Sunday, October 31, 2010

Day 73, Happy Halloween

So no one will really read this post and heaven knows I need an excuse to take it easy today so here is the challenge... describe your favorite thing about Halloween in a couplet (2 lines). 


a tender orange hue
that makes me dream of winter warmth.

Saturday, October 30, 2010

Day 72, Curse God and Die

Trying times get you to thinking and I've had some of those this year, this week :O. I've always thought Job's wife was cruel, unfeeling when she said that but then a bit of stress hits and I feel that breaking point and I get it. She wanted out, she lost how many children? how much suffering had she endured? how much had her husband suffered too? She was weary and weak and angry with God, maybe even her husband but I don't think she was cruel, I think she was scared and tired and didn't want to see more suffering, she was hurting, like so many other people. I go through some little thing and hit the breaking point and then I try to critique this woman? Really...

Curse God and Die
"Curse God and die,"she keened
rocking on her knees,
head bent down
she could not look him in the face.

"Curse God and die," she said
her heart puckered like a prune
barely beating
from the pain, barely beating.

"Curse God and die," she mumbled
eyes blurred and stinging
throat too dry
she could not face his God.

Foolish woman that she was
she would not see the good
soul too weary
so he did what she could not.

"Youth Mourning" (1916) by Sir George Clausen (1852-1944)

Friday, October 29, 2010

Day 71, facades

It's been a trying week. I am tired and ready to relax this evening. This is what crossed my weary brain...


Blistered heart and
wounded pride
sacrifice the things inside
just to wear an outer shell
that says I'm great,
all is well.
When all the world around
is certain it's not true
and the only one that's fooled
is the fool inside of you.

Thursday, October 28, 2010

And on day 70...

she went kaput! :) Ever read a poem about being kaput? You are about to! I'll be back to writing tomorrow!


Worn and weary
ready to fall
into a bed
and that is all,
that is all!

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Day 69, blasphemy

Definitions of blasphemy:
noun: blasphemous language (expressing disrespect for God or for something sacred)
noun: blasphemous behavior; the act of depriving something of its sacred character

A haiku in honor of a word that was running around in my mind today. 


knowing you are there
but denying you exist
so that I don't have to stop

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Day 68, Ms. Sara

Ms. Sara won't be forgotten because I think, upon loosing her, we realize most how very much she mattered. I'll probably redo this a different day as I would like to dedicate more time and effort to her...
Little Lamp

Little lamp
constant warmth
laughter hiding
behind the seams
and it seems
we knew too little.

Little lamp
steady glow
the smallest favors
the seeds you sowed,
loving our children,
never asking
for more.

Monday, October 25, 2010

Day 67, When in doubt.

Don't write what you are really thinking :) Major plumping problems at the Gregory home, which really stinks, really! So tonight I am WORE OUT, can anyone relate, is there anyone that can't? Back to my plumbing, it has me in a bit of a mood, an aggrivated mood so I thought I would talk about good things that together aggrivate me... a complaint poem of sorts.

The Complaint Poem
Fall and heat.
Humidity and Halloween costumes
Wind, long hair and great lipgloss. 
Toilets and toddlers.
Bedtime and laundry.
Horomones and men.
Facebook and productivity.
Facebook and privacy.
Friends and Alabama.
Soccer and mosquitos.
Target and frugality.
Clothes shopping and good self esteem.

Car pool line and effeciency.
Football games and weather alerts.
Fall and heat...

so what are yours? Tell me!

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Day 66, Blow and Make a Wish

It's been a good birthday with a funky end but good no less! I am very grateful for my life and what it is and who it is with, family and friends :)


Candle flames flicker.
Candle flames burn.
and so
do wishes,
I've gradually learned.

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Day 65, Little Men and Big Men all around :)

So no formal nothing today, just a light little ditty to wrap up an awesome Saturday before hitting a birthday party, and it really did happen, such a sweet moment.

Me Man

he taps my arm
"Me man," he says
with toy hammer in hand
and locks my eyes to say watch
and sets out to pound upon the entire house
"Me Man," he smiles to himself
"Me Mamma," I whisper
"and I adore you
my little man."

Friday, October 22, 2010

Day 64, this is what happens when...

you try to write a poem with a migraine...


So I'm pulling out one I wrote only heaven knows how long ago... a little poem for a girl's night we did once (maybe 6 years ago!) yikes! Every girl needs to feel special and adored and some of us just don't sometimes, it's important to remember there is always a man in our life who does adore us, so, so very much...

 It needs work but I ain't entering this in a contest so no critiquing and no proof reading :P, my head hurts :(


I am her father.
I am a King.
She is my Princess.
I see her day and night suffering.
She has all she needs in my kingdom.
Yet she runs away day after day,
chasing the things I've placed at her very feet.

She wants adoration.
I adore her.
She wants love.
I love her.
She wants beauty.
I've created it.
She wants peace.
I am the keeper of it.
She wants joy.
I am joy.
She wants forgiveness.
I have forgiven her.

Still she runs.
She doubts what I have
proven over and over again,
and she will continue to.

She is afraid my light
will show her imperfections.
She forgets that I am blind to them.
She is terrified to face her past.
She forgets that I only care for today.
She is consumed with worry over tomorrow.
She has forgotten that I will meet her every need.

Princess, how I wish you would turn
your face from the shadows.

Look at me and my kingdom.
I know you want to.
You know it is here, I have placed
these desires in your heart for eternity.
You are afraid of your own sin.
But I have promised
when you face me I will see it no more.

She is my Princess.
I want her in my kingdom desperately.

Turn to me. I will never disappoint you.
I will never hurt you.I will never forget you.
I will never stop loving you.
I will never stop believing in you
even when you have stopped
believing in me.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

So not to bore you but it's worth comparing and working on for a day or so... this is version B. The word dangle is out! More than one person commented and you guys were right (btw, I just used "were" correctly too) I can never tell if it is good or bad to have teachers as friends ;) I promise I do know the difference between the two Kari, but sometimes my fingers forget :) Changed some verb tense and streamlined the 1st, to 2nd person problems I had. Now what do you think my honest friends? Better, same, worse? I've had a comment about a mountain and tears, to keep the tears in or simplify...

The Stream

Barefoot, ankle deep in a mountain stream
he laughs and jumps from stone to stone
the splashing water a crystal dew pausing in the air,
the mountain anointing their feet with it's tears.

She almost kept walking and missed
that moment when his smile was pure
his laugh unobscured, unaware of self while he was
barefoot, ankle deep in a mountain stream.

All they could feel was the cool silk of the water
and the rounded river stones cobbled together by nature
or the occasional little boy who rearranges them, as
he laughs and jumps from stone to stone.

His mother unable to resist adoring him
her soul's hunger finally filled
a satiated joy possessing their steps
the splashing water a crystal dew pausing in the air.

There were reasons not to stop
reasons to leave and never see
how sadness and joy are forever intertwined,
the mountain anointing their feet with its tears.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Day 62, so do you think this works?

I have two weeks to enter a poetry contest. Not anticipating a win but I must start challenging myself. I am remodeling a previous poem from here. So I want your opinion, just answer these two questions.
Does the poem allow you to imagine this scene?
Is the scene clear to you and pleasant, or am I forcing a point? Don't be afraid to post, like I said I have two weeks to work on this and thank you for any brave soul that replies, I know it is hard but I promise I can handle it :) Oh and a buck to anyone who can tell what Bible story I am alluding to...

This is a poetic form called "Cascade" that I am going for. You build a 3-4 lined stanza and then repeat each line in the stanza as the end of the following stanzas... click here is the link to an explanation if you are curious. I like this form a lot.

The Stream

Feet dangle in a mountain stream
He laughs and jumps from stone to stone
the splashing water a crystal dew pausing in the air,
the mountain anointing our feet with it's tears.

I almost kept walking and missed
this moment when his smile was pure
his laugh unobscured, unaware of self while his
feet dangle in a mountain stream.

All we could feel was the cool silk of the water

and rounded river stones cobbled together by nature
or the occasional little boy, who rearranges them as
he laughs and jumps from stone to stone.

His mother unable to resist adoring him
her souls hunger finally filled
a satiated joy possessing their steps
the splashing water a crystal dew pausing in the air.

There where reasons not to stop
reasons to leave and never see
how sadness and joy are forever intertwined,
the mountain anointing our feet with it's tears.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Day 61, still praying for Tara!

and reading Hosea 1. I think this will be my theme for the week. I need to be reading my Bible and this sorta makes me spend more time there so I'm going to stick with it for now but no worries, not forever. :)


A queen may spill
her silver blood upon
your trodden street
but you are sweet
to my mind, 
a sanctuary.

In your valley
lies a promise,
dewy grass and
fruit filled trees
swaying, praising
the wind a
fragrant exhale.

Jezreel, I want to
walk down your hills
and rest
on your cinnamon
earth, lie upon
the promise of peace.

the actual Valley of Jezreel

Monday, October 18, 2010

Day 60, WOW! My response (in poetry) to Hosea 6:1-3

So I've established I am a TOTAL nerd. I like to write poems about the scriptures I read, as if you needed more evidence... Today's read was a random, flip to Hosea 6:3 "So let us know, let us press on to know the Lord, His going forth is as certain as the dawn; and he will come to us like the rain, like the spring rain watering the earth." Praying today that heart surgery for my BFF Tara tomorrow is indeed a spring rain :)

Waiting for the Rain

It's the waiting
waiting for the rain
this is when we need
you most, fear you most,
feel you most.

The drooping sky
our consequence and our salvation
all rolled into the thunder,
the static of the storm.

And though we fear
the wind may break
our brittle bones
we solicit the rain,
our thirsty souls
ready to be quenched.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

Day 59, Sunday just has to be Sunday sometimes

So I didn't actually write a poem today because the two year old is still awake in his bed and I'm just worn out! But, I am posting a poem I wrote not too long ago. It made sense when I wrote it [shrug] :)

What a whispering wind
it must of been
to pass through
and never be heard
knocking us from the
cusp of reverence
we slipped
rapping on the rocks,
letting our wounds
be our pleas

I’ll take the wild seas,
and the hunger and screams
of a soul too lustful
of words. “If only
the wind would pass me again
and whisper her secrets to me!”

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Day 58, the black hole of love...

Haiku today, because I am all out of energy and time after a really great weekend :)


A vanishing thing
little people crave and need
a black hole of love

black hole is an object with such powerful gravity that nothing can escape from it.

Friday, October 15, 2010

Day 57 straight out of 2 Samuel 7

Maybe the coolest passage in the Bible to me, and what I most relate to in this is that my childhood home was cedar, completely cedar. My bedroom walls where cedar so I think I can imagine something of David's home life. Since I didn't know houses weren't normally cedar it seemed a palace to me.

Cedar Palace

A homeless Lord
says to a grateful
king in a cedar palace
"I will bless you
and those after you"
and the grateful king
is ever more grateful,
ever more aware that
God's love surrounds
him inside these cedar walls.

The musky smells of
the orange wood surrounds
him with peace and safety.
The prickly surface
of the wood as his hand
rest on the wall
reminds him that life
is not without it's splinters
not without its interruptions
that some of those are blessings
and some of those are consequences
but it all leaves the tips of your fingertips
with the memory, with the warning.

So the king bows to his God,
bows in his palace
of amber glow and wood cut smells
because God sleeps on the street
because his God needs no walls
his God needs no covering.
His God needs no cedar palace.
The ruler is humbly
aware that he does need this home
he understands his weakness
he understands his blessings
he understands his God, 
his Fortress
will not fail him.

not the photo I wanted but it shows the glow, the orange-y surreal glow you live in,
it makes you calm, it makes you crazy sometimes too. :)

Thursday, October 14, 2010

Day 56 and why my life is cacophony

I was thinking of trying cacophony today and realized life IS cacophony, just a bunch of mismatched sounds and it's kinda up to you to pick out the notes you most enjoy...

The Silence of Joy

I forgot to hear it
the preciousness,
the joy of life living
round me whether I 
command it to or not.

I was too busy noticing the neighbor's chainsaw
the dog barking at the chainsaw
and the dryer that I was surprised to hear 
over the chainsaw
Oh and the catchy
intro song to Jack's
favorite show wanted to be heard too.

I was trying to write a poem
and all I could think was impolite phrases, 
because i wanted quiet
because it would please me and help me think,
because all I was thinking of right then was me.
And with all the noise I forgot
just how boring that can be.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Day 56 My Christianity and a Plastic Sofa Cover

Just taking a minute to be brutally honest, I'll probably regret it, but oh well, it's late and it's all I've got.

The Sofa Cover

My faith is like
a clear plastic sofa cover.
What God meant to
guard my soul with
I've used to protect my own skin.

Skin covered in the sticky, 
stiff resistance
of a heart too afraid
of the wear and tear,
too afraid of the

All God needs lies
underneath the
crinkly coat
of selfishness,
of fear, and what, pray tell,
is the difference 
between the two
on any given day?

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Day 55. What are all these post, you ask?

Just me. Writing a poetry blog. About motherhood and whatever else crosses my mind. My hope is that there are a few brave souls that will participate or pass this on to someone you know that might like to. Blogs are great but I wanted something different, something to challenge me and well, I'm a geeky kind girl and I love poetry, so there. :)

So I have to get back to some much dreaded restrictions and formatting. This was a neat idea and there are a few of you that might do this. I'm going to write the start f a poem and let's see how long we can make it. I go, then another person comments and adds to it, just one line, please!?

The Mother Thing.

The day I became a mother
I remember the way the sun and wind where playing
hide and seek with me.

now you keep it going and it doesn't have to sound great with mine, just try one little line :) if you want to send it in a message on fb I can keep it anonymous.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Day 54 of 365. The Truth

Combing for the Truth.

A tiny amber glass peaks
brilliantly from the sands.
The sun captures it for my eye.
But then there is a sudden shift
and I can't see the tiny shard,
the delicate truth my eye desired
is hidden, victim to the shifting grains
of deceit. Truth where are you?

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Day 53 of 365 and a Sunday nap

So I'm going to wax poetic about a Sunday nap, not one of those peaceful, restful ones but the kind where you wake up with drool on your cheek and say mean things to your children when they try to wake you up.

A Sunday Nap

Sleep, Sleep,
don't run away
I've been chasing you
this entire day
and here we are
me and the couch
I want you sleep
but I'm no slouch
I kept the babies,
I brought breakfast,
I passed out water
and I wore lipstick
I smiled when the
toddler screamed in the park
I calmly scolded his little heart.
Now I am so tired
my feet hurt and I
am quite sure if I do not rest
my body will protest
and my inner beauty
will fade to beast
Nap, you are mine!
My Sunday priest.

Saturday, October 9, 2010

Day 52, kiwi and kissing

Kiwi taste
Like a spin
the bottle kiss
Sweet and innocent
But it's the leftover
Tanginess that leaves
You wanting more.

Friday, October 8, 2010

Day 51, if a kiwi falls in the forest...

So we are on hearing, I'm saving taste for tomorrow...

The Voice of the Kiwi

The kiwi sings a ditty,
it's a happy little fruit
a champagne bottle popping
on top of a midnight roof
Celebrate! it smiles.
Rejoice!, the kiwi summons
in it's quiet little voice.
Taste and see what 
the Lord has made
taste and see that
it is good!

Thursday, October 7, 2010

Day 50 and another kiwi, mmm-mmm-mmmmm

So today is smell. To me taste and smell are the hardest but technically for the kiwi I think sound will be a challenge. Might even have to buy one and do some research :) Just a little FYI, my nickname with my best friend through high school was "kiwi". I had a lot of arm hair...

Forgotten Yesterdays

The prickly fuzz gives no ether
of something favorable.
A canteloupe has no secrets,
place an unopened melon beneath your nose
and you know to eat it.
Not a kiwi, it's too modest, too humble.
So you smell it and nothing, not a tingle.

But then you slice it open.

It's a smell that skips the olfactory
a smell that permeates the tongue first, as if
you already have tasted it, like a forgotten yesterday.
Sweet and tangible but mellow, so mellow.
You are both hungry and satiated.
Ready and afraid, for it always leaves you guessing.

see the way it looks so bland, sneaky little fruit, 
if it didn't look so pregnant I don't 
think we would eat the things...

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Day 49, a Before and After

So this is why I started a poetry blog. It's so that I don't bore you to tears with more words. This little cemetery has been on my heart for a while. I had all this stuff it made me ponder on and so this is my poem about it. Go one entry back from earlier today and you will see how, though well meaning, I would have totally bored the pants off of you. Less is more sometimes, even if this isn't a great poem it says just about the same thing as the much, much longer entry from earlier today and who really needs to actually hear everything I am thinking? I like the little question marks left by a poem, the mystery of it. I know I am a geek btw...

The Garden Rows

This is where a garden grows
seed of hopes, placed down the row
Each wish spilled waters well,
the earth that blankets
and clothes the swell
of emptiness, not to be filled,
of joy so lost it's bloom reveals
a moment where a mother's eyes
spent their tears and now baptize
each and every paid respect
with a gratefulness that
brings me to reflect
on the purpose and the God
who purchased every seed,
who gave the ground and trowel
to a mother who could see
the bloom of something living,
that death is fallacy.

Day 49, sometimes you have to sidetrack...

... and talk about what's on your mind and it just isn't kiwi and it isn't poetry. It's this.

and this...

some people don't like cemeteries. It's understandable. What you are looking at is the ground I will be buried in though. The ground where both my mother's grandparents where buried in. Her parents will lie there as well as her brother's and sisters and she and her husband. Lot's of aunts and uncles in there too, and behind me somewhere there are family friends and these precious little ones. I wish I'd had my camera to capture to beauty of this place. To show you it's gentle little hills and southern shade. The country air just permeates your senses, you're among family after all.
But these little ones, they are what capture me each and every time. Here is what you need to understand about these photos above. Each tombstone represents an infant. Each photo is one families plot. I don't know the details but each one dates before 1940, a couple are late 1800's. See the flowers on the second photo? One man lost 7 children between two wives over 30 years. I can tell only that much from the inscriptions. These little tombstones dot that whole graveyard. So what? you say, we put flowers on graves too, don't we. Yes we do, but 80 years later? it isn't the mothers putting these flowers here. These mother's died in 1940-1960 something. We are talking 3rd or 4th generation grave tending here. Meet Lorene, Josephine, Billie Mae and Ruth...

Let's add a little context. Most of these tombstones where placed during the depression era in a community that was already dirt poor. These markings cost money even then. These families did not talk about these babies most likely. Their siblings would not likely know about them if they were younger. Infant/maternity mortality rates during that time period where devastating...

At the beginning of the 20th century, for every 1000 live births, six to nine women in the United States died of pregnancy-related complications, and approximately 100 infants died before age 1 year (1,2). From 1915 through 1997, the infant mortality rate declined greater than 90% to 7.2 per 1000 live births, and from 1900 through 1997, the maternal mortality rate declined almost 99% to less than 0.1 reported death per 1000 live births (7.7 deaths per 100,000 live births in 1997) (3) (Figure 1 and Figure 2). courtesy of the CDC

so we lose less babies now, I guess. That doesn't really matter except that I guess somewhere in my thinking and knowing this I thought maybe people where stronger, more numb to this loss back then, pioneer blood still toughening skin, that kind of thing. That we are a more sensitive and enlightened generation.

Look at these tombstones, look at those flowers.

These little ones won't be forgotten. No matter how common their passing was, no matter how preoccupied, how poverty stricken, how many children followed, they won't be forgotten. They are remembered because they where tiny souls, seeds of hope, joy and grief solidly planted by their mother's hopes for them.

It all means something doesn't it? The taking and the giving. The mourning and the living.

There is something beautiful about this place to me. It's like a list of future neighbors in heaven, one tiny soul after the next sure to be gathered into arms, whole and healthy by a loving Father. A garden of wishes presented to our God.

Let me end like this. Thank you to the mama's I know who share this hope, who tend this garden. It is not an easy task to have but one God saw fit to bestow because of your green thumb, because He knew you would plant the seeds so lovingly. Before I would have looked here and only seen sadness but now because of you, God has sprouted something so very good in my own heart. Thank you.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Day 48, Kiwi is awesomeness.

Okay, so I did sight yesterday. Now I'm gonna do touch.

Kiwi or Scrubby Brush?

It does not feel like a hamster
so much as a balding plastic doll.
Rough and prickly but with the slightest
pressure you feel it's swollen goodness
bulging through the tough brown skin.
The heft of it is surprising, always feeling
twice as heavy as it looks. It's a kiss you weren't
expecting, one you say you didn't want
but liked. And you find yourself wondering
what to do, to put it down or indulge and
you look to see if anyone is watching.

Monday, October 4, 2010

Day 47, Do you know what my favorite fruit is?

Our senses...

Pick your favorite fruit or vegetable. We will go through all 5 sense this week and see if we can't combine it by Fri into one sequential poem. This is free verse and rough so just let the descriptive words fly and then tie them up neatly Fri. I'm doing sight today.

The Kiwi

the only food that reminds me of a hamster
it does not look tasty
fuzzy, chestnut brown, buxom, rotund
but when opened up
bright, glowing, glistening green
shiny black seeds
exterior and interior clashing
and complementing at the same time

Sunday, October 3, 2010

Day 46, Like Chocolate Cake

Went to a family reunion and had the most interesting mix of things. Family, a memorial and burial. People I had never met, food, food, food, four wheelers, tractors, WWII stories, sunsets and breezes, hugs and hope, so rich...

Like Chocolate Cake

Today was rich,
like dark chocolate
cake, that I did not want
but ate to be polite.
It had the taste of bittersweet cocoa
grief and glee, sanctuary and silliness.
Maybe too rich, too bitter,
too sweet, but scrumptious too.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

Day 45, Missing friends

Been missing one for 8 years now and a new one just left so I pulled up this old poem because I want some pumpkin spice lattes with my girls who are now in Alabama, dangit! :) love you Tara and Amy.

The Fall

I think of you in August
because that is when
you seem to come.

Light and sunshine
and warmth and laughter.
And I know that I will see the leaves fall
and the windy excitement of change
swirl around us as we sit watching the boys play.
Hot bodies and cold fingertips and halloween candy
All our best efforts to craft.

Life doesn't creep up on me then,
because I am remebering to hold it tightly
because I am with my friend
who loves me any old way I am and
understands me and my five year old
explicitly and my sheltered, inward life and
my neurosis and my need to show off
and my need to cry at nothing and
my need to talk when there is nothing
to talk about precisely.

The problem is when winter comes and the leaves fall
she retreats like a sand crab back to her northern, icy cold,quaint and far away life.
So I find myself looking towards the fall with leftover excitement
realizing I will have to hold all the chimney smoke
and cold rocks and crumpled leaves and
ghostly playground noises in myself. Letting them simmer into a pot of
something new. A bit like beef stew sans the beef.

Friday, October 1, 2010

Day 44, an honest poem.

An honest thought is a scary thought. I have blog friends that seem to be as honest as crystal mountain air. So honest it's deceiving. Down here in the humid stickiness of the south, honesty sticks to your back, like a silk shirt in a summer heat wave. We like honesty, but in little, proper doses. The why is complicated. It's a tiny bit of protecting your image and pride but a larger part of it is this, you pity someone that is having a bad day. There must be something wrong for something to go wrong. If you're in a bad mood or sad something must be off balance. So I don't say a lot, maybe express some frustration with the kids or the telephone company but I stop there. And that is okay but I thought, how about a poem about something honest, real, hard to admit? How about it? and no pity, I have a pretty great life, healthy kids, a good husband, nothing to pity at all. :)

Just Enough
it's the laundry
and the dishes
and bedtime, Oh sweet mercy,
bedtime! The husband needs you,
the kids need you, and you need you.
and you are so ever tired, weary,
irritable. On a good day
you wear a smile over your fatigue
and it feels like your grandmother's
lipstick, too dry, too bright, too thick.

the worst of it is the remorse.
wishing you had worn a smile on
your heart and not your face. the way
curse words your too nice to utter
pulse inside your mouth, fighting to
be free in a weak moment.

and you hold it back, looking
for the redo button, waiting to go to sleep
so that you can have it all under
your control in the morning.
and you say your prayers, whispering faintly
to the stars, you do love it, you do,
all of it, you've promised to,
so you promise Him, your gratitude
your energies, your faithfulness,
and you feel the mercy
spilling over, just enough.
always, just enough.