A poem I wrote several years back.


Bathe

Condensation beads over the mirrored image
Of a woman reclining in a porcelain tub.
Long limbs, excessive curves, and delicate neck.
Full lips invoke, “Grandmother.”
A petticoated figure draws close on a wooden stool.
The worn faucet burbles shut the flow of steaming water.
Vapor ribbons rise with the deep scent of lavender.
The ancient voice whispers secrets.

“Catch the light when it dances across your palm.
Quickly child, or it will be lost!”

“Let a man know you are strong. Don’t let him weaken you with need.”

The windowpane is sprinkled with flakes
From a shimmering winter sky.
An elderly hand smoothes back damp ringlets
Before a sponge, lush with suds, glides across naked skin
Bestowing the grace of ablution.
Age-soiled skin sags while
Water baptizes a firm, freckled shoulder
Sending rivulets to race over pale-nippled breasts.

“Hold tight to your trust
– but live life with an open hand, not a closed fist.”

“The sooner one realizes she is flawed, the stronger she will be.”

The hum of womanly conversation mingles with
The lap of the bath. Swirls of soap pool around one knee
Magnifying the sliver of a scar gained from a teenage tumble
Against a broken bottle. The older woman traces the mark
And winks at the younger.

“Savor each failure --- and each accomplishment.”

Wizened eyes once bright are dimmed now in death.
“There is no wisdom greater than kindness.”
With a sidelong glance in the evening light, drowsy lids open,
“Embrace the wonder of each new experience”
The water is icy and an unforgiving gurgle escapes the drain.
A solitary figure is reflected in the dressing table mirror.
“Dance on the dawn of each passing moment.”

copyright.ragamuffingurl.2010

I've got to set a better record than posting once a year.

Here I am again. This time, I'm challenged by all the possiblities that summer holds.
I'm responsible to add to the beauty of this life and so I'll try. First I must beautify and believe in myself. I do... and I should practice the creativity that is uniquely my own. So here goes.

I've been following a fellow blogger and admiring her creativity. She inspires me and yet she doesn't know me...
Thank you Willow.

I write. Not for money... well maybe an occassional magazine article, freelance, or for work... I direct an academic support center at a small college. and I write for my degree ... I'm working on a graduate degree in Literature and Writing.

But I write not to impress but to have fun... to enjoy... and to know myself. Simple really. I often have opening lines... but seldom pursue them.

I hear words in my head (no... not voices) lovely words like bliss and bold and Madagan and twinkle and twilight.

I will be attempting some writing and some reviewing and some reporting on gardening soon.

Look for my next post in a response to Magpie Tales.