Enjoy this small preview. My goal is to publish it by 6/16/21, my mother’s birthday.
Glancing over at the bronze bird statue, she feels connected.
To what once was a foreign country and people.
…. Now beating as one despite the ocean waves.
Remembering that cool, crisp day in Wales evokes tenderness.
Why did she walk into that thrift shop?
Why not the one across the street or the other…or the other?
Did that bird summon her that June summer day?
Were the sun’s rays directing her steps?
Peacefully writing in her home months later, she NOW is sure.
…The bronze statue’s wings miraculously wrapped ‘round them that day.
Fluttering and weaving kindred spirits together as if summoned by the Holy Spirit.
Two strangers earlier in the day were now soul sisters.
Today, no longer miles and miles apart, but one with their souls.
And YES, the Holy Spirit reigned then as it does now.
8/24/2019
This poem was inspired by new friends I met while I visited Rose’s town of Holyhead, Wales. I will never forget walking into Rose Quilty Martin’s shop that early cool morning. We were looking for a cab to take us up to the famous lighthouse (Southstack) and when we walked in, I felt an immediate kinship with her.
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“Prince”
He struts unto the glitter-laden floor.
Flesh embodied in lace… revealing muscle and finesse. Sending rays of lust amongst many.
Telling the world, he is king.
His fragile smile and deeply set eyes are unique…
Setting my heart, a-flutter.
Reminding me of beautiful isles.
Taking me to him… my fantasy… my reality.
Everything else vanishes… into the crowd, into the night, into space and into me.
Leaving me content in ecstasy with him… you… my Prince.
— 28 January 1985
Written as I watched the Grammys. Prince, one of my favorite poets came out to accept one of his 3 Grammys that year and I felt compelled to write this poem. Sadly in 2016, 31 years later, he would die after ingesting a counterfeit painkiller that was laced with fentanyl, according to a Minnesota prosecutor. He had lifelong hip pain but due to his religious beliefs, he did not believe in blood transfusions and why he never agreed to have corrective surgery.
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“Kindred Spirits atop Life’s Mountain”
Through the years, an uncanny bond exists.
—-both dreamers, realists, lovers of life and Mother Nature.
—both spirit-filled and bohemians at heart.
She ravaging the page, he using his quill.
She sharing of “the angels I’ve met along the way,” he building “the wall around the forest.”
She sailing the azure seas, he telling of nature trails amidst the pines.
Through the years, their friendship has endured…despite the in-betweens.
Amorous at times, funny at others, always inspiring one to another.
“Fantasizing is an avenue to unwind,” he says.
“Yes, my friend, living in my dreams is my go-to life.”
Through the years, an uncanny bond… (That only God understands) continues.
Isn’t time not a reality but merely a concept, or a measure?
So said the Greek orator, Antiphon?
Tis true. Time stands still when spirits are a-kindred!
Inspired by my relationship with Jerry Lane, a fellow author. We met at a dating site many years ago and recently (in 2020) we rekindled our friendship. I give thanks for him daily.