A beautiful and powerful story I hope you all read. Click here for: Hopscotch on the Prom…a short story dedicated to all Alzheimer’s sufferers and their carers or care givers.
This post from Chris Wilson at the blog Let me tell U a story gets a 5 out of 5 stars from West Coast Review. You do need to follow this blog.
Click here for: Art, love and the romantic soul.
A fun post that will make you think, or at least feel good.
When you’re my age I’ll be 94. You’re 14 now. Things have changed a lot since I was 14. Then again a lot of things haven’t changed. But how I raised you is a lot different than how your dad and I were raised.
I hope you will tell your kids:
My mom was so funny.
We laughed so much.
We always had fun.
At dinner we talked about everything. I could always talk with my mom and dad.
My parents guided me and were firm but they never judged me.
My parents told me how important for me to keep my reputation good.
They taught me the value of friendship and true friends.
They taught me to love art, science and history.
They showed me that it was ok to be myself.
They showed me that it was OK to be a little different without being weird.
They gave me a lot of hugs.
My mom put me first.
My mom taught me that only children are strong children.
My mom told me that even though I have a small family that I will never be alone. She was right.
My mom took me to concerts. She took me to the opera. She took me to rock concerts. She took me to a lot of rock concerts.
My mom was the cool mom. All of my friends liked her.
My mom was always busy.
My mom loved to read.
My mom wrote the most amazing stories.
My mom loved wine and her cats.
My mom always did what she thought was right.
My mom encouraged my dreams.
My mom believed in me.
My mom told me that I could do anything.
My mom and I had so many adventures – even after I was grown.
My mom worked full time and I’m so proud of her. She was great at what she did. She set a good example for me.
My mom always made me laugh.
My mom was so funny. I know I said that before but she was. She still is.
My mom loves me forever.
I love my mom.
And I love my daughter. She is so funny.
MT
Click here for: Quotations about Life, Love, Art and Vampires.
This post gets 5 our of 5 stars from West Coast Review.
I just discovered this wonderful thoughtful and fun blog Mostly Beautiful Things (mostlybeautifulthings.com). Take a look, check it out. you’ll be glad you did.
Click here for: Passings in the night.
For those who have lost someone they love, a friend, a lover, a sister…
I’m honored to share a poem from my friend, Northern California writer Richard Turton.
The acrid smell of cordite
Still hovered in the air.
No breeze to wash away
The scent of Satan’s hair.
The Medivac’s are fading now,
Their cabins filled with dead.
So many grisly pictures
Are surging through my head
Another hill’s been taken
The earth all charred and black
We all know what’s coming;
Tomorrow…”Give it back!”
The Eagle cries from barren trees
His tears, he cannot hide.
Where once a proud, young soldier stood
My Warrior Brother, died
The scorched ground that surrounds me;
Am I in Dante’s Hell?
This skirmish now is over
We saw them as they fell.
My Warrior Brother, Donny,
Died that gruesome day.
He took the bullets meant for me
With his final words did say,
“Tell Mom and Sis I loved them!
Please! Don’t let me down!”
I promised I would tell them
A promise I’d soon drown.
The Eagle cried that tragic day,
Back in Sixty-Eight.
A promise made…un-kept,
To my Warrior mate.
One thing that I’m sure of,
A thing that gives no rest.
The hounds of Hell still battle
Deep within my chest.
A bottle’d been my address
For forty years or more.
I’d take ‘most any drug,
I couldn’t find the door.
Somewhere there’s a record,
Of drugs and booze and tears.
When I crawled out of the bottle
I’d been buried in for years.
Half a decade sober.
Not a real long time.
That’s how long I’m clean tho’,
My life’s becoming mine.
The winds of war are blowing by;
In history books they last.
I’m in the winter of my years,
My best days…they have passed.
The one thing that I’ve never done
One thing I cannot face:
To visit the Memorial,
The headstone for that place.
My daughter said, “You have to go,
To honor those who died!”
I said I know I should…
But that I’d go…I lied
Then one day the phone rang;
A call I knew I’d dread.
It was Donny’s sister,
“Please help me!” Karen pled.
“I’ve spent these years just searching
I even hired a sleuth.
I finally found out where you live…
I need to know the truth.”
“The Army’s always been real vague,
And their answers never matched.
I need to know what happened;
They always seemed detached”
“Our Mother has passed on now,
But I still need to know;
I’d really love to meet with you,
Please…just show me how!”
The hounds of Hell are roused again;
Their howling has re-started.
I force their shrieks out of my mind,
My path, it has been charted
Quiet now, you dogs of war!
It’s time for a new quest!
It’s time for me to wrestle you,
And lay your souls to rest!
Then I thought the one thing,
A thought I’d never say,
Should I meet her at The Wall,
And put my hounds at bay?
I finally said I’d meet with her,
With a voice that was not mine.
“The Wall is where I’ll meet you.
I’ll see you there at nine.”
I saw flowers in her hand,
As she walked my way.
“Yellow roses were his favorite.”
Later she would say.
“Hello, my name is Karen.”
She said when we did meet
“Donny wrote me many things,
I knew that you’d be sweet!”
“I know this must be hard for you,
But I really need to know.
Please tell me how my brother died,
That day, so long ago.”
The moment had arrived.
I could hide this fact no more.
I said things I’d kept hidden,
Behind my mind’s locked door
She took my hand in hers,
And waited patiently.
My head bowed down as I thought
Of words I had to say.
I knew my words would stab her heart
But she would not look away.
She watched me as I told her
Of that ghastly day.
“Your Brother died in my arms,
In that nameless place.
He took the bullets meant for me
And died as we embraced!”
Her head dropped down, when I was done
Her chin upon her chest.
A single tear rolled down her cheek,
“Now Donny’s laid to rest.”
I walked with her as she made her way
To the Wall of Stone.
She laid the flowers at the base
Her silent prayer was sown.
At last I’ve honored those who fell,
Whose names are etched in rows.
We touched the name of Donny,
Who died so long ago.
And we cried…
The Eagle’s cry is heard again;
It lives within the Wall!
Each time a name is touched
The Eagle gives his call.
© Richard Turton
Note from Marla:
I met Rick Turton through his son who was my daughter’s 4th grade teacher. Rick joined a writing group I’m an administrator for. We all soon discovered Rick is a talented writer and a man with a sharp sense of humor. When I first read this poem I had no idea … I ended up choked up. A few years ago I visited the Vietnam Memorial in Washington DC. It was such a moving experience – a difficult experience – even though the war is long over. For many it will never be over. Thank you to Rick for your words of love and honor and for allowing me to share this poem.
Click here for: Relationships: The partnership or partnerships – trying to find the road of happiness.
Thoughtful words on life and love and relationships. A blog worth checking out. musicaddictjane.wordpress.com
Just a little bit of Relationship fun. Click here for: Night of the Living Dead – Ex-boyfriend Version.
A little romantic advice from the mistress of romance: Love her for who she is, not what you want her to be….
And a lot of common sense thrown in there too!
The go to web site for practical advice on love and whatever…The Art of Writing Love Letters is Alive and Well (even for Zombies & Ghosts).
West Coast Review 