LOVED and LOST

Give me a childhood again and I will live
as owls do, in the moss and curvature

of nightfall
                -glimpsed,
but never really seen,

tracking the lane
to a house I have known from birth

through goldenrod
and alstroemeria;

while somewhere,
at the far edge of the day,

a pintailed duck
is calling to itself

across a lake,
                    the answer it receives

no more or less remote than we become
to one another,

                     mapped,
then set aside till we admit

that love divulged is barely love at all:
only the slow decay of a second skin

concocted from the tinnitus of longing. 




                                                                                                 by John Burnside

Choose A Life That Matters

Today in church, Father Cox read this incredible poem.  He thought it appropriate for the 1st Sunday of Lent, I couldn't agree more.  Most humans get confused as to what is really important in life and take the wrong path, often wondering why they aren't happy.  Michael Josephson, the author, reminds us how to choose a life that truly matters.  His words are powerful, insightful, encouraging and inspirational. His words will remind me of the choices I make to be a better person in this world~ 

So What Will Matter At The End of The Day?

Ready or not, some day it will come to an end
There will be no more sunrises, no minutes, hours or days.
All the things you collected, whether treasured or forgotten
Will pass to someone else.

Your wealth, fame and temporal power will shrivel to irrelevance
It will not matter what you owned or what you owed
Your grudges, resentments, frustrations and jealousies will finally disappear

So, too, your hopes, ambitions, plans and to-do lists will expire.
The wins and losses that once seemed so important will fade away
It won’t matter where you came from, or on what side of the track you lived.
It won’t matter whether you were beautiful or brilliant.
Even your gender and skin colour will be irrelevant.

So what will matter? How will the value of your days be measured?

What will matter is not what you bought but what you built,
Not what you got but what you gave.

What will matter is not your success, but your significance.
What will matter is not what you learned, but what you taught.

What will matter is every act of integrity, compassion, courage and sacrifice that
Enriched, empowered or encouraged others to emulate your example.

What will matter is not your competence, but your character.
What will matter is not how many people you knew
But how many people feel a lasting loss when you are gone.

What will matter is not your memories
But the memories of those who loved you.

What will matter is how long you will be remembered , by whom and for what
Living a life that matters does not happen by accident
It’s not a matter of circumstance but of choice

Choose to live a life that matters

                                                                                   - by Michael Josephson

Barbie

A MOTHERS LOVE

We choke on our own apron strings.

A decorative piece of cloth wrapped around the waste
to protect what's important to you
                     
                                     -a symbol of security

The umbilical cord is cut at birth
and the apron strings take over.

                                    -a symbol of connection

Only to find the security and connection
of the apron strings
can on longer be tied

these strings slowly and gently loosen
come untied
and fall
only leaving memories of what was
like the dessert plate
where only crumbs remain
telling of sweet and delicious memories.

                                                                                                           ~ Barbara Morey

Ripples of Life

Is life a series of mistakes

presenting challenges before us

leading our minds to wonder

if only,

or what if.

Frustration, pain and disappointment

leads to unanswerable questions.

Is stillness the answer

not making a move like still water 

until a rock is skipped across it

creating ripples which cannot

be stopped

taking their course 

over a period of time.

For one to live a life full of ripples 

they have chosen a life full of

courage, wisdom, and patience

constantly making mistakes in the flow 

only to discover who they really are

explaining to oneself how the great mass 

encompassed in the skull teaches them

lessons of emotional, self-regulation.

  

                                                                                      by Barbara Morey ~

My Heart

I open my heart

with a key I hold.

My heart can be opened

with a spare which is held

by someone dear to me.

It is opened in times of need,

when others are hurting,

to console, nurture and comfort.

It opens to release hope

to those who have lost it

and beats in an

altruistic rhythm

to those who need unconditional

love and support when in need.

Once open, it flows

with warmth to heights

unimaginable.

When closed

it repairs itself

to be opened again,

when the time is right,

and the chance

presents itself.

                                                                                                                  by Barbara Morey ~

My Voice

I find my voice in my garden
where the blooms and colors vary,


in the dark
telling me everything will be all right.


My voice becomes quiet on a mountain top
where the vista takes my breath away
and leaves me speechless,


only to find it, when I need it most, to say
I love you to people who help create my world.

                                                        by Barbara Morey ~

A New Age

Where have all the love letters gone,

those special words that are written to one.

Words on a paper to say how you feel,
telling a loved one your love is for real.

The paper has crumbled no longer in sight,

words to be written by candle light.

The new age is here I'm sorry to say

where emails and texting have paved the way.

No more fond greetings and hope all is well,

just simple responses, a quick TTYL.

Gone are the days of faithfully yours,

and hiding those letters in your chest of drawers.

It all seems so sad for those days are now gone,

the times when love letters were written daylong.

                                                                                             by Barbara Morey ~

                                                          

The Wave and The Web

I stand here and think about happier days,

the surf and the sun, hanging ten on big waves.

No cares in the world I was crazy 'bout Jim,

we decided to marry, couldn't live without him.

As I stand in my kitchen, confronting a lie,
he walks out the door never saying goodbye.
For 15 years we've been playing this game,
accusations are bigger, there are so many names.


He wonders what's up, what I've got up my sleeve,
we've done this together, this web that we've weaved.


We've got all these kids and all kinds of bills,
never holding a job, I relied on goodwill.
Promises made, some impossible to keep,
tears fall on my pillow each night while I sleep.


He still hangs at the beach, for that ultimate wave,
It saddens me greatly, the way he behaves.
My children are hungry, never food in the house,
I always knew someday, he'd be one lousy spouse.


He thinks that his drinking would not interfere,
he justifies his wrong by saying, "It's only beer."


I need something different, I deserve so much more,
I need to gather the kids and walk straight out that door,
to a life they deserve, not one full of unrest,
wanting all of my children to have only the best.


Can't go to my family, they're on the east coast,
Didn't approve from the start, to them I'm a ghost.  
With no where to go and no money to take,
if I don't do it now, it's just another mistake.


So I'll pray to my savior and ask what I need,
and ask for the strength to persist and succeed. 

                                                                by Barbara Morey ~

A Face in the Mirror

As I stand in front of the mirror

I look at myself and

I am tired.

My shirt reminds me of the meatballs and sauce

I made earlier today.

Red against green reminds me of Christmas

which reminds me of the order for 12 x 12

Christmas designed scrapbooking paper I did not complete.

A diversion stopped me from hitting the checkout prompt

from Two Peas in a Bucket

a shopping cart overflowing and ready to be taken care of.

As I stand in front of the mirror

I see my face and

I look tired.

Not having time to do my hair

or apply makeup

reminding me I was in a hurry

to take myself to my mothers

because she was not feeling well.

Shoulders aching from stress of the day.

A skirt & vest pattern sits patiently waiting to be 

laid on material, pinned down and cut out.

Hurrying to make the meatballs and sauce

throwing a pot roast in the crock pot before I go.

Remembering to add potatoes and carrots later

peas on the side for those who dislike carrots.

Picking up after the dog so the landscaper can mow without incident.

Heading out to get the boys from school.

As I stand in front of the mirror

I see a women 

who is tired

and is no different from anyone else who has a family to take care of.

                                                                                                                         by Barbara Morey ~

from where  I STAND  i see

beauty before me
where one has to open his eyes to a world not yet seen
but has only imagined 

Pammie Popcorn

Pammie was my neighbor, she lived by the sea,
she was younger than most, but older than me.
She had 3 older brothers a dog and a cat,
because of her hair, she could not wear a hat.

Her hair looked like popcorn, it was fluffy and white,
I don't know how she slept on it all through the night.
She wore earring that hung down, way down to her chin,
when she walked or she ran, they would move in the wind.

Her body was tiny, she had small hands and feet,
her clothes were all different, never feeling complete.
Her appearance was awesome, having style and class,
her smile so big, eyes resembling sea glass.

Now Pammie was special, very special you see,
when my parents went out, she took good care of me.
With no older brother or sisters around,
I couldn't stay alone with my dog, Mr. Brown.

Pammie would come to my house every day,
we'd listen to records, we'd go out and we'd play.
Her bat and her ball was always a hit,
but always forgetting her baseball mitt.

When dinnertime came she'd ask what I'd want,
I'd say, "I don't care, how 'bout a croissant."
I'd take out the popcorn, she'd say "Put it back"
"You can have that later, as a bedtime snack."

"You need to eat healthy so you grow big and strong,
for if you don't, you'll do your body wrong.
Don't end up like me, with a small body and face,
my hair looks like popcorn, it all over the place."

"Broccoli, peas, carrots and potatoes,
chicken and steak along side tomatoes.
That's what you should eat to be big and grow strong,
by eating healthy you can't go wrong."

I thought Pammie was cool, she was more than a friend,
I'd love to have her as my full time girlfriend.
Out of all my school buddies, my friends and my pals,
Pammie popcorn's for me, she's my one special gal.

                                                       by Barbara Morey ~

from where I STAND i see

freedom

courage to explore

determination within yourself

for the eyes are the window to one's soul

First Love

He stands outside my window

throwing pebbles at each pain,

he waits for my arrival

now calling out my name.

He's someone I not know quite yet

but given one the chance,

I'd like to know much more of him

for I heard he comes from France.

My parents think I'm much to young

for such a boys advance,

but if I play my cards just right

he'll ask me to the dance.

It's really not a dance you see

but a debutante style ball,

being introduced into society

in Englands Manor Hall.

I've heard the French know how to love

and that's what interests me,

I want a man who's brave and strong

who's crossed the great North Sea.

I am a lady that's for sure 

my honor stands for all,

yet if he took me to this dance

I'd sneak him down the hall.

Off to a room where we'd be one

intwined in each ones arms,

to touch and feel ones tenderness

his French ways such a charm.

I'm much to young to marry

my parents tell me so,

yet I envision he and I

in a humble French Chateau.

I know the love I have for him

will never go away,

I'll dream of us together

planning for our wedding day.

                                                                       by Barbara Morey ~

A Change in Season

A quiet blanket falls on Lake Megunticook this time of year,

saying goodbye to all, 

to all we hold dear.

The loon who's aware of the change in the air,

will fly south come late fall and needs to prepare.

The boats and canoes are all put to bed,

A task that's done quietly, no words ever said.

These bright yellow flowers from Summers delight,

will soon drop their petals from cold Autumn nights.

These delicate faces who've danced in the wind,

will take a new shape when the next phase begins.

The birdhouse is vacant with no bird in sight,

do they feel the cold winds, have they taken to flight?

This one little lily whose colors so brilliant,

had better take cover, she's not so resilient.

And this sweet little cherub with lantern in hand,

says goodbye to his friends as a task that's unplanned.

The love seat sits empty to hold the fall leaves,

til a blanket of snow come December's receive.

After School

Walking on the macadam

heat waves rise 
my bare feet are warm

45 minutes to go

talking with Betsy

about a cute boy

feeling the heat under my feet

30 minutes to go

unwrapping a piece of bubblegum

laughing as we walk

hot macadam making its presence known

15 minutes to go

leaving Betsy at her door

thinking about the comfort of my home

blisters rise on the bottom of my feet

I am finally home

My Fathers Chair

Held a man full of life

Smiles

Songs

Laughter

Held a man full of dreams

Hope

Promises

Opinions

Held a man full of love

Kindness

Forgiveness

Understanding

Now sits quietly
only holding
memories
of my father

A Prayer For Today

The key to the universe is love, love, love

and should be given to all

other than written about or spoken of.

It should be spread to all the worlds people

in ways not yet known

not just through a house that holds up a steeple.

We know what we need to live in this world

it’s peace and it’s love

given to all, wanting none deprived of.

But it’s not how it works, so unfortunate for most

so prayers for the future will be said

to the Father, Son and Holy Ghost.

If our hearts had the power to bring love to all

we’d be much better off

like Saint Peter and Saint Paul.

                                                   Barbara Morey ~

Another World

I think I’m in Heaven but I’m really in Hell,

that old black magic has me under it’s spell.

Bob Marley on the radio I sway to his bells,

the room’s full of smoke & it’s beginning to smell.

It gets real loud and my brain starts to swell,

there are times I can’t stand it and I just want to yell.

It appears that there’s blood running down the four walls,

and to others it reminds them of horseshoe falls.

This world I’m experiencing starts to close in,

I feel like I’m drowning and try hard to swim.

People around me start to fall to the ground,

why in the world am I hanging around.

The time I have spent in this strange bizarre scene,

I’m beginning to think, it’s not safe, it’s unclean.

It’s time to go home to the one’s that I love,

I’m glad this is something I need not be part of.

                                                                       by Barbara Morey ~

A Far Away Land

The sea is my comfort, it calls out to me,

It takes me to places I'd much rather be.
In a far away land that no one knows of,
gathering riches and goods, many things that I love.


As I sit by the ocean and dream of these sights,
a large group of gulls stand up and take flight.
Where are they going, 
to a land that I love,
will they find all the things, only I can dream of?


I think of these lands I'd like to explore,
I'd be so exotic, not the girl from next door.
I'd speak my own language wherever I went,
the people would stare, but pay their respect.


The men would adore me and follow me round,
I'd reject their advances, like a boat run aground.
For men don't delight me, tis not what I want,
I'd fancy a women who's a real debutante.


Or I'd live a life by myself with mystique,
for riches and goods is my goal that I seek.
I'd need no one else for my life is my own,
my journeys and travels are for me all alone.


These riches and goods I seek for myself,
appear in my mind, they're for no one else.
For the wealth and possessions I claim so to love,
are actually dreams I only think of.


When the seagulls fly back on the beach next to me,
I remember the one place I so long to be.
It's the ocean my friend, it calls out to me,
My calm is the ocean, 
my comfort's the sea.

Down and Out

O' to have a roof over ones head,
other than the overhang of an awning.
To be able to open a door to a foyer,
other than walking through a revolving door to a lobby.

To have a kitchen to store food,
other than a back alley where my spoiled fruit and half eaten pretzel are stored in a dumpster,
or where my day old sandwich is located on the corner of Fifth & Madison in a wire basket.

A warm and soft bed would do me fine,
so the cold slab of concrete that supports my back would no longer harden my soul.
The feather pillow could support my head,
like a loving parent does when a child needs advice regarding the ideas and decisions one makes.

If I had such things,
I may not be rich but possibly a man with self worth.
I'd find pleasure in the most mundane job,
conversation with my equals,
and possibly, even love with someone who would have me.

                                                                     by Barbara Morey ~