Quote For The Day

“If you find your hair smells like popcorn, it might be time to retire the hair dryer.”

florence ondré

Quote For The Day

“Some changes look negative on the surface but you will soon realize that space is being created in your life for something new to emerge.”
– Eckhart Tolle

Day In Haiku

Less pain,  more movement

Stretching, what  luxury of

Body, mind, spirit

Mirror Warp

by florence ondré

 

We are all waiting.

For healing homes and hearts

We are all waiting

While insurance companies and banks and our government drag their recalcitrant feet; confuse people in need with one new version of fiction after another and do the crazy making dance of prestidigitation with shell game velocity…in a now you see what you know are facts or words told of help coming…and mostly now you don’t

We are all waiting

For realistic and compassionate  and timely  aid

We are all waiting

Never told truth, these greedy, self centered and dense persons and corporations say, while you twist in the wind, or mire down in the xerox multiples of mountains of paper work, which they over and over conveniently lose or claim you did not send, one hears perverted procrastination

They say they are waiting.

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Daffy About The Dills

Brazen bright delight

Sunning themselves like bountiful buttery flies

Akin to the postal service legend

Neither rain nor sleet nor snow

Keeps these blossoms from their appointed rounds

In every inch of earth in which they can and do dig their roots

They hold on and up in the winds

Hanging on with bulbous feathered feet

Humans and squirrels have planted

And replanted this sprinkling of sunshine on lush green Spring palette

Waving pointed petals, they seem to say

Why should we bow our heads to anyone or anything

Be it snowfall or ice balls peppering our plumes

We are here

Having pushed our hardy stems upward toward the light

Proclaiming we are light ourselves

We will not be denied

We are pure post winter perfection

Towering in pots and plots

Over barely budding hyacinth pinks and tony tulips

We are strong

Here at last

Again

As before

And before

Springing refreshing hope from darkness to light

We of the curious appellation are joy!

A smile from Mother Earth to all.

The Gratitude Pool

Jumping back into writing….not.

Just dipping a toe in the inkwell and seeing what dribs and drabs onto the page.

Still in limbo in life and edging the hem of my life’s garment with trepidation and timidity for fear that inches over the edge may take the muzzle off my mouth and  I may never stop shouting at the stupidity deluging us all with no help for those who need help; for victimizing victims and for the insensitivity toward the immeasurable suffering of the thousands of people who lived through one of the greatest national disasters to befall this country in over a hundred years.

My new heroine is a woman in Long Beach, New York, who actually went out into the cold of the day and wrapped her devastated home in tape….red tape.

For this honesty and expression of reality, I am grateful.

She speaks for us all eloquently and helps maintain our sense of humor in a humorless present plight.

Mayhaps my next trip to Home Depot or Lowes, might have a bit of coin of the realm spent to make a cherry colored purchase.

 

Day In Haiku- Happy Spring

Take a look outside

Giant  snowflakes are falling

Nope. Now they’re ice balls!

Quote For The Day

“Just because you meet a person who name is Angel, doesn’t mean they are one.”

florence ondré

said after getting hopes up that a fema agent with this appellation might actually be helpful or sent from heaven in the midst of the hell of hurricane sandy’s aftermath.

Wearin’ O’ The Green

by florence ondré

Softly underfoot; wrapping the hills and yards with velvet,  green, green grass of home in the Emerald City of Seattle and rolling over the mountains and valleys of Pacific Northwest Washington state; vibrant as the land of Erin, shrubs and trees leafing myriad shades jade.olive, forest, lime and emerald calm the tattered and tired soul of this hurricane flood survivor.

The quiet of soft and slate greys above and the profusion of lushness of rebirth and earth abundance all around, say, “Rest ye weary traveler. Shrug your cares off  exhausted shoulders.  Take your time. Bear no burdens this day.”

Mother Earth is sporting the brightest and the best of verdant holiday wear and smiling healing all around.

With eyes, heart and soul filled to the brim with gratitude and peace,  my neighbor calls and brings a hug, a laugh and a warm platter of her homemade corned beef and cabbage for us.  What else could follow such satiation….. than a nap?!

Thanks Angels.  Thanks Monika.

Zzzzzzzzzz.

See you on the flip side!

Because Of Betty…

by florence ondré

 

My thanks to Betty who moved me along

And told me not writing was totally wrong

Betty, a writer with comedy flair,

Noodged and reminded with strength and with care

That now was the time to pull myself through

And think of my readers of more than a few

Who hadn’t seen nary a word in a while

Who savored my stories; enjoying my style

“You haven’t been writing,” she waggled her finger

“We go to your blog when we’re wanting to linger

And what do we find there but current blank pages

You’ve got stories to tell us. Don’t make us wait ages

For something happening; something new

From your experiences and inner view

Paintings of words, broad strokes, fine lines

All relatable in designs

Which weave your readers with common thread

Give us something soon,” she said.

So, here I sit with her in mind

Her forthright words ringing kind

For this woman, writer, colleague, friend

Has helped me stretch again and mend

An apathy becoming trend

By simply stating truth and fact

Not reticent or playing tact

She teased at first then flat out tackled

The nuts and bolts until  I cackled

“OK OK, your point’s well taken

I’ll write again; no lie; no fakin'”

It’s true my life’s turned upside down

With loss of home and flood wrecked town

I’ve hit a silence; gone to ground

It’s taking time to come around

To find an equilibrium

Which at the present’s yet to come

At sixes and sevens, am all asea

Am captive and yet strangely free

For with great loss comes gifts not known

One stands on ground uncommon; grouped; alone

Silence has been necessity

With blinders gone, new eyes do see

What’s important; who is true

Where to let go; what one must do

If any deed has need at all

Of doings large or doings small

Pondering, I ask this question

Regarding action or secession

Might ceasing be the best of ways

To lighten brutal, icy days

Of toil, survival and frustration

Lack of control; victimization

Waiting endlessly for aid

Empty promises; rights unpaid

I’m but a bit of people’s pain

Among the thousands without gain

Of former faith and dignity

In a dearth of honorability

And yet within, there is a light

To take us all beyond this fight

For rebuilding and reclaiming

Past these ponderous paths of shaming

“Stay strong!” we hear and yet I falter

Before a devastated  altar

The magnitude both awes; astounds

And courage shifts on sandy grounds

What shall I write when life’s been gutted

Where every road is gouged and rutted

When breathing is a toxic task

Health now shrinks behind a mask

And water is a chancey drink

To wash, one has to double think

I miss the green so desperately

No Spring of colored shrub or tree

This year is fraught with death and dearth

And grief for what is gone from Earth

Honor for community

Patience and civility

The energy is caustic hard

Unceasing noises yard to yard

Grating what is left of skin

Gone is home and myth of kin

And yet there are these points of light

People who dig in and fight

And pull us up as we slide and fall

To them I pass the clarion call

When I cannot lift my head or shout

I’m grateful I can look about

And find in unexpected places

Champions who take up the traces

Of those of us who weary worn

Find ourselves of voices shorn

Dimmed;  diminished by the weight

Of unprecedented freight

Of unrelenting unfairness

Lack of senses; carelessness

No whit of sensitivity

We cry for creativity

And wring each dime which is our due

To build again; our homes renew

While insurance companies and banks renege

Government takes back each word

Leaving the very ones they owe

A burnt and barren row to hoe

It breaks my heart and bends my faith

This bearing witness like a wraith

Near unseen yet closely tethered

To the masses greyly weathered

I am not the same, yet I am here

In the dense surrounding fear

Palpable while almost gone

Everyone and all alone

Each one intent on solo deeds

A must for sheer survival needs

Makes for coming apart together

I and we edge each endeavor

Well, dear Betty, you got me going

Now the ink has started flowing

To you I extend my gratitude

While winds shift all attitude

And though there is no end in sight

In this complicated plight

Through every challenge hourly thrown

Still forward we wade into the unknown