SLOMO

Yesterday was so cool! It was cool because it gave me an answer 10 years in the making – one that I never really knew that I would get. I have spoken here off and on about a second spiritual experience that I had in 2005. More to the point I have spoken of the results. The results all were all very positive, very! I acquired a eye into the savage brutality of war, I experienced a degree of its pain, I worked with veterans. All in all good results wouldn’t
you say? Yes. I have mentioned this experience as being shamanic in nature. I have described to people, but to be honest it does lose something in the translation. Ah, then there are those who lived through the experience with me. And this is the cool part. I have always known several things about this experience:

1) Friends and family were very worried about the state of my mental health.
2) I hung on for dear life, knowing that I was really alright and that I was doing precisely what I was meant to do.
3) During this 6 week period there was ecstasy and there was agony. I don’t use these terms loosely. It was real.
4) People wished me to get help in the terms of an MD. I knew better and I am glad that I listened to myself. I sought assistance but from those who could help keep me grounded. I sought the assistance of a massage therapist and of an exercise therapist … to help keep me grounded.
5) Yesterday I watched a video in the NYT that I hope to embed below. It is called SLOMO. It is about a doctor who gave it all up for rollerblading. He describes his life of rollerblading. He then goes on to break down his joy in neurological terms. When he did that I knew that he was on to something. But more importantly, I knew that I was on to something. I now know that during that 6 week period in 2005 when I was so joyous, I was in reality high as a kite within my own brain. At that time I was going to the park and hard walking 6 times a day. The result was the same high that this doctor got from rollerblading. It is really, really good to know what happened and to know I was not crazy … as substantiated by the medical field. Click upon the link below and be mesmerized!

SLOMO

Seeing Red …

We are challenged today to really incorporate color into our poem. Whatever you see, whatever you write – really SEE it in color. This was fun. I just chose a few poet friends here on the Net and wrote bits about them, seeing them in the colors that they portray to me. This is at dVerse Poets Pub where the greatest poets in the world meet up for a drink and a few good words and “The Color Festival.”

A stitch here and
there, red thread
pulled. Red coat – rushing
to get her kids off to
school, Claudia – she stops
in the rain
looking down into the
puddle, a reflection
of her home
in red brick
rippling through
the water.
Little eddies
of swirling silver and
gray
with hints of
the sun coming out,
become a froth of
many whites
almost a silver
reflection
in their
splash.

Sherry with her
dog
Jasmine the color of
ginger putty
on a sunny day
the light is a deep
yellow
with the sparkle
of it’s sunshine
bouncing off
the glitter
in the bluest bay.
She sits
upon a log,
a paled wheat
bleached by the sun
with gray and black
streaks.
She sits
watching
white puff clouds
so high they fly
racing by.
She drinks her
dark rich brown coffee
from a warm olive-green
mug, as Jasmine plays
on the
loose
pale bleed of pink sand.

Brian a hand
out to each child
bringing them
along, everyone in a
variant shade
of blue tee-shirt,
gray-blue,
sky-blue
calmest ocean blue.
They head for the
park-bench on
a silvery
sunny day
where they will
sit down
for a picnic
beautiful wife and
mother
tagging along
green like the
earth bringing
PB & J
sandwiches
of love
the color of nuts
tannish, brownish with
grape jam oozing
from the bread
made of
family love.

Grace,
just that.
Grace comes in
many hues
I should think of her
painting by the
sea – palette filled
with every color.
Hair reddish
dress white
with a yellow
sash
silver dangling from her
ears. A purple
ribbon in
her hair.

Mary
off quickly
down the street
pencil thin
a dark shirt
perhaps a gray
white cuffs
with red buttons.
The three
little ones behind
gray, white,
tan,
brown and black
a walk by the
bay.
Swiveled
brown leather
leashes
never
tangle
each little
one with
a red collar
one blue
and one green.

Bjorn stands
against a dark
scowl filled sky
gray-black clouds
raging
across its dark
surface.
He stops briefly
in his burnt orange
cap
blue jeans frayed
just long
enough
to paint
with words the
angry waves
of green and purple.
While its
bubbly lemon froth
hisses spit
over the pier.
iPad in hand washed
over grabbed
by the angry water
a poem washed
away.

Christmas Morning

Although
there were only
two places,
first and last
it didn’t
matter now.

No,
it was
Christmas
Eve and time
for “The Night
Before Christmas.”

I was
so excited.
I was so very
happy but anxious.
Late that night
I became ill.

Santa
didn’t mind
a whit. I looked
downstairs.
Under the tree,
there they were.

Not just
a new pair of
skis but a
new pair of special
skis for me.
I was ten.

I went back
upstairs
and I was sick
I threw up
my dinner, I
was so excited.

A new pair
of Kastle Skis
the best skis
Was there a
Santa Claus? No,
but it felt like it.

My dream
had come true.
When I raced
now maybe my
skis would
win for me.

I felt
so proud that
day. I felt
loved, it was
a great
day for me.

Move Update

We had the nicest inspector. He pointed out to us that the builder who renovated this place did so with the very best of materials seven years ago, showing us the exposed copper and cast iron piping. So what now? I do believe that we are just waiting for the owner to move out his belongings. Actually he has a renter in there and he lives in the Carolinas. I truly hope to move in mid-April. Well, that isn’t true, I would like to move tomorrow. Currently I am taking bids from movers. It is amazing the quality of bids that I am receiving. I am taking three. The first was 100% in depth and thorough. The second seemed to forget that we wanted to know at least 1/2 of the things that I had asked for. We await the third. We expect each to be the same price. I am really just sizing up the movers. Below are some photos. Please understand that the photos are of the unit with the owners goods within it. Somehow as I entered the photos – I REALLY SCREWD UP! So – I love my new closet. Then I forget what comes. We have a great deck with a marble fountain – what comes next?

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The above photo is of the outside of our building. Had we purchased a condo anywhere but downtown we would have had a doorman – something that I wanted. But downtown lofts are a different story altogether. Also, downtown is very youthful. And needless to say one’s condo fee does not include monies to pay for a doorman. I believe that there are 52 units in this building. We are on the 7th floor with a penthouse unit that has the only deck. We are in the back – not the front.

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The front door – we have artwork to place in this space.

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The back wall of the kitchen, there are two side walls also.

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A way too dark photo (having been made as light as possible) of some of the great room.

We Are Moving!

Think of me.
I think of you.
No, this is not
romance.

I think of you
each daily
as I read
your words.

Sometimes
I comment
when there
is time.

We have found
a wonderful
condo – downtown
an artist loft space.

I do believe
we have
a contract
made last night.

Now there
is
just an
inspection.

Then only the
move! The
planning, the calls
the bids.

Then we shall be
gone, somewhere,
noh-where,
but somewhere.

Unpacked
home anew.
I look forward
to being there.

Then Noh Where.
Where I shall
write again
and be with you.

I am so very excited. At my age many city dwellers move to the burbs. Granted we do live in the very nicest part of this city and have done so for 31 years. Now? We are moving downtown to an artist loft space. I love it! It is one huge room with 2 floor to ceiling exposed brick walls. A kitchen and bedroom and 2 bathrooms on the first floor (there was once a second bedroom on this floor – thus the second bathroom). Then the second floor has a bathroom and bedroom with a lovely deck off that bedroom. We have a contract and a closing date – now we must await an inspection … that is all. I m so excited!

Doorways …

I do love the simple metaphor of the doorway or for that matter the window. It can mean so much and yet something different to each who walks through one. For me it is an invitation to learn, a new beginning, a brave pathway, a chance for change, a new life, an escape and so much more. In life we shall pass through many doors. What do doorways mean to you? I would be very interested in knowing. Please share below. These are photos taken from our trip to China in 2006.

We are still in the process of moving. At the beginning of the process really as we look for a home. So I have little time to write. Anyway I have always enjoyed the photo essays of others.

A Poem in Photos

Through the arch
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Love …

This is shared with Poets United for their Mid Week Motif for which I have never written. I guess that I must think that it is time to mix it up a bit. That Motif is love. Love in fourteen lines.

I have been
lucky
in love
my man is
divine
no not god like
just
divine
I have been
lucky in love
yes
for he has
been
all mine.

I realize that this is a poem of exceptional silliness. But love is not silly. It is something hard to come by. It is often something that comes only after significant personal change. The first time that I walked into love I was a very youthful nineteen. That rather dreadful experience lasted seven long years. I was sensible enough to know that if I wished for the real thing to grace my life I had a lot of changing to do. It took me five years, perhaps because I did it on my own with God’s help, but I did it. Today I have been married (wait, I must now count it) thirty two years. I am very lucky, I married my best friend of five years and we are still best friends. So a silly poem for a not so silly love.

Raven Realized

Big Boy

Yes, I did. I realized that I have made some really special friends here. Actually I realized this as I was commenting upon a poem (a great poem) of Claudia’s. I also realized that if I get busy and do not have time to write, but only read, some may worry about me. Thus it would not be fair to just kind of disappear into the sunset, read when I have the time and not write without saying something. So, this week I am preparing for someone to come back and look at the house a second time and perhaps buy it. If not, I won’t be terribly busy next week. But, if they wish to buy the house and if we wish to sell, well, then I shall be really, ready to buy. Well, you get my drift. I am 67, D is 60, we have 3 floors and now wish to live on one floor. We weren’t going to do this right away, but the opportunity presented itself. I believe that we have a house that will be hard to sell (no garage and no place to build one). We are old New Yorkers, so this never bothered us. But this is St Louis and it will bother others! So, my good friends, I am just fine, as I hope that you each are! I might visit but I shan’t write!

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aniraven1

The Outer Banks

Wow what an incredible prompt this is for me coming from M. Bednar at An Imaginary Garden With Real Toads! Thank you so very much! It is truly my favorite place on earth. I would like to move there. But I do not think that this will ever happen.

I just wrote one poem for Mary’s prompt at dVerse so there is not a lot of poem left in me right now. But, if a picture can speak a thousand words, maybe they can be considered poetry. Following are numerous photos from trips over the years to the Outer Banks – and a haiku.

salty summer air
pelicans over water
beaks dipping for fish

Clouds haikuDSC_0029-4DSC_0049-4DSC_0055DSCN2736Gull Over WaterOBX-2007-4OBX-2007-5Sunset-2012

Jack & Paggy

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A poem with two perspectives upon the same thing, from Mary at dVerse. In essence the the first perspective of this poem represents me. The second really represents David as he walks the dogs. However, I just speak from the first person. Jack is our black dog, getting old now, pushing 13. Patty – having become Paggy is still full of vim and vigor at about 5 years of age. They are each rescue dogs.

I open the door
downstairs
mid-day
Two furry noses
greet me in their
special way
Wet and wooly
they emit nothing
but love
Each snuggles under
a different hand
This is true
friendship
pure
Never would either
stray or
leave me
for another
It was always
love at first site
And it would
forever remain
that way

Yet on this
cold
and windy night
the snow
drifting but light
I would question
is my love
as deep and
as pure
as without question
as theirs
as I put on
his collar
and grapple with
leashes
reaching under
her belly
to fit her harness
knowing
that in a
minute
out there I
would be
struggling against
the wind and
the snow
My scarf
becoming
a frozen maul
as it scratches
my face
and scraping now
frozen skin
I ask myself
Is it really worth it
These two mutts
Why did I get
them
rescue them
why
They are nothing
but work
nothing
but trouble
Who wants to
be out in the
in the snow
on a night
like this
grappling with
two lunging
dogs
as they play
pulling
you this way
and that

Jack

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Oh Girlie