night quiet

sparkling snow
twinkling stars
glowing moon
just a sliver
of a crescent
smiling down
I grin back
snow glints
starlight
moonbeams
outside soothes
the ache inside

February 4, 2014

“It’s not the scary house anymore.”
I overheard a mother say this to her son on Halloween night from where I stood on the front porch holding a bowl of candy to give away. A moment later, the boy did walk up the driveway from the sidewalk and say, “Trick or Treat?” I gladly gave him treats and hope he’ll be back next year without the sidewalk hesitation. Like his mother said, that old designation is now put to rest once and for all. Getting there. Step by step. NOTE TO SELF: Get rid of all your old Halloween decorations. The ones you didn’t make time to put out this year.

January 12, 2014

I can’t make you

turquoisetangle:

I can’t make you

I wish I could

you’re bigger than me

I can’t stop you

you won’t listen

I won’t beg

do what you have to do

the door closes

I cry then

my eyes are dry now

no longer tired

I wonder

when you will come home

knowing that you will

I won’t call

you know the way

when you’re ready

come home

even though

I can’t make you

© 2011 Turquoise Tangles

That feeling when someone suddenly “Tumblr loves” something you wrote a few years ago. You reread it. Sigh deeply and cuss (just in your head). Somehow you nearly forgot. Does anyone else tag real life personal drama as, “creative writing” and hope the outer facade of reality doesn’t crack? No, me either. After tagging that way a few times my husband “called me on it” so I stopped. Stopped writing quite so honestly. Stopped tagging anything “creative writing.” Started talking about the dog, Blue, then just a puppy. A lot. Time flies. Speed varies. I’ve logged nearly 1,000 posts here at Tumblr since joining in November 2011. Poems. Photographs. Stories. Quotes. Reblogs. All tweeted too, if you’re counting. The best, most interesting, jaw dropping, heart aching, twisting, tugging, wrenching, soaring writing from the past several years has all been done behind the scenes. Just in case you’re wondering, this poem, written on a long ago night, was foreshadowing. I’m glad I was brave enough to write it and say it at the time. I still remember the fight. Faded. Fading. Letting go. We were fire and fire, fire and ice, hot and cold. Yet, we ended “just right.” We came through the fire, all pride set aside, and we loved with our walls down for the very first time.

January 6, 2014

like a river

My words. They are pouring out of me right now. Pouring forth at all hours of the day and night. I need to channel them, like water flowing between the banks of a river, but mostly, I just have to write them.

January 3, 2014
Excerpt from an email I sent earlier this morning. Here is the email time stamp, stating date and time, “On Fri, Jan 3, 2014 at 10:07 AM.”

bedtime

sent my boys to bed hours ago
stayed up for quiet time
love seat dozed
lulled by ticking clock
soothed by wind chimes
chiming from back deck
woke up enough
to decide to go to bed
took Blue out fast
wore my fuzzy slippers
the night sky is clear
the moon and stars are bright
saw Orion
smiled
hustled back inside
the wind is blowing
like it’s going to storm
I haven’t checked radar
just an intuition forecast
that, and I saw a sundog in the sky today
driving my oldest boy home from school
a rainbow in a cloud
I love those
I never think they are saying, “rain is coming”
I think they are a gift from God saying, “My promises are real. My covenants, like the rainbow I gave Noah, to say I’ll never destroy the Earth by water, ever again. Trust Me. I got this.”
fanciful perhaps
but it works for me
even if rain follows too
I love rain
it soothes me
as does being cozy, warm inside my home, listening to the blowing, gust of the wind, not worrying over rain, sleet or snow one bit, because there is a new roof now, in gorgeous burnt sienna shingles
win-win
no matter what
happy thoughts
as I finally tuck into bed
a l’il after 1:00am

November 14, 2013

Chicken Italiano laughs

Supper was nice. The three of us sat down to eat. Then, my oldest son spilled half his drink onto his plate. I was glad I cooked a bunch o’noodles because there was plenty to dish up more. Erin, my friend since second grade, and my mother remember the story I told next… About the night I made crockpot Chicken Italiano long ago, a nice supper. I can’t recall the year right now, but my oldest son cried all through supper about it being, “the worst day ever” because we expected him to taste/try the delicious food I’d made. My husband picked out all the tomato chunks out of the pasta sauce and left them on his plate. Then my youngest son accidentally spilled his ice water into his dad’s lap, at which point my husband’s plate, with uneaten tomato chunks, flipped into the sliding glass door blinds. I made a nice supper!!!! This is what happened instead that night. I remember. The boys laughed tonight in the retelling. There is more to the story, but it is a Blue-emergency. Today was/is A Good One. Best of all, it’s not over yet.

October 2, 2013