My Novels

Thursday, February 14, 2013

Valentine's Day Poem

Mad Girl's Love Song

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

---By Sylvia Plath (One of my all-time favorite poets!)

Tuesday, February 05, 2013

A Red Balloon

What is new?

Nothing much here. It's that time of year when you want to crawl into solitude, hibernate like the bears.

Though I walk the dogs every day, otherwise I stay indoors and contemplate spring -- my favorite season. It can't get here soon enough for me.

I have finalized the plot where my and late husband's ashes will be buried. Right beside my dear grandmother in the cemetery on land deeded to the church by my great-uncle. I still haven't planned the memorial for myself, but will as soon as the funeral home representative gets over shingles.
She's had a hard time: first she had to have emergency gallbladder surgery. And then she came down with shingles. At any rate, I will be glad to get the details of my cremation/memorial set, and put it out of my mind. One less thing my family will have to do after my death.

Now I want to close with a poem I've always felt describes why abused and/or impoverished children (including myself) never really escape what has happened to them in childhood.


I always wanted a red balloon,
It only cost a dime,
But Ma said it was risky,
They broke so quickly
And besides, she didn't have time;
And even if she did, she didn't
Think they were worth a dime.
We lived on a farm, and I only went
To one circus and fair,
And all the balloons I ever saw
Were there.
There were yellow ones and blue ones,
But the kind I liked best
Were red and I don't see why
She couldn't have stopped and said
That maybe I could have one --
But she didn't -- I suppose that now
You can buy them anywheres,
And that they still sell red ones
At circuses and fairs.
I got a little money saved;
I got a lot of time,
I got no one to tell me how to spend my dime;
Plenty of balloons -- but somehow
There's something died inside of me,
And I don't want one -- now.

                            --Jill Spargur