vacation fire #1-3

fire #3

     

     I find myself by another fire, successfully having my 3rd in three nights to celebrate being on vacation from my job.  Most, no all of my journal writing is done with a pen and a blank page.  Every once and a while I think I should write directly to my blog and I have attempted a few times with no luck.  This time I am going to incorporate pictures into my journal.  This too is something I have done with the blank page a pen some prints and clear tape.  This makes it easier which should mean more content.  In this day and age on the internet, content is everything.  

     

     

     My blog is packed full of content but it has been strictly poetry & random thoughts until now. Publishing my books has been my thing for almost 20 years now and that is not going to change.  I simply want to be me add another level to my writing.  Since summer vacations in the white mountains of New Hampshire, Woodard's Cabins to be exact, I have been keeping journals of daily events.    

     I am on vacation and I had fires last night and on Monday night so I want to share a few pictures from those nights too.  I am going to try keep up this journal style writing.  I will call it FRO-ZEN because I was given the nickname NiceFRO and although I have pretty much outgrown the nickname I still use it for my thoughts because that's where it came from originally.  

fire #1

fire #2

the only thing we know how to do

someone once told me
nothing very good
or very bad
lasts for very long
so enjoy every moment you have 
but be patient too
-a laugh and smile
that twenty years time
couldn't erase in the mind
sitting back now
nearly the same spot
doing nearly the same thing
with the pen trying to capture
it all with words
like it was back when
in my early twenties
she was my inspiration
the muse for the thoughts
of the time now memories
have become those life lessons
learned and old words
take on new significance
taught me about love and heartbreak
then a life time of friendship
for our born days are a week apart
and I can't remember one
where I didn't think 
of this random fact
for now the only thing 
we know how to do
is keep on keepin' on
and if we listen hard enough 
with the right kind of ears
laughter like thunder can be heard
blowing in the wind...

Rest In Peace my beautiful friend
much love eversince!!

Jolena Golemme Driscoll
5/3/1975 - 6/27/2017

perch on the porch

 the days warmer air

has not disappeared as the darkness creeps

extremely comfortable

finally have a fire going 

and it's still spring

don't need it for light or heat or food

just for something to do

night off from having to wake before dawn

will still hear planes overhead

and the occasional helicopter

and below the crackle of the fire

looking down from my perch on the porch...

putting in hours

 putting in hours

2 separate places

trying to stack some of those riches

they speak of

and of course it is never enough

by design

holding the balance better

than ever before

maybe it's taken too long

but lesson learned

can only take it from here

moving onward and upward

maybe older does bring the wiser thoughts

the smokey haze creates called

this too requires putting in hours...

eve of forty-2

on the eve of forty-two
not even sure how it happened
youngest member of the family
home merely forty-eight hours old
watched my mother holding her
she looked at me remembering
forty-two years ago
it was I being held as first born
somewhat saddened a bit
without my own progeny
but it won’t slow me down
still push on every day
and appreciate every branch
of the family tree with roots
running deep and true
on the eve of forty-two
years I appreciate
my spot in this reality
and all of my surroundings...

pushing up green knuckles

pushing up green knuckles
spring brings warm
and the ground is ready
to spring forth new life
pushing up myself
twenty five at a time
four times a day
keeping the core strong
hoping to replicate
last years crop
and push out some more
pushing up green knuckles
reaching for the sun
even though it’s been
separated from us
by layers of clouds
every week for a month
many hours of rain and clouds
with hope pushing up
green knuckles
seeing sun soon...

spring night sounds

chill in the air
but the day was warm
night cooled it down quick
but cold nights seems
to be gone
fire from across the yard
hear it snap and pop
along with all the other
spring night sounds
we all know the sound
night silence makes
especially being here
forty years same childhood
sounds watching my nephews
and niece grow up on the same
land and rolling through
the memories
how these forty years have
brought about so much change...

420 all day anyway

six strains in the bag
the day began early
absolutely above the clouds
talked to the former Mrs
the guilt wave never misses
any day and with herb eye pray
Jah saw another path
able to maintain above the clouds
years never missing a day
today is a day for everyone to step
up and raise one up to the sky
burn one down to be high in the mind
plant put here no different
than all the rest
six strains locally grown
all the derogatory comments
have now become compliments
to the confidence in the healing
properties of the herb
no matter four twenty or not
riding on another plane
as one roars overhead
like the clouds blown
they are my own
started off with
six strains in the bag...

escaping time

time just escapes
at times ironic, no?
time never stops
but days pass between writings
in the book
thoughts pop up
like colors
the flowers start
to pop too
around the pond
the landscape is
constantly changing...

confusion

dropping bombs again
who knows who
is lying now
what’s the point
trying not to hurt anyone
in my daily journey
to where I need to go
delivery on the way
something needs to be done
as the wind picks up
ten pages to slap the writing hand
and lose the train of thought
the wind picks up
and delivers confusion…

sixteen years

hard to believe
it’s been sixteen years
trying to bring back memories
without bringing back sadness
for those tough years
we could never forget
standing in the rain
shoes are going to get wet
hard to believe
sixteen years have passed
and it seems but a little more
than a blink of these eyes...

helps me figure out

don’t know where
things are headed
only can prove
what is provable
only know where I have been
see how much
everything has changed
watching everything
around me grow
this time of year
the little green tips poke through
in the flower gardens around the yard
don’t know everything
only what these eyes
help me see
and what this mind
helps me figure out...

falling behind

overcast and colder
hoped for spring today
but it hasn’t quite arrived
falling behind editing
the thoughts hoping
to break through someday
and come up with another idea
one that will take off into space
inward traveling to find out
where I am going
and where I have been
probably get down
with a quick nap
then build something great…

sending smoke signals

these days it seems harder
digging to get up on some
thoughts can’t wait
until new thoughts
begin to grow
some days it’s easy
to drop down some thoughts
on science or the lack there of
at least experimenting again
with a brand new crop
hopefully it will be fruitful
these day the mind doesn’t stop
but the pen arm page creation device
has been lazy I must say
don’t even mind the weather today
overcast is what they call it
but I am sitting solo
sending smoke signals
to someone who sees
the stars as I do
and visits me every morning...

can't abandon myself

can’t abandon
the pen and the page
been with me through
the toughest of times
still standing here
feet firmly planted
again as if spring
begins a rasta vibration
within thoughts
some twenty-five years old
can’t abandon the self
at times I know I would like to
lost in the wind watch
the bare trees bend
how long now until
everything springs into
new life...

evidence of un-truth

it’s not
that I have run out
of things to write
haven’t run out of inspiration
everyday the world around me
inspires me to push on
despite any and all hurdles
first book is fifteen years old
second book is thirteen
might be time to bring out
some of the older thoughts
in the stacks of dusty books
random thoughts in very
different frames of mind
always necessary to be willing
to change and it’s obvious
once sen in hindsight
helps in the editing process
as much as visionary thoughts
forward full steam
sometimes I do wish it made sense
why would they lie
and how could no one
question it when looking
at the evidence of un-truth...

stuck in the mind

pen stuck in the mind
style inside while
a blizzard visits
supposedly four or five
inches maybe more
expected before rain
interrupts pi day
in case it really is
some sort of code
to interpret
what it all means
pen moving still stuck
moving slowly
until free from the
mind funk keeping those
thoughts on the other side
behind a wall and snow
today rain tonight
or so they say
but do they ever
really know...

flip it to page

under bright sun
trying to flip it
to the page
can see myself
exhale with that
holy smoke and even without
because that air
is still cold
March is holding on
to it’s cold edge
the lazy afternoon
probably deserves a nap
as well under a thick blanket
flip it to an unconscious
state or so they say...

up early again

up early on a day
without work
still cold and even though
February brought higher
than normal temperatures
today it’s cold again
the sky is clear
and so is my mind
and for so long
was told the opposite
that I might in fact
be clouding it up
but truth has revealed
itself to me…

up early and out with
a true friend
and I could be her son
we are friends that work
at the same place
we talked up early
for good reason
spoke for sometime
then parted ways…

up early as the sun
warms the patio and table
moved from the porch
twenty feet away
merely pointing out the obvious
but it’s like push-ups
for no good reason
except to keep up the strength
trying to strengthen all
the aspects of my life
once again up early
for that reason as well...

completely possible

wouldn’t say I have
given up completely
on poetics but sometimes
the random thoughts are all
I have left wouldn’t even say
that’s a bad thing
just where it is going
from here on out
always kept it journalesque
but now the life living
has become somewhat dull
wouldn't say my mind has but
the day to day has become mundane
wouldn’t say I am unhappy
this wouldn’t be true
just hard to get excited
when everyday seems the same
wouldn’t say I don’t have the will
and power to change all of this
at times motivation avoids my table
my spot in this place
have to make a point
to activate and somehow
harness said motivation
wouldn’t say this is impossible...