“If you find your hair smells like popcorn, it might be time to retire the hair dryer.”
florence ondré
“If you find your hair smells like popcorn, it might be time to retire the hair dryer.”
florence ondré
“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
Less pain, more movement
Stretching, what luxury of
Body, mind, spirit
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.
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.
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.
Take a look outside
Giant snowflakes are falling
Nope. Now they’re ice balls!
“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.
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!
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