Novel

Our lives get interwoven

Into many different stories.

We are a page or two to some

Or a chapter in another’s.

Many tales make us who we are;

Some pages tear stained,

Some wrinkled with laughter,

All gilded in gold.

On days like today,

Two lives blend together

Into a promise of many pages

That will yield a novel.

The words written forward

From this promise till eternity

Tell boldly, the unique drama

Of loving and living, happily together.

Blueprints

The foundation is made of

One part love, one part trust

And two parts of each other.

Mix well.

Walls are built with sturdy planks

Of  kindness and faith

For they insulate against the storms.

The roof is caring

Shingled with determination

Nailed down with a promise.

Windows and doors are needed.

The more the better.

A well lit open-air floor plan

Keeps it fresh and clean.

And a fire place is built

To keep the passion aflame

For this will warm the house

Forever.

Dreams must be wired throughout

and be kept up to code,

So the house will provide

the energy to be and do.

The decor is made of many things collected.

Laughs and smiles, tears and heartaches,

Hugs, jokes, prayers, and kisses

Add the right touch.

While quiet moments and cleansing words

Sweep away any dormant dust.

No, there is not any blueprint to look upon

There’s only a stockyard of supplies

From family, friends and God above.

The work and the comfort

Are to the husband and wife

To build and nurture a happy life.

Pounded

Pounded.

Digital images

of artificial worlds,

perfect people,

and white teeth

Pounded.

Serious faces

spew grim realities

of a world

of gray.

Pounded.

Allies say

it’s “them.”

We need to rebel

against rules.

Pounded.

Many individuals

collaborate against

the trend,

“Do it our way.”

Pounded.

Uncertain thoughts

within your head

What is right, wrong?

What is.

Pounded.

with hammers

on the soul

until weak.

Hope is depleted,

falling.

Pounded.

To the core

of being

where life sparks

and surges.

Pounded

to the dense

Essence that

will not just

sigh.

Pounded,

yet not failing.

Clawing back

to see and

stand.

Pounded

on the surface.

Strong inside,

Living,

Being.

Jump in the Lake

A cool day in July,

Breezy, bright, and bold.

A Great Lake ahead,

Michigan, waves inviting.

A young woman,

scars on her body, stands

A warrior, battles fought,

Freedom reborn in the water.

A jump in the lake,

Victory washes in waves.

An act of simple joy

is her celebration of life.

From the Heart

To sing well, she taught, “From the diaphragm.”

Let the air fill your lungs and resonate from there.

To sing, she instructed, “Open and project.”

One should hear clear crisp words of the song.

Yet, in my opinion, with a warm, patient smile,

And a glint in her eye, she said, “Sing from the heart.”

Many young voices, whether solo or quartet,

Duet or choir, learned from her skill and knowledge.

And as they stood on stage, group or alone.

She accompanied them with her piano and grace.

She sent them courage through the keys and direction.

Passion to sing, that was sent straight from the heart.

Now, with many years in and many songs sung,

Many lives impacted and many dreams chased,

The lights dim on a stage and notes softly echo

A promise that her melody will always live on.

Her music career is a crescendo of voices that sing,

Like her, with life, with love, in harmony, from the heart.

My Princess

At three, she danced in the hall, ribbons and frills.

At six, she wore a lion costume and carried a lightsaber.

At twelve, she tackled and bumped on the soccer field.

At eighteen she, well….

No, not the woe is me, sigh melodrama role

More of the strong minded, Golde in town

Or the passionate Mrs. Darbus on stage.

No, not one to sit dreamily in a tower.

More of a get into a plane, start the engine,

And fly around the world with a grin.

No, not one to write sappy notes of castles.

More of a sassy verbal quip, speak your mind,

Fill in the hole and make a park kind of girl.

No, not one to sleep waiting for prince.

More of a “Someone got to save our skins.

Into the garbage chute flyboy.”

            ….well, she is that lion who roars.

She is the Jedi that fights with bright eyes.

She is that risk taker, that fighter, that warrior.

And, yeah, she is everything. She is my princess.

Be

Prepping. Blocking. Understanding.

  The characters’ motivation?

    Got to build, create a life...Be.

Finding a voice...voices...the voices.

   And the emotion...sad...angry/sad

     A little more gravel in the throat?

   Maybe a tad higher in pitch.

    Ah...rush the words, pause, slow.

Blocking, movement, with purpose but natural

   Yes. Heavy footsteps here. Sulking.

      And here, younger, skipping? Perky.

   A laugh before the tears, let the face fall.

And so it goes.

Tournament day. Cubes, chairs and bags

    crash the halls and cafeteria.

Find a place, talk to the wall, motions subdued.

     Out in the open, a fraternity of drama masks.

Round is assembled. Friendly eyes,

   Thespians united, talent recognized.

   Fears boxed away. Courage to the sticking place.

“Judges and timer ready?”

Put my head down and close my eyes.

   Where is my place?

        Is that the judge that doesn’t like me?

    Draw 5 is cute.

One…

   What’s my first line?

        Pizza? Do they have pizza?

    Did I really break into finals?

Two…

     How did I get pulled into this?

     Breathe

   Nothing...empty my mind.

Chin up. Eyes open.

                     …….Be!