Tag Archives: writing
Sad news to hear of Prince’s passing. 1999, Raspberry Beret and Little Red Corvette are three I really love to hear especially when they surprise me on the radio in the car. My favorite has always been When Doves Cry. Something in the line “that is what it sounds like when doves cry” has always stirred a deep and longing emotion in my heart. I always felt more than the literal meaning. Something much more poetic. A little…..
Hope and the Memory-Keeper (a musing) is on page 14 of By the Pond (stanza 3 in picture above and the whole poem at the end). This poem a melding of ideas, thoughts and issues of mine. Hope is a child hiding, and the memory-keeper has a divine origin in the poem. She a high ranking creature – a seraph. What they represent in reality are repressed memory and its protection. In my completely unprofessional opinion, the memory-keeper that stands…..
I am continuing my discussion on my being or not being Catholic. Up until 23 years ago, the thought of leaving the Catholic Church never crossed my mind. The ritual and constant aspects of the Mass worked for me. I liked being able to go to any Catholic Church, even in another language, and know what was happening. But, I would like tell more of my interaction in different churches through my life in this blog……
I would like to talk about my grandmothers. They were both strong women and for all intents and purposes the heads of their households. While the last thing I wanted was to be like my mom, these two women showed me how to deal with things when life happens. The picture above is of Grandma and my daughter at visit in the nursing home she was in. In part 2 let us talked…..
Am I Catholic? At this point in my life, I cannot say I am not but cannot say I am either. Because of a separation on ethical beliefs and practices over the years, I have “self-excommunicated” myself. That means – by personal choice (the Catholic Church has not done this to me) I do not participate in the sacraments. It has been almost a year since I have been to the parish that landed the last…..
The 3 rings on my right hand seem to interest people and children I work with. I was even asked about them at the Miami Book Fair by a few people. I thought I would talk about them and their meaning to me. Let us start with the ring on my thumb. The ring has my two children’s names on it. About 12-15 years ago, the ring was made by an apprentice jeweler. We have…..
At the end of my last blog, I mentioned a bit about my trauma and 1990s. I mentioned needing medication for heightened emotions. What I would like to do is explained that more. In March of 1993, I attended a Mass that turned my life upside down. A week before I had been asked by a neighbor to join the small group that sang at Saturday evening Masses. I had always wanted to do something like…..
There are a few good memories about mom. When I could drive, I took my sister and we would go see Grandma Elsie and her. Mom would be in the kitchen of the old farmhouse smoking, drinking ice coffee, and listening to her radio. If she took her medication, she could be okay. Problem was that she at times did not feel she needed it. During those times she usually ended up in the hospital for awhile. Mom played saxophone…..
My dad I believe to be my reason why I chose poetry. He died in 1965 when I was six and he was 29. Dad was not healthy. He had a bad heart, arteriosclerosis, and died at a friend’s house of a cerebral hemorrhage. Dad’s grandfather (48) and father (38) both died of different heart problems. He was and is my hero. My book is dedicated to him. Once I began writing and the thought of publishing a book a formed,…..
Let me start by sharing the first poem I ever wrote. It was fall of 1977 and it came out just like it is. Frustration is in the middle section of By the Pond on page 71: Frustration by sidonamarie Whirl, wind, whirl. Hold back your rain. Your clouds hang low, They blacken then build. Your storm rolls in So that day looks as night. Your thunder rumbles With rain ready to pour. Whirl, wind, whirl. Hold…..
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