thanks to people’s generosity, max’s friend has a round trip ticket for the holidays
top left (Christmas 2017, max’s beautiful sister Caroline holding Mojo the wiener dog and to the right – max)
bottom right (max’s 2017 high school graduation snap)
dancing in a deluge
freezing wet arrows pierce your body
could go exploring in the rain
determined to the ends of the earth
driven to the bottom of the oceans
like a wide-eyed child
for a meaningful destiny
you don’t accept plain living
a grand enough purpose
even after the cold water
has cleared your vision
and washed the mud off your face
wide-eyed previously published
so this is what it feels like
not so bad
I can ride this out
my Harley is jacked
chiseled with painted flames
and gassed up
plan on doing the 218
you know, the black zigzag along the Hudson
when me and the Harley squeeze
the sharpest cliffs and steepest drop
I’m gonna leap off the saddle
and let that tricked-out bike fly solo
there goes my pain
crashing with mortal heat
into the frigid river
Thoughts to Nepal – may the death toll stop rising and the injured get the help they need
I recall two special people every April,
like a pair of sad-eyed jacks –
and my friend, Mary.
I dream of Lincoln sometimes,
a long voice burning in my head brighter than any bullet.
And my friend Mary.
I met Mary many, many years ago.
She always wore silver hair and a smile
and sipped tea from bone-colored porcelain ware.
That’s what I remember.
Her invitations to tea.
Her framed mantle photos.
Mary’s stories lived in the folds of her face.
Her most prized story floated
in the crinkled waves around her ocean eyes.
While my clumsy fingers fumbled through the handle
of a delicate porcelain tea cup.
Mary told me ‘the’ story at our very first tea,
A young man and his childhood friend were to travel to another country. They planned to find dearest loves and build dream homes. When the auspicious morning arrived, the young man’s travel companion was nowhere in sight. With no appearance by his friend, the young man made a difficult choice. He watched the steamship sally forth toward the horizon and away from him. Gravely disappointed was he to miss the once-in-a-lifetime, maiden voyage of the luxurious RMS Titanic. The young man did eventually meet Mary. And they fell in love. They had ten children. Their children had forty-eight children.
Mary is gone now.
Has been for quite sometime.
But there is always this week in April,
I fondly remember
and my sweet, departed friend Mary.
Shortly before midnight of April 14, 1912, the RMS Titanic struck an iceberg, at 2:20 am the ship went below the water.
Abraham Lincoln – born February 12, 1809, died April 15, 1865
Dark Nana acrylic on illustration board done many, many years ago before I required eyeglasses.
This blog of mine has been through several iterations. While returning from a self-hosted site back to WordPress, many older posts were lost in translation. I’m going to use Sunday evenings to rework, repair and repost some of my favorite 2014 efforts. I hope you don’t mind blogging down Memory Lane with me. If you haven’t read before, I hope you enjoy.
The ‘Annagement’ (sorry couldn’t resist)
Hello Dollies, Please Don’t Hurt Us
(originally posted 4/15/14)
Returning home from a lovely garden journey, the giant husband and I happened upon an old-timer’s flea market. A pair of cigarette-smoking, timeworn vendors stood outside like cement lions. They wore pensive smiles while observing curious browsers.
The market’s outdoor portion consisted of a few makeshift tables loaded with lopsided frames, 1950’s tools, hat boxes… The indoor portion was housed in a dilapidated and dank-smelling barn that had seen better days. The giant husband and I strapped on our big-boy coveralls and entered the jittery building.
Beside the usual flea market fare of old records, fringed lamps, mildewed books, chipped dinnerware and broken Tonka toys there were boxes of dead dolls. I can’t think of anything more blood-curdling than little plastic people. Dolls used to scare the crap out of me when I was a kid, now they were back to haunt me.
These dolls were broken-hearted. Their tiny scratched lips whispered how long they’d lived without a warm embrace.
They’d been abandoned then forgotten…
The dolls choked on satin visages of yesteryear. Long ago, they’d been precious…
Eyes once marble-bright were now marred dull like the fabric tears of stuffed clowns…
The giant husband and I had to look away from the pained grimaces.
But the most frightening thing of all was when a little sinister man-doll attempted to steal the giant husband’s soul…
Thank you. May you dream of happy dolls in warm homes.
All photos taken in April 2014 with iPhone. I’ve made it a personal goal to attempt art for every post, some earlier posts in 2014 have only photos.
Since admitting to brain tattoos, I’ll admit one more grey matter item: I mind travel. Mind traveling is out of necessity. The giant husband works six days a week (someone has to tend trees and plants for the universe). At present, long distance trips are difficult. Once the delicate daughter and big son go off to college – just a few short years away – we plan on doing some serious traveling. We are going to leave the upper right side of the United States map, assuming we’re both still present and accounted for on earth… So here’s to planes, trains and winning Powerball!
Thank you. May you dream of pristine sailing vessels, five-star jets, luxury trains and winning the lottery…
Traveling Man created after receiving ‘free’ cruise coupon in the mail.