Watching the grand kids at play is a wonderful experience at moments when our life needs a little excitement, don’t you think? Back to pretend land and the fascination of our youth. Have a great day!
The ‘Volcano Sistas’
Though four, they wander like most youngsters do
and you wonder just what is about to ensue,
when two little minds are playing their games
in faraway places…. only they know the names.
Though deep in their world, they know you are there
watching them play from your nice, comfy chair,
and ever so often they’ll give you a glance,
then return to their ‘place’ in a fairy-like dance.
They talk in strange voices of differing pitch
befitting of fairies or a wicked old witch.
They dress up in clothes matching each different mood
as they drink pretend tea that they’ve recently brewed.
They come up with names right out of the air;
a name that goes well with a girl in orange hair.
And they banter and barter in their magical play
in the faraway places…. they go to each day.
When it’s time to interrupt ‘cause their lunch time is near,
they freeze for a moment, not completely cohere.
Each differently thinking of what they should do
then hand-in-hand dance…. through fairy portal, to you.
And when you address them and call them by name
a mistake you have made and they’re quick to exclaim
they’ve come from far places and rode many twistas
and they’re not Jude and Zoe….they’re the ‘Volcano Sistas.’
© copyright 2013 t. j. gargano
Filed under beauty, dolls, dream, fairy, fairy tale, Family, Friends, God, grandchildren, heart, kids, Life, Love, mental health, mind, people, poetry, young girls
Beauty, at first look, seems unfair in the way it has ‘sprinkled’ its charms over everything in life. It often provokes the jealousies of life conjuring up ‘wishes’ in the multitudes of those less blessed, in their minds, by her swishing wand. But we fail to understand how many faces beauty really has and, in this oversight, don’t realize what beauties each of us might have. Usually, we don’t seem to have the ones we want. So we have to go with what we have and depend on others to find the beauty in us. I know my glimpses of beauty have often been criticized by other eyes but I always remember what someone once said……beauty is in the eyes of the beholder…….how beautiful that is.
Thanks for visiting……I’m positive you are a beautiful person!
From where does it come such beauty fair
that splashes on some….not all?
And has no rules, making some despair
the dreadful fate that did befall
to them when beauty’s wand did swing
over everything in life that is
but didn’t reach far enough, over them
but with sprinkles of only fizz.
Why do we compare our portion of
the beauty that’s spread in life
covering the world like brotherly love
like a salve to ease our strife
that helps us make our journey be
more pleasant when we fall
and helps us all to understand
the ‘picture’ on the wall.?
It’s best we run with what is ours
and do the best we can
and let all others see our scars
in the beauty of our plan
that’s in our hearts and in our words;
that’s in our beauty ‘jar.’
and gives of us, our view of love
and who we really are.
© copyright 2013 t. j. gargano
Filed under beauty, God, heart, Love
Prairie Flyer – Part IV
“Help yourself to the beans, I’ll fuel up your plane.”
he said, grabbing his jacket and the sack with the chain….
the chain for the billy goat who he’s kept for a while
and who’s been his companion and made it worthwhile
when there’s been no one else around .
“It’s been a while,” I said, “since a woman’s landed here.
Don’t see many women flyers in these parts since we’re
off the paths of the mail routes, changed a few years back.
In fact, don’t see many flyers at all, being off the beaten track;
just a few oldsters fly-in…. now and then.”
“It’s Jake, right?” she asked, as she got up off the stool
and went behind the counter bar looking for a tool
to scoop up some of Harley’s beans and some of the hot fresh bread
and the sight of both of them next to me, had me seeing red
and my stomach made its first ‘growl.’
“Yeah, Jake.” I whimpered, escaping my temporary insanity,
obviously caused by my proximity to this aberration of humanity,
and she talked and talked, intruding kindly on my soul
and all the while I smiled and listened….having lost control
of my senses by this compromising force.
The next thing I knew, Harley said….”it’s fueled and ready to go”
and her hair was under cap ‘cept some bangs that sat below
her goggles on her head that were definitely showing some wear
and she threw the white scarf ‘round her neck and made it hard to bear
as we walked her to the plane.
(continued Prairie Flyer – Part V)
Prairie Flyer – Part II
Then as I turned toward the counter’s bar,
the pilot started down and I noticed the star
on the scarf that the wind had placed on the wing
and getting it….the pilot was trying everything
but the wind, it seemed, was winning.
Then what I saw was hard to believe
as she stepped from the cockpit and tugged at her sleeve
taking off her cap….her hair falling down….
in long strands of blond, nearly touching the ground….
the white scarf flew wildly to her hands.
Gripped tight by pause, my eyes fixed in fear,
I awaken from my stupor from the feel of cold beer
that’s spilled on my hands as I head for my seat
at the counter in the back of the room…. where the heat
will feel good when she comes through the door.
I look towards where Harley is tending his beans,
stirring them vigorously…. some reaching his jeans….
the stove plates glowing brightly in oranges and red
as the wind wails and whistles at the smell of fresh bread
then it’s gone… the door opens….”Hi, guys.”
(to be continued….Part III)
A Beholder’s Beauty
She sits near by me in constant stare
on porch where a breeze disturbs her hair
as I drink my coffee in a dreamy state;
my mind still heavy, not yet awake.
The sky is laden with clouds of gray.
The air is moistened in falling spray.
Across the field a sound is born
and gives a notice to the coming storm.
The driving rain obscures the field
it comes our way like a thrusting shield.
The raindrops fall; her eyes in squint
that glare at me for any hint
that maybe we will go inside
so she can find a place to hide
from thunder clasps and the wind’s hiss
as she begs the comfort from a hug and kiss.
A beautiful collie my eyes adorn
my constant pal since she was born
with constant fix upon my path
her eyes bestow the love she hath
From room to room she follows me
from near or far her presence be
and whimpers wildly with heart in burn
when I leave home and when I return.
Beauty bounds most everywhere
we have to look; we have to stare
in weeds and rocks and dusty boards
to find the beauty that nature hoards.
The beholder’s eyes see beauty’s heart
in all of life; in every part.
and gathers not a summary of
but shares an insight of nature’s love.
T. J. Gargano