will bathe you in pixie dust and blind you with brilliance at times.

It can confuse you and delight you, or bring you to your knees.

Love can conquer your soul and leave you hollow like a drum.

 

Love compromises your heart; again and again it has another face.

It moves in and out of your life like the wind in the trees, light and free.

It sometimes stays and you snuggle into it like a warm soft bed, secure and safe.

Love has a power unlike any other; it molds and shapes you into what it wants.

 

It is all these things and more.  Love heals and forgives with splendor.

It will open your spirit to joy, and surprise you in a million ways

 

Love never knocks; it just opens the door and comes in.

 

Kathy Holmes-Branton

 

 

 

Memories

Our writing group prompt for January is some variation on “memory”, and our members each had her own unique perspective. Here’s mine:

 

Memories

 

Like a houseful of gifts, wrapped

Waiting to be seen for this first time again:

Joy and fear peeking in

to review past treasures of places and faces,

Loves nurtured and unrequited,

learning places and cherished moments.

Memories wrapped in unknowable mystery

until time’s journey readies with wisdom

to remember and embrace,

forgive then forget, what is no longer useful.

 

Memories, in presence to re-view,

then release necessary losses.

Memories to delight and embrace today in gratitude,

Then, let go again.

Memories of past to light up

overlooked or forgotten kindnesses;

Replenished to reflect again then comfort old wounds

with grace and compassion that could not forgive

and heal til time’s passage

paints with new and different hues.

 

In black and white, then colors,

Memories treasured and stored

in scrapbooks of tattered old newspaper clippings,

reporting family birth and death announcements,

love letters, thank you notes,

photos capturing smiles of joy,

Seducing us with unsuspecting youthful hopes,

while recording time’s unrelenting march.

 

Memories reopening and spotlighting jeweled moments,

from babies’ first steps and stumbles

through magical love excursions,

to dance on to wedding bliss.

Memories’ kaliedescope

recalling

gathering

every piece to cherish,

living each new moment of this tapestry

within the heart of memories’ home.

 

Debra G. Wolf

Settling

 

 

A bird comes to rest on a bough, settling after a long flight.

It may not be the strongest bough or provide the most shelter,

but it gives her enough time to steady her beating heart,

to catch her tiny breath and ready herself for the next crossing.

 

She watches diligently the other boughs, waiting for another weary

traveler to perch beside her for reprieve, another traveler like her on

the way somewhere unknown to them.  After all, they are birds and

follow an inner voice.  Do you listen to the one inside yourself?

 

What does you voice say to your heart? Are you resting until your next pilgrimage?

Are you settling here on this bough that isn’t quite the right fit because

the one you really want is too far away, or too dangerous, or simply a dream

that seems impossible to imagine coming true?

 

The tiny bird twitters and sings a melodious warble to the iridescent moon

glowing over the trees.  As if the sun, it illuminates all the woods around her,

all the choices she has urge her to move forward, but she can see only shadows in

the trees.  At times a silhouette is enough.

 

 

KHB

2017

Destination

Our prompt this month was dreams, or any interpretation of such…dreaming , daydreams, dreamy….we all took it where we individually wanted to go.  Here is my “take” on dreams….

 

 

 

 

 

Destination

 

The destination of dreams, unexplained and gliding,

in-between the end of a day and the beginning of another.

 

Slumber, rolling into the stillness of sleep

on soft cat feet, warm and quiet.

 

Sinking deeper with each breath, surrendering with no boundaries,

surrounded by imagination seeking light…desire.

 

Fervid heaviness and the sensation of breath on the neck,

ragged, impatient, and anticipating…heat.

 

Spellbound and spinning in a whirl of infinity,

waking on a windswept plateau of silence…yearning.

 

A vision unfinished, left to linger in the fog of morning,

playing again and again to veiled eyes…searching.

 

Dreams destination, a collage of possibilities before you, dark and beautiful,

live in-between the end of a day and the beginning of another.

 

KHB

Kathy Branton

2017

 

 

 

Hurricane

Our October prompt was “fall”, and along the Gulf Coast, that is almost synonymous with hurricanes since our hurricane season really gets going in September-October. This year (2017) the USA experienced three bad ones: Harvey, Irma, and Maria. This poem is about hurricanes.

 

Hurricane

 

Sky, green-grey, rows and rows of silent clouds in every direction.

Wind, short bursts that rattle leaves, pushing against my body.

Heat, moist, heavy with anticipation.

Rain, carried by the wind, here, and then gone again.

 

Rain moves in from the southeast with increasing urgency.

Sky to the west is dark and menacing.

Wind picks up speed, shoving everything ahead of it while

Heat weighs me, and everything else, down.

 

Heat is secondary to the humid, sticky air.

Rain falls in longer intervals.

Sky is a mass of fast-moving clouds above me, and

Wind begins to whistle as it slices through the trees.

 

Wind swirls the clouds into angry piles of grey.

Heat is forgotten in the wild movement of

Rain that is pounding the plants back into the soil.

Sky offers me no consolation with its silent, moving clouds.

 

It has arrived.

 

Carol Hemmye

October River

Warm sun, not enough to burn or break a sweat.

Cool water lapping at the kayak, paddle splashing my legs and feet.

I let the strong current carry me along as I watch the crimson and yellowing leaves

fall silently into the water.

 

Birds twitter in the trees, some shout warnings to the others

hidden in the branches, a language of warbling and cheeps.

I guide myself in the stream soundlessly, only steering, so as not to

worry the small fluttering creatures watching my movements.

 

So quiet, the only sound is the wind.  Sometimes whispering, sometimes yielding

a roar, it moves itself through the brush.

So quiet, my breath goes deep in my belly and speaks in its own voice.

It moves through my body.  It invites me to listen.

 

Days are cooling, nights as well.

The river, swift and free, pushes me onward to a promise of an evening fire

on the sandbar.  A perfect blend of orange and red, the dancing flames reach

for the starry sky and warm me as the night chills.

 

Flowing peace…..October River.

Kathy Branton

Dale Hollow Lake, July

Dappled sun across the lake.
Hot breeze, cool water.
Cicadas singing their hearts in
a thousand different trees,
each a different shade of green.
Clouds, majestic, white and grey.
Emerald-no- jade colored water.
Peace.

It’s Spring and

Ahhh, spring in the South!  I found myself channeling ee cummings when I wrote this for the writing group’s May meeting.

It’s Spring, and

the world is Fresh

with every tiny, ripe green

Bud,

with each small Creature,

breaking free of outworn

holds,

with every Child’s

delighted trill of

Joy.

 

It’s Spring, and

the air is brisk and clean and

pure,

the sun is bright and warm and

Now

the heart is glad and somehow born

Anew.