DOGS!

Reader Robert demands pictures of the dogs! Indeed, they are more interesting than I shall ever be, and are worshiped as deities around here! So, without further ado, Bosco the border collie and Queen Molly the sheltie mix!

Winter Rose

Wild roses grew untended by the old churchyard wall

I would steal there by evening

And give names to them all

Their petals, to my hands, were soft as her face

And the moon, like your love, dear

Lent everything grace

There were angels of stone, the churchyard their keep

I would steal there alone

Just to sit silently

Their wings were of stone, and that's why they wept

And still like the angels

My vigil I kept

My mother lamented the loss of her child

While I, like the roses,

Untended grew wild

My love came too late to the old churchyard wall

Not I nor the angels

Can hear my love call

My love is an angel in form and in face

She weeps in the churchyard,

Our trysting place

The winter's white beauty can smother and kill

And I, like the churchyard,

Am silent and still.

________________

SOMEone has to set a bad example....

Ladies, step out of your dream kitchens for a moment and check out Anne Taintor.

http://www.annetaintor.com/

Honest Crapola, Baby!

Mama Zen

http://thezenofmotherhood.blogspot.com/

has tagged me to spout more true junk about myself! Woohoo!

1. I was sixth grade spelling champion. (but a little girl from fifth grade beat me in the school bee. The word that tripped me up? "Marriage.") I won a dictionary. I believe i still have it someplace. It probably contains neither "meme" nor "blog."

2. The house I grew up in had a spirit. As in ghost, though it never made itself visible, it certainly made itself known, but only to me, no one else seemed to sense it. I thought I was all alone until my nieces confessed, years later, that they hated to stay over at my mother's house cos it creeped them out. I asked them why, and it turns out, they felt the spirit, too. He lived in the basement, near the water softener, but he came upstairs sometimes. I have to stop writing about this, it is making me remember it too well. *shivers*

3. The best dream I ever had which was not a spiritual thing, was a dream I had some years ago that i was pregnant. (I can't get pregnant.) I was so SO happy about it, just over the moon. I have never felt quite like that ever before or since, it was just....lovely. I was making all my plans and just loving every second of it, til I woke up. When I realized it hadn't been real, I felt such grief and loss.

4. I am prone to receive spiritual messages in dreams. In one, at a difficult time in my 20s when i was pretty much going no place, I dreamt that a female angel started walking beside me on a scrubby little hill where i was walking, We crested the hill and I saw a place i still believe was a glimpse of Heaven. It was a natural scene, but the colors were all far more intense, more "there" than they ever could be on earth, and there was light coming from no place and every place. I was dumbfounded, and looked over at the angel. She smiled as if to say, now you know what I already knew...that this place exists. I felt she had wanted me to realize that there is so much more than I had believed in up til then. In another dream, I met another angel, and in that dream I recognized her instantly, and thought to myself, how could I ever have forgotten HER!? (awake, i don't know who she was, though there remained a feeling of familiarity) She told me, stop trying so hard. You don't need to look for love because you already have it. Not only that, but you have always had it and can never lose it. How cool is that?

5. In tenth grade English, we were supposed to write in our journals, and I decided to start writing a story in mine. My teacher took a look at what I had written the first day and told me that after that I was to forget about what the rest of the class was doing and just write my story. I finished it and had it for years until the paper went wacky (it wasn't acid-free) and the writing disappeared.

6. I cry at the end of "It's A Wonderful Life", no matter how many times I have seen it, and even though I know what's coming. I always cry.

7. The first book of poems that made me love poetry was something called "I'll Be There In The Morning If I Live" by a man named Grover Lewis. I bought it at the Little Professor bookstore and took it to the lawn of the local library, where i read it cover to cover. It was supposed to be "beat" style poetry, but I found much of it hilarious. A friend walked up and asked me what was so funny and I read one of the poems out loud, but she just looked at me like I'd just flown in from Mars. (I get that a lot) In retrospect, I just think that I had discovered a world in words which was so different from anything I had encountered up til then (I was 18) that it made me a little giddy. From then on, I was in love with poetry.

8. I wrote poems like a fiend from 18 to 26, then took a snooze until two years ago when I woke up again. I hope to stay awake for the rest of my life. The poems here labelled "early poems" are from that 18-26 period.

9. About the same time I fell in love with poetry, I also fell in love with alcohol. I drank like a fish for ten years, tried to stop for two, then did stop, to the present day. What enabled me to quit for good? I asked God to help me, and She did.

10. Under hypnosis and in dreams I have remembered past lives to varying degrees. I was a Venetian monk, who loved to sing and bake bread. I was a Dutch servant girl. I was a Pacific island girl for whom childbirth went terribly wrong. I was a Scottish landowner whose adored wife died young. I never remarried and would go on long walks with my favorite dog. At a particularly low ebb in my life, my wife from that life spoke to me. She said it meant something to her that I had never stopped loving her. She sent me my dog back, in this life, to help me. He does, and is still my favorite.

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Meme Thingggggggggg!

Sings: it mussst be Christmas tiiiiiiime....la la la la la

Jannie Funster has tagged me by way of Mama Zen, and I make it my business never to go against the wishes of two such august personages. So, without further ado--

FIVE THINGS I LOVE ABOUT CHRISTMAS

1. Putting up the home-made Santa on my front door. When I was with my partner, L., she had a friend who was into crafts and all of that, and she made this perfectly delightful Santa face and gave him to us. L never seemed to like it all that much, but I did, and when we split, I nabbed Santa and he has been with me ever since! He's my mannnnnn! *giggles*

2. I love the Patrick Stewart version of "A Christmas Carol" and try to watch it every year. I have two such movie traditions: "Dark Night of the Scarecrow" every Halloween, and this one every Christmas. I think Mr. Stewart ("Captain Picard"!) does a marvelous job as Scrooge, and the entire thing just makes me happy!

3. My Charlie Brown snow globe, given to me by earth's number one boy, Joe. My Joe, he's the apple of his Shaymom's eye, and he knew I cry every time I watch Charlie Brown Christmas and so he went and dug up this wonderful little snow globe with Charlie Brown, Snoopy (I love you, Snoopy!!!) and their Christmas tree. The little draggly tree in the cartoon always makes me want to take care of it. And when Linus gives his little Christmas speech, I always lose it. Sniff. Smile.

4. Television jewelry store ads. They are always so sweet and romantic, and some gal is always being given something wonderful and gee, who doesn't want to be THAT gal? I sure do! The Cat Powers version of "How Can I Tell You" on the music player here is from a jewelry store ad. If only I had some wonderful handsome boyfriend who would give me some expensive beautiful gift for Christmas, and then go away and leave me alone and not expect sex, ever. How cool would that be! Sighhhhhh.

5. Slow, wistful versions of "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas." The gay girl's family hasn't invited her for years now, and I love the idea of having some loving base to return to. maybe someone will adopt me, some year. Until then, I'll have to muddle through somehowwwww. And anyway, it's such a pretty song, it makes me sad/happy every time I hear it.

I am turning over the next tag to my dog--strike that, make that WONDERDOG Bosco! Bosco, take it away!

Dis ish Bosco! I tag my frend Sharkbutt the cat!!! Me wonders if there ish a cat santa who brinks fitch!?

http://sharkbutt.blogspot.com/2008/12/meme-fing.html

Blue Cat

Little blue and white cat

Like a summer sky

Are you the only one?

Are you all alone?

See the flowering trees

Every bloom a twin of all the rest--

When they land in my hair like wandering stars,

Then I become the night sky.

Little blue and white cat

Asleep on my bed in the early morn,

At times I have felt like the only one

At times I have been so alone.

See the paintings and sculptures

Piled in the halls as numerous as magpies--

My uncle lives here.

He is as rich as he is untidy

And he has let me come to stay.

Across the courtyard

Lives my friend the zen.

She says every day is your own work of art

And her company is as warm as a kiln.

Towards noon, the blue and white cat sits on the sill and watches my rose bushes--

He is as blue as the years gone by.

He is as white as a wedding dress.

He is as unexpected and marvelous as an Italian dream.

_____________________

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas from The Word Garden to

Shrinky

Helen T.

Sheena and Sharkbutt

Jannie Funster

Mama Zen

Cynthia

Val

Kelly Dickson

Tracey-Ann

Grace Dewitt

Gillian

David McMahon

Marty

Chewy

Scarlet

Leiandra

Vodka Mom

my brilliant and beautiful sister Nikki

and all of my wonderful readers!

Thank you all, and have a wonderful Christmas season.

Love,

Shay

Mermaids

(David, at authorblog, has nagged and harried me (at least that's how I remember it! Ha!) to write a rhyming poem for the Word Garden. Here it is.)

The water lies so still

Where I tossed my heart like flowers--

Long have I lived in chill

Of so many solitary hours.

This motherless girl, me

Never meant to be a bride--

By the bank everlastingly

With only mist to sit beside.

The mermaids sing--

Sing, and tear my heart;

My flowers kiss the wet, then turn,

And slowly drift apart.

Let me go, Love--

Never more to haunt the fen;

Take my flowers, Sweet, and then

Set me free to love again.

______________________

Attachment

The mixer lost its attachment.

"Without my mixer, I am paralyzed," said the heartbroken little attachment.

"I am not beautiful enough to be ornamental,

And without my mixer,

I am so sad that I cannot even stand up."

The cookie dough said,

"I will support you, until you feel stronger."

The bowl said,

"I will hold you, until you are not so sad."

Just then, a voice said,

"Where do you think you're going, you little rascal?" and clicked the attachment back into place.

Reunited with its beloved mixer,

It began spinning happily again,

Doing what it was always meant to do--

Stirring up sweet things.

_____________________

Concrete Heartbeat

Someone thieved the life from this day--

Like a museum of the flu,

An exhibit of the exhausting...

Today is

a failed photo

a blind statue

a bust.

___________

Ugh. I'm ill.

Matt Dillon Enters The Dream-Time

Marshall Dillon thinks,

Fuck this.

How did everybody's problem become my problem?

His trigger finger hurts

And he's out of Alleve.

He gets in his Toyota and heads out of town,

Leaving Dodge City to the alley cats.

As he drives through the desert,

There are three coyotes watching from a ridge.

One is Freedom,

The second is Sorrow.

The third may have been a cactus, or a bird.

Oh, fold me in your great dark wings, thinks Marshall Dillon.

I am sick of dust

And this stupid leather vest.

After several hours, as the morning rises behind him,

The Marshall pulls over to stretch his back.

He takes off his silver star and tosses it into the lightening sky;

On its descent, it intersects perfectly with the yellow face of the sun.

"Just like Little Sure Shot," runs through his melting mind like a one-off hit by The Music Explosion.

No one ever sees Marshall Dillon again.

_______________________

(image by david son of lone wolf wagner)

10 Honest Truths

Dear Readers--do you all know my friend Mama Zen? Women want to be her and men want to be with her; yep, that's the one! She has tagged me to participate in telling 10 honest truths about myself. Here goes:

1. I was raised a Methodist. Clearly, it didn't "take." I don't think they're allowed to wear red or say "crap." And crap like that. My apologies to any Methodist readers I may have. To this day I can spout bible-themed double talk, all of it wrong. Hey, that stuff's not the bi--...oh,never mind!

2. The thing I am most proud of having done is my part in raising my son Joe. And no, I am not bi one get one free; the stork brought him, honest injun. Joe is obviously the most handsome, brilliant, charming two-legged fellow on the planet, though I may be biased. Nah!

3. After Joe, I've got another guy. Oh yeah! What a catch, I was lucky to find him! It was a real pick up joint where we met, but I knew right away he was the one for me. I even sing "My Guy" to him! Five years of true love and going strong. I am talking about, of course, Bosco the border collie! Hands off, ladies, he only loves ME! Darn right.

4. My car has bumper stickers. They are: "Born OK The First Time", "Girls Kick Ass", "Sorry I missed church but I was busy practicing witchcraft and becoming a lesbian", and "FEMME." "Girls Rule" fell off.

5. My name is Shay and I am a chocoholic. I don't need a LOT, but if I don't have SOME on hand every day, I go absolutely batshit. And if I am hormonal, goodnight, fuggeddaboudit. Just shut up and pass the Oreos. My nickname is "Cookie" for a reason!

6. My favorite movie is "When Night Is Falling", a Canadian movie, recently reissued, about a female professor at a religious college who falls in love with a dazzling gal who works with a traveling circus. She shoots an arrow through the professor's window with her telephone number attached. If someone did that to me, that would be it, register us at Kohl's and send out the invitations.

7. I own a cowgirl hat. It's brown and it's a "crusher" hat, you can smoosh it up and pack it in a bag, though I've never had the heart to actually do so, cos I love my cowgirl hat. It's brown. It keeps raindrops off me. It is my friend.

8. I detest, absolutely loathe (American) football. I am probably the only Lesbian in history to feel this way.

9. I collect stuffed toys, though not like I used to. I favor raccoons and coyotes in particular. I have a huge Felix the Cat.

10. At this very moment, I am wearing Scottie dog pajama bottoms and ancient slippers which were once pink. Grey tee shirt, and a sweater the color of brown sugar. When I was a child, I would agree to do anything, no matter what, if promised a little brown sugar as bounty.

I am tagging Shrinky, at Shrink-Wrapped Scream, and Marty at Dark Star Discovery. Break the chain and you will be forever cursed with combination skin and embarrassing age spots. And an evil midget will follow you around spouting ShamWow commercials. Don't risk it.

Perfect Butterfly

Perfect butterfly

Your wings are wet

I can't look away

I can't forget

Your beauty utter

As you softly flutter

Perfect butterfly.

___________________

Morning Glory

See the vine, brittle and brown,

How december has changed this place!

The harsh winds unsettle and mar--

So recent the mornings I hurried down

The barefoot path to see your face!

A fool, I sighed, "how enchanting you are!"

___________________________________