Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Quill #122 - Mortal (June, 2011)

I watch myself dying, toe by toe.
I wiggle and wiggle.
Every day it takes longer
To get feeling back.

I watch myself dying, nerve by nerve.
The tingles and pains,
Each week, move further.
At least I feel them.

I watch myself dying, wheeze by wheeze.
Pain by pain, step by step,
Minute by minute,
Chill by chill, bite by bite.

But, in the moments between,
When a squirrel peeks at me from
Behind a bole in its tree,
Or a child smiles at me shyly,

Friends laugh together,
The sun shines through clouds,
In these moments the world
Grants me joy, reprieve,

Happiness and the gifts
All humans are given.
Life is terminal.
For now, I'm still here.

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Quill #102 - Gamblers Lie.

Oh, they'll tell you what they've won, but they don't tell you what they've lost or what it took to get to the occasional win. I suspect it's possible to win enough to break even, if the gambler could stop playing after their big win. How many can?

I had a family member, quite lovable, who was addicted to gambling. She had several personal issues she needed to work out and I think gambling was her method of forgetting about them. Like movies in the Depression, gambling was her way of avoiding the pain within her life. The problem was, though, that she would only talk about the wins. And she had some nice gains, a few over ten thousand dollars, which was big money to the people she told. One of those people was my mom.

Mom had, in all her married years, been the Keeper of the Purse. She managed the family budget with such finesse that, on a teacher's salary, we had travelled most of the US and parts of Canada and, from our midwest location, gone to DisneyWorld twice and DisneyLand six times. She was not a spendthrift. Her facility with money provided my parents with a retirement most people would only dream of having.

However, in the last five to ten years of her life, her health went dramatically downhill. The medical bills piled up, pharmacy fees were outlandish and, in spite of her best efforts, she slowly lost the ability to keep everything afloat.

To her, winning ten to twenty thousand dollars in a gamble seemed like the answer to her prayers. Encouraged by the family member whose losses were unknown, she began playing with small amounts and, when those were lost, was told she "gave up too soon."

It came to the point where she was losing more than she could afford in a desperate attempt to win like her relative was supposedly winning. She got herself into such dire straits that she felt she had nothing to lose by continuing to gamble with the little she did have. She borrowed from family, including me, to cover losses she couldn't explain - or didn't want to explain - to Dad, all the while encouraged to try again.

Some of this I put together later. Even when she borrowed hundreds from me (and I didn't expect to be paid back because, in truth, she helped me FAR more, over the years, than I could ever repay to her), I didn't realize how bad things were. I didn't know that she was falling behind on bills, or that their credit was maxed, or that the losses I thought were temporary would hurt them the following month, too. And her gambling increased as her situation worsened, all spurred on by the promise of one big win.

Mom had never been able to discuss finances with me. It must have been a matter of pride for her because I honestly didn't know they were hurting for funds. Nobody told me. Maybe my brothers thought she had, or that I should have figured it out for myself. I don't know if they knew how bad things were, either. Regardless, I found out the hard way.

I'm sure it was the stress. If she could have told me she needed money, I'd have found a way to get it to her, but she couldn't tell me, couldn't ask, and I couldn't read her mind. When she died, her checkbook was overdrawn by eighteen dollars - the exact amount of a check she sent to me for something I had asked her to keep as a gift. I told her NOT to send me money and she did, anyway. Maybe that was her cry for help - a check she knew would bounce. But, since the check arrived at my house while I was attending her funeral, the information came too late. If I had known, she might still be alive.

(photos from family archives)

Monday, October 4, 2010

Quill #73 - Chip Off the Old Block

One night, a few winters ago, I was kept awake particularly late, chatting with a friend through our computers. I heard a loud crash and investigated. On my bed, right where I would have laid my head, was a very large, heavy chunk of plaster from the ceiling of my bedroom. It was part of a much larger section, not only what landed on the bed. The piece missing from the ceiling, including the pumpkin-sized chunk that could have killed me if I'd been sleeping when this happened, was exactly - exactly - the size and shape of a child's coffin.


Thursday, September 23, 2010

Quill #65 - 25 Things About Me (crossposted from FaceBook)

1. When I was a child, the only pets I ever loved died tragic deaths.

One hung itself on a leash when my parents weren't watching it while I was visiting grandparents, one was hit by a school bus on the street in front of our house, one was 14 years old when I got her and died within a few months, one got pneumonia because my parents wouldn't let it live in the house, and one died of car fumes because my parents didn't want the puppy in the car and the ride in the trunk took too long. I think this, combined with my father's attitude toward pets, made me the kind of person who is afraid to be attached too strongly to animals.

2. I'm a Libra. And while I've never put a whole lot of stock in astrology, I have taken the concept of fairness to heart. I have always been the kind of person who sought fairness and tried to be fair to others. I have often failed, but not for lack of trying.

3. The first time I remember being put on a diet was when I was eight years old. My mother decided she wasn't happy with her own appearance and she wanted company on her calorie counting program. At the time, I was normal for my age and development.

4. My high school class voted me the "Hardest Worker." In the four years, I got maybe two or three grades lower than an A, and placed third in my class. We were told that the top 5 people were so close that officials had to go back to grade school to assess who would be valedictorian.

5. The top two professions I wanted to follow, when I graduated in 1979, were denied to me because of my gender.

6. I had three miscarriages between my two children, mostly due to stress. In fact, our son was a miracle baby because I almost lost him twice, and daughter was a miracle baby because, even though I was under some of the worst stress of my life at that point, absolutely nothing went wrong with the pregnancy. Just for the record, I'm proud of both my children and cherish the time we spend together, even moreso now that I have a wonderful daughter-in-law and grandkids.

7. I am a philosophical Taoist. I believe that Christ was influenced by Taoism during the time he wandered and that the best parts of his message came from this earlier wisdom. I also think that much of his message has been distorted. I respect almost all religions. One of the few I don't respect, sadly, is the Taoist religion as it is now practiced. I would still defend the right to worship it.

8. I appreciate my parents and the childhood they gave me. I don't think they were perfect, and people make mistakes, but they did the best they could. All flaws in my character are my fault, not theirs. I also appreciate the extended family I had. I didn't always show my gratitude, but it was there. Is there.

9. I enjoy intellectual pursuits, but the whole reason for living is to love and be loved by others. Without family and friends, I wouldn't have reason to continue.

10. I don't think kids today are worse than kids before our time, or that the world is going to hell in a handbasket. I think, rather, that I'm more aware of problems that I mostly ignored when I was busy raising kids and working for survival. Now that I have time to pay more attention, I'm astounded by the problems that need fixing. On the bright side, I trust my kids and their generation to make a better future. I see evidence of improvement in some areas that I thought were lost causes.

11. I have spent most of my life refusing to hate anyone, ever. I have forgiven people who hurt my family, who hurt me, even those who hurt my children when they were small children. And, at this time in my life, I find myself angry enough with certain politicians that it's a good thing I'll never meet them. It's a good thing I don't carry weapons. I'm not sure that I wouldn't consider it worth spending the rest of my life in prison to remove their influences from the world. This is something I'm having to work to overcome in myself.

12. I don't like wind hitting my face. I feel like I can't breathe and start to panic.

13. I'm so scared of heights that I get vertigo in balconies. I've been this way all of my life and, to my knowledge, I've never fallen or been dropped from a height.

14. Candles, incenses and strong odors of any kind, especially chemical or floral, cause me to have serious headaches, get congested, and have trouble breathing. They actually affect me almost as badly as cigarette smoke. I often have to leave a store, restaurant, or even a friend's house due to the beautiful scents around me.

15. I'm thrilled to be playing Miss Maudie Atkinson in To Kill a Mockingbird. I think I was extremely fortunate to be chosen for the play and to have been given this part, especially, because I like being a champion for positive change.

16. I have given away, mostly to strangers, mostly to children, almost 14,000 books. If more books given to children didn't make -some- kind of difference, it wasn't for lack of trying. I'm 4libros on www.BookCrossing.com if you want to look.

17. I was a theatre critic in St. Louis for a few years for a public radio station.

18. My three favorite (non-religious) books are _The_Princess_Bride_ by William Goldman, _Illusions_ by Richard Bach (author of Jonathan Livingston Seagull), and _A_Dirty_Job_ by Christopher Moore. I also enjoy Terry Pratchett's Discworld series. There are many many more I could recommend, but these are my top few.

19. The most I was ever paid for a short story or poem was $50. That's happened three times, all three from winning literary contests. My short story, "The Mountain," has been published in small magazines five times.

20. This November 1st will be husband's and my 30th wedding anniversary. When we married, there were people actively opposed to our union. In fact, there were so many rumors that ours was a "necessary" wedding that, when I had trouble saying my vows, the minister almost stopped the ceremony. The rumors were completely unfounded. I was so much in love that, every time I looked at him, I started crying from happiness. My mother had the same problem at her wedding.

21. I crochet baby blankets and other items for charity.

22. Thanks mostly to my parents, I've visited almost every state in the union, three provinces of Canada, two Mexican states and London, England. I've lived in Kansas, Iowa, Missouri, Arkansas, Nebraska, Colorado and Arizona. In my almost 49 years of life, I've moved about 44 times.

23. I collect obscure poetry, owls, fiber arts, good quality pencils, and books.

24. I plan to copy this note from FaceBook to my blog. I've only been blogging for a few months. I started with the idea of putting all my writings in one place, so that my kids could read it, if they ever wanted to. The project has grown and I find myself writing more than I have in some time. Additionally, blogging has opened up a whole new community to me, one that has some very interesting people in it.

25. The best stories I ever told were imagined to entertain my middle brother at times during our childhood when our parents put me in charge of him and we had few to no toys to play with. I doubt he remembers "Pirate Ship" and "Junkyard Orphans." I barely do. But, this skill saved me from numerous spankings. I was the eldest and his actions reflected on my own, and I can only remember one time in my entire youth when he was held accountable for misbehaving when I was "in charge." Rather than resenting anyone for this normal part of family life, I am grateful for the development it gave to my creativity. Kids today have too many distractions from exploring their own minds. ;-) Yeah, I know, that's an "old person" thing to say.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Quill #56 - Policy (Sept. 1, 2010)

She was the kind of person who tried to stock goodness for a rainy day,
As if she believed she'd need lots extra for some personal holocaust of evilness in her final days,
Or worried about an accidental changing of her ways that would strike thousands dead
And she needed to pre-compensate by saving their souls times a power of ten.
She took the Boy Scout motto to unreasonable heights when it came to afterlife insurance.
But she wasn't trying to be paid for eternity,
And she wasn't paying past due bills with love.
I would have liked to know what her Nemesis was doing to make her work so hard when she was dying,
Already sure of her destination.


Thursday, September 9, 2010

Quill #51 - My Love, My Lady Love (Jan, 1982)

Upon a hill there is a house
Surrounded by a grove
Wth relatives all gathered close
To see my lady love.

Her little house is neat and clean,
No speck of dust within.
A nicer house cannot be seen
And still be built by men.

Today it is her wedding day
And yet she sits in gloom,
And all the world is dark and grey
For I am not her groom.

For on the hill there is a house
Surrounded by a grove,
With relatives all gathered close,
And therein lies my love.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Quill #43 - Whither (2000)

West of the Westward Arch,
Past Giant Muddy,
Under pines on flint hills,
Cranes stand watching me.

Sitting on fallen trunks,
I feel the Turtle
Channeling rich black mud.
Its spirit calls me.

"Let flow the grave regrets."
"Leave tearful endings."
"Shower the world with bliss,"
Manitous whisper.

"Someday this ache will end."
"Pain is but fleeting."
"Your heart will fill again;
All will be mended."

Still I sit silently,
Questing to hear him,
A voice I'll never know
On this world again.

I want his comforting;
Need his caresses.
My hand goes out to him,
Catching a zephyr.

Can he come back to me,
One of these moments?
Will he hold my soul in
His strong arms again?

Out of the woods beneath,
Katydids stop,
Calling me back from deep
Echoes of longing.

Where has he gone, my love?
Will I soon follow?
Tears drop upon my face;
The sky is weeping.

Tree splits before my eyes.
Lightning has struck it.
Low thunder mocks my cries.
I run to my car.

Safe in my sacred space,
I turn on static,
Waiting for messages
Sent by the storm god.

"Don't look into the past."
"Live in the moment."
"Enjoy the happiness
Gathered on this day."

Nothing is coming through,
None of the lessons.
Living is such a chore
Till this tempest ends.

I hear him call my name;
From river dirges.
My cell phone chirps to me.
Which song should I heed?

I see a ray of light
Flash through my window.
I know who should guide me.
And then, I follow.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Quill #40 - Haiku-shaped poems for Zailin (2010)


Late blooming lotus
Dies in deep winter's embrace.
No promise of spring.

-----

A stone's longest skip
Will not prevent him sinking
Beside his brothers.

-----

Brave little boy runs,
Chasing after butterflies
He will never catch.

-----

Caped crusader comes
To save his parents from fear.
He hugs them too tight.

Saturday, August 28, 2010

Quill #39 - Hero's Journey (2010)

Annoyed by the tick of a clock I cannot see,
I hear a countdown in my head
Of decisions lost in time and age.
My toes crackle and pop as I wiggle,
Trying to restore circulation and warm them.
It would be easy to despair
Over the days I was given to waste,
But a little boy calls to me from another room,
A young child with everything to live for,
Precious little memory,
And too few moments left to spend.
It is desperately unfair to him
That his presence teaches joy
In lessons he will never get to know.
No dreams of president or astronaut,
Nor baseball player, racing cars.
For him, the clock in his head
Is already sounding alarms and ringing bells,
But there is no fireman to save him from the din.
There is only love and toys,
And a seed that keeps growing larger
In luxuriously fertile ground.

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Quill #23 - Facade (1979)

An empty stage,
In an empty room, dark,
Strewn with cobwebs, and dust, and old programs.
Only a few hours before
The stage was bright,
The room filled with people,
A play was performed.

The curtain closed.
The lights went off.
The cars left.
The characters that were brought to life for a few short lines
Disappeared as though never there.
Gone forever,
Except in the hearts of the players, and the old programs,
Waiting to be swept away...

Friday, August 6, 2010

Quill #22 - A Marvell-ous Response (1995)

To those who would rush me before my time,
Speaking blithely of joys of the flesh,
You claim you hear chariots approaching behind
As though Death, at your shoulder, stands ready to thresh.

Truth is, if you value my heart and my mind,
And not merely desire my form,
Is it not worth it to you to be gen'rous and kind?
Or am I but a jewel to adorn?

There are joys in the hunt and the chase, in all life!
One can choose to forego parts of that.
But regret follows those who dispense with a rite.
Courtship ought to be more than a doff of the hat.

The game is to separate the chaff from the wheat,
Would you hasten me out of my dole?
If you have not the patience to wait for my meat,
How much time will you give for my soul?

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Quill #9 - Footsteps (1994)

Jack Sprat's wife had heart
Troubles, became diabetic
From his cigarettes, her fatty diet.
Hypochondria, Medicine called it,
She lost over a hundred pounds in ten.
(Weeks! Thin is in.)

Cancer grew in her hands and knees;
denied insulin, passed sugar for six years,
Several doctors ignored her asthmatic pleas;
Nurse finally saw pain screaming through the tears.
(Angels of Mercy, preserve her!)

Jack took his habit outside then,
Till two sons moved back to the pumpkin,
Brought their young, motherless children with them,
And, exhibiting no intrinsic consideration,
Grown men trailed camel turds all over tarnation.
(Gotta be a man!)

When Jack & Sons dropped her skeleton six feet under
Every orphaned grandchild mourned a beloved lost mother.
A single watcher's thoughts were bitter,
Daughter-in-law, married to Jack Junior,
With grown sons beginning to take over
(Xeroxed chain-puffers like their father),
Dogging Mrs. Sprat ashes to ashes.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Quill #5 - Texture (1998)

At first I tried drinking it in the usual fashion,
Warm and straight out of the container,
But it just made me want to gag.
Not from the flavor!
After a lifetime of texture,
I wasn't ready to lose variety in my diet.
Never a wine connoisseur
The age or origin of a liquid didn't matter to me.
I was hooked on texture,
And began to experiment with several techniques
To see what could be stomached.
Air drying,
Extractions,
Temperature changes,
Even a bit of gentle cooking,
And, eventually,
Realized that all were palatable.
I guess the form doesn't matter as much as the content.
In any case, I was able to effect
Such a wide variety of textures,
My friends began asking for recipes.
Instead, I began a catering service.
My specialty,
A full eight-course dinner,
Was the favorite among my clients.
I would begin with mulled wine
And a pastry thin crisp
To crumble into the soup.
Then, a fine simulated steak with gravy,
Followed by warm pudding.
Some guests would balk at the cooked items,
Until they tried them.
Chewy, moist drops in candy mold shapes
Were the piece de resistance.
No one ever turned away from those.
Animal and people shapes were the most popular,
Cartoon characters for the children's parties.
Drops were difficult to time correctly,
But well worth the effort.
If all else failed to satisfy,
Red velvet cake with bright whipped topping was a crowd pleaser,
For any party, any age.
More often than not,
My clients would groan away from the table,
Marvelling at how many different ways I'd managed
To prepare their favorite food.
Which is how I made a name for myself - "Dan's Macabres" -
Caterer to my vampire kin.

Monday, July 5, 2010

Quill #4 - Crosses (1995)


Glittering threads between my hands,
Right hand crosses left.
Golden flowers in narrow bands,
Left hand crosses right.

Satin birds fly where I will,
Right hand crosses left.
Feathered deer grow on a hill,
Left hand crosses right.

Stitches on a linen weave,
Right hand crosses left.
Fill the world for which I grieve,
Left hand crosses right.

Hair is all that's left of him,
Right hand crosses left.
I'll sew it till my light grows dim,
Left hand crosses right.

Victorian tribute to the dead,
Right hand crosses left.
Pillow where I'll lay my head,
Left hand crosses right.

--------

This poem won the Silas Summers Literary Award, 1st Place in poetry, 1995-96, and was published in the e-magazine, Cartouche, in 1996.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

Quill #3 - Veneration (1999)

She would feel the Presence directly behind her,
Breath tingling the nape of her neck.
"Death approaches from the left," she'd read.
The Presence wasn't Death.

Once, in the birthing room,
Barely two years before her mother's passing,
The Presence had come to her,
Helped her disconnect the pain,
Kept her mind busy with words of
Kinship,
Motherhood,
The Nature of gods.
Important stuff.
Now it was the only mother left to her.

She, always a side-curling sleeper,
Would feel one lock lifted,
A cold sensation of air underneath,
Then the tress would be dropped.
Tense, awake, she would wait for another sign,
Another message of insight,
Some reason for the Presence's interest in her hair.
She was dissatisfied by its silence.

Later, she remembered a toddler game,
Favorite of her maternal grandfather,
Played regularly by her mother,
Brought over from Sweden by earlier ancestors.
Child positioned on lap,
The teasing elder would raise a rearward plait,
Murmur words, daring the child to respond.
The words meant, "I love you."
But that puzzle wasn't solved until her own daughter was born.

"You'd better not do that," was the challenge.
Her daughter, intrigued as she had been,
Wriggles from lap to back to repeat the ritual.
Child taking the mother's stance,
Giving the parent's command,
Giggling at her own audacity
And her mother's attempts to prevent the role reversal.

Repositioning the child for repetition,
"This do in remembrance of your great-grandfather,
Your grandmother, and me," she whispers to her toddler.
Prickles at the back of her neck complete a deja vu.
The Presence, finally honored, moves on.