Tag Archives: love

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Sorrow

I used to stop by more

but the people were less and less

the interactions faded to grey

I didn’t feel loved

I used to be ok with that

not feeling loved

not feeling valued

but now I want to be loved

And I am loved, to my surprise

as if a little love

has opened longing

so that I want more love


I want to be loved and feel loved

I send everyone love

even those who have been mean

and the incessant downvoters

and those who have me blocked

or don’t answer or ignore

or leave the catbox when I show up

I send love to you too


but now that I have a small crack

of love in my life, like the sun

shining on a crack in concrete

the seed stirs in sun and water

and grows

written 12/26/17. I wrote this about another writing site. It is falling to bits, like a old building not maintained. It makes me sad, because it is where my sister used to write. She died in 2012 and I still often miss her.

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One must go through the water.

One must go through the water.

One might choose not
avoid
there are ways to avoid feelings

Another one might choose not

I let go
and fall
and the water closes over my head
and I let myself sink
all the way down

even
if I am over
a deep trench

once down
once deep

I open my eyes
and let my breath out
and let the deep rush in

I don’t know why
people avoid this place
it is dangerous
but so beautiful
the darkness
with beings that glow

some attack
of course

but I too am a monster
bare my fangs
and receive respect
or fear

or friendship

I am very safe here
it is so familiar
in the deep

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Neither am I

you are so beautiful
I love you so much
and I see you

so clearly

I look at you
I wish
you could see me

you see the darkness
the bear
you carry with you
and project
on me

you hold the bear
at a distance
you see it
all the time
in other people

when the bear comes
I hold open my arms
and welcome it
and I don’t yell

the bear roars
with dripping teeth
tries to terrify me

and I reach for it

me too
I say
come meet
my monsters

all my monsters
anger fear grief
shame
come out

the bear
stares at them

they hold out
their arms

the bear bows
his head
and we surround him
and welcome him
and love him

the bear cries

because you don’t love him

the bear cries
and cries and cries

we hold the bear
and cuddle him
and feed him
and try to warm him
and do the best we can

but we are not you

you come towards me
seeing the bear
fortified by my monsters
you attack

and my monsters hide
and hide your bear

and you stand
sword ready
to split us apart

confused
where is the bear?

you are sure
you see a bear
but it is gone
and I am a little girl

the naked sword is raised
the gun is loaded
you and weapons ready

no bear

you lower the gun
the sword
and make excuses
and leave

and the bear
hugs us all
thanks us

as you leave
the bear walks faster
nearly a shambling run
and dissolves into you

we wave
my monsters and I
we wave goodbye again
send love
to you and your bear

Over the Rhine: All of My Favorite People are Broken, credit: https://www.flickr.com/photos/31683793@N07/collections/72157628647320299/

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: myopic.

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saved

when your parents die
you will find what they saved

you will find things in the house
that you do not know why they saved

you may find linens carefully folded
and papers from the past

the linens embroidered by ancestors
but you cannot ask which ones

photographs of people you don’t know
and which are not labeled

a reference to a ring that your great aunt had
but she has been dead since 1986

when you go to your parents’ house
ask them what they have saved

ask them why it has been saved

ask them now
because when they are gone
it is too late

to ask about what they saved

________________________

There are also families estranged, where they have cut ties or emigrated or escaped abuse, and have reason not to save anything or speak about it.

We want freedom but we want love too. For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: freedom.

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Four seasons

These are etchings by my mother, Helen Burling Ottaway, who died in 2000.

All four are done with the same etching plate.

Winter is done first. The zinc plate is covered with a protective layer and then she draws with tools, including dental tools. The plate is placed in an acid bath. The acid etches where the drawings are, different depths. The protective layer is removed. The plate is inked. Most of the ink is gently wiped off and the plate is placed on the press. Wet paper is laid on the plate and the heavy wool covers are folded down over that. The press is run. The wool is folded back on the other side and the paper is lifted and laid to dry.

The plate is re inked for each one.

She puts the protective cover back on the plate and adds the buds for spring. These are etched. Winter is now gone, the plate has changed. She prints all of the spring series.

Next is summer. Leaves are added. She prints those.

Last is autumn. Now there are leaves on the ground as well. She does some the plates with more than one ink color. This was one of her largest etchings. She did a small series first, where the etchings were about 4 by 6 inches. This was 18 by 24. She had a really big etching press. I don’t know who has it, my sister took it to California and it disappeared.

I have the etchings and I have all the plates. I can’t run this series, I could only run autumn. I grew up surrounded by my mother doing art, etchings, watercolors, oils, lithography, a constant sketchbook and crafts. I took a painting class a few years ago. The instructor says, “Acrylics are NOT watercolors.” I reply, “I know how to DO watercolors.” I was being quite creative with the acrylics only I automatically used the watercolor techniques that I grew up with.

The photograph doesn’t really do them justice. I will have to take some more. Plus I have her slides in some of the boxes left from when my father died. More cataloging.

Blessings and good memories of my mother.

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Boa waiting

Boa Black would often wait in the yard, watching. What was she waiting for?

These:

Boa really liked the fawns. She would wait and watch the path into my second lot.

I have a 1930 house and a 1930 garage. The garage is on the lot line and one side extends five feet into a second lot, that is set at 90 degrees to the house lot. I quit mowing the second lot when I was divorced, working, and had two kids. I talked to the neighbors on the block and no one objected. The lot is hidden from the road by a huge bank of rosa rugosa.

The deer have used the lot in some years to stash young fawns while they made their rounds.

This is taken with a 26X zoom, so the fawn saw me but did not get spooked. Actually the fawn was hopping around in the second lot and managed to look guilty when I first saw it. Uh-oh, mom told me to stay hidden. It lay down and tried to pretend it had been behaving the entire time.

Boa Cat died in early 2020, after 17 years with me, a kitten from the pound. In memorium.

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Ms Bun

I get Ms Bun and the blanket from my church silent auction fundraiser. She did not have many bids, so I bid on her.

When I get her, I wonder who to give her to.

I am gone for two weeks, with a cat sitter coming in daily. The cats are bigger but still kittens. They are amazed when I get home. They are so surprised. I get the impression that they thought I was gone forever.

They are even more delighted when I go to bed. They purr and purr and purr. I am staying! They are very happy.

Today I have to get groceries. When I return, I see who Ms Bun is for. She helps take care of the cats when I am not here, and they both cuddle in her lap.

Welcome, Ms. Bun.

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sweep

sweep through the woods
sweep past the forest
the car winds along the road
we are warm inside

new broom sweep clean
new years starts again
old broom used and worn
old year illness torn

new broom brought to floor
new year contemplated
old broom set aside
old year must abide

new broom awkward feel
new year challenge real
old broom may have use
old year research truth

__________________________

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt.