Month: October 2013

Dear Diary,

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What a day it’s been.
Dear diary,
It’s been just like a dream.  Woke up late. Wasn’t where I should have been.
For goodness sake what’s happening to me.
Write lightly, yours truly, dear diary.

It was cold outside my door.
So many people by the score.
Rushing around so senselessly.
They don’t notice there’s people like me.
Write lightly, yours truly, dear diary.

They don’t know what they’re playing.
They’ve no way of knowing what the game is.
Still they carry on doing what they can.
Outside me, yours truly, dear diary.

It’s over. Will tomorrow be the same?
I know that they’re really not to blame.
If they weren’t so blind then surely they’d see.
There’s a much better way for them to be.
Inside me, yours truly, dear diary.

Somebody exploded an H-bomb today.
But it wasn’t anyone I knew.

Written by Ray Thomas of The Moody Blues and featured on album titled, “On The Threshold of a Dream” April, 1969

Current Mood:  Moody

Current Music:  The Moody Blues


Confessions of a Tree Addict

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Montezuma Cypress growing in Oaxaca, Mexico

We slept beneath open windows with screens filtering the scents of jasmine, climbing roses, pink geraniums and Japanese plums.  Aah, summers in the Big Easy!

Some days, our bikes would glide like the wind, jump familiar curbs and land in City Park, where for $3.50, we could rent paddle boats or canoes for one hour of mayhem on the mossy citron-crusted lagoons.  Other days, we’d take the long ride to the lakefront and watch the sailboat races while sprawled on beach towels with spearmint snow cones and teen magazines.

Then there was my tenth summer….the endless summer.

Hurricane Betsy landed in New Orleans in the middle of the night and dispersed her wrath from the shores of Lake Pontchartrain to the banks of the mighty Mississippi.  Her wicked winds thundered through the air like howling wolves, hungry for destruction.  Before nights end, her spiraling tentacles struck the base of the massive oak tree across the street; its branches busting through our living room window and stopping cars in their tracks.  It took seven days to get the power back on in Lakeview, ten days more before St. Anthony’s would re-open. So for two weeks, I was crowned queen of the tree fairies.

Perched atop my uncontested throne, I owned the neighborhood, halting all challengers and forcing them to creep backward down the street while paying homage to me and my mighty oak.

I made friends with confused squirrels and ate breakfast with robins and sparrows.   Those endless days were my first real lesson in human nature, offering a unique vantage point while camouflaged beneath nature’s canopy in the center of the street.

Within a few days, bicycles owned the street, bringing more and more kids to climb and sit on parts of my domain that had never before felt human arms and legs. They were all anointed my knights and maids-in-waiting.

The summer ended abruptly the day the tree crew came to dissolve my kingdom.  I was glad school was back in session, for if I had witnessed the abolishment of my throne, I might have staged an embarrassing protest that I couldn’t possibly win.  And deep inside, I knew if I had watched the once-majestic giant humbled into manageable stumps and carted off in a dump truck, a part of me would have died.  And when that first car drove past our house, making it to the end of the block, I might have pitched a cherished acorn at it.

Strange how quickly a taste of power can manifest and take root…and how just as quickly, it can be snatched away.

Never underestimate the power of a tree.

Current Genre:      Personal Memoirs

Current Music:       “Our House” by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young


Destiny’s Toy

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I am Destiny’s toy

She takes me down paths to mystical journeys and earthly delights

She shields me from harm

She nudges me in the right direction

She sustains my vicarious life to satisfy her whims

She maintains a reservoir of wisdom as my drinking pool

She fills the ink in my pen

She whispers what I’m expected to do

She’s the puppet master

She juggles my cords

She makes me stumble, fall, then fly again

One day, Destiny will lose her grip

Soon these cords will become frayed and I’ll be free

Since while Destiny wasn’t watching

My cords tangled with thee

Current Music:           “Send In the Clowns”   Peggy Lee

Current Genre:          Poetry