Sheila's Guests and Reviews

http://katherinescorner.com At ten I dreamed perhaps I'd be a teen, and double figures not enough to comfort me. At twenty, now I'd learned somehow those teen years really couldn't be all they're cracked up to be. At thirty, married, kids and harried, chasing through the years and tears that trucked and parried me... At forty life begins, they said so leave behind the things , and overhead the airplane bins fall open. Fifty, scared and thrifty. Coming soon, retirement, nifty dream I thought, but how? And sixty's dark desire to live again won't comfort me. At ten pm I guess I'll dream, and then... I was meant to write a blogpost about how I feel, blogging at that certain (getting ever more certain) age. But then I wrote a poem about how I feel as that certain (scary) age approaches, so I hope that's okay. As to how I feel about blogging, can someone please tell me why hours as well as clothes ...

Falling The gaze of a mother to child at her breast Falling the infant that’s learning to walk Calling and crying and learning to talk Shifting and sighing, a mother’s gaze falls To the child, to the child who has left. Falling The leaf that was green growing red on the tree Falling the season of warm into cold Calling and sighing the birds are grown old All migrating, the leaf oh so gently now falls Not so late, not too late to be free. Falling In bad ways, in troubles, in pain and in loss. Falling from grace was the infant grown old Calling for mercy the infant grown bold Mercy denied him, a mother’s gaze falls To the child, to the child, to the cost. Falling after the Fall.

Kimberly Blackader has included one of my poems on her Poetry for Easter page. I've put another Easter poem on my Drabble page. And here's a poem I wrote earlier this week, to go with this picture of the cross from church--a cross that changes from gray and lifeless at the start of the service to a symbol of beauty and hope. This day you will be with me, the Savior said To the stranger at his side Together they died. In Paradise the angels sang for joy And we wondered why. I’m guilty said the thief, you’re innocent. This day you will be with me In Paradise. The day I die I hope the angels sing With joy for me. The ones who had betrayed him fled and cried The one to kill himself. This day you will Be forgiven the Savior said, the other survived To Paradise. So I who have betrayed him, I who live While savior dies for me I will survive This day I will be with him in Paradise The day I die. So I who weep tonight, deserving ill Am rescued still by him Who died for me. So ...

He crashed the saucepan lids with wild delight Splashing the night with sound. We wondered How did he get down there? He fashioned toys from unwashed socks And smashed the locks on doors then lashed In anger. Life’s not fair. But when the memory turns and burns There’s ashes in the air. With toy guns flashing fearful flame and fire His rash desires forgiven, he wore A sash made from a sheet, Then fashioned ghosts, holes gashed for eyes, Dashed in disguise behind and tumbled Tangled guns and feet. But when the memory turns and burns There’s ashes in the air. He slashed the sword of duty from its frame Unabashed game of war turned real How did he end up there? Uncashed the untold hopes he knew Brash dreams of youth bent down and bashed And mashed into despair. For when the memory turns and burns There’s ashes in the air.

Two suitcases, two pillows, five boxes and one that's got books in computer's all packed and he's gone. So will he remember and get to his classes on time will he file applications and plan for his future while I'm feeling curiously sad for the boy's grown to man and lives out of two suitcases gone.

Off to the airport, saying goodbye, waiting lines stretching from here to the sky, stuffed dogs and real dogs and children that cry; he's flying; I'm saying goodbye. I saw my son off on the plane this morning, and I'm missing him already. The lines were incredible, but at least he made his plane.