poetry

A Woman Without A Cause

We make judgments about the world, about people.

The hardest thing about having eyes is the seeing.  It’s a dangerous thing to have 20/20 vision.

My eyes are getting old, and I think it is a good decline-to not see the clear edges of things anymore-for things to be a little fuzzy.

I suspect it is injuries that have diminished my sight- blows to my pride.

I don’t have a single cause. I don’t see the clear edges of any idea.

Dogmatic- the ability to see clearly.

But we see badly, and we cannot see it.

 

 

poetry · Uncategorized

Whole Food

What do you eat
One apple cut two
Drink a half glass
Of grandpa’s home brew
Legs and thighs
Pieces and parts
Chopped and diced
Arranged a la carte
Parsing and plating
Never reach full
Make me a salad
A bowl full of cruel
We slice at the heart
We carve at the bone
Wheat never looked
So horrifically calzoned
I dream of no knife
Or division asunder
Whole food at the altar
Man’s sweet Newton Wonder
 

friendship · poetry

The Friendzy

Maybe I should sit down.
Maybe I’m tired.
Blow smoke or tip a glass,
Or not. Because I don’t smoke.
Sounds good to me.
Until it’s here…the moment…when I realize
there’s no way.
To make sense would be to hide away,
But the crowd has left the room.
The crowd does all the talking.
To stand alone but not away is not possible.
You are with us now.
But I still want to smoke. Blow smoke
rings in the air.
I still want to hide but not from you.
The gang is gathering up at Charlie’s.
Since when are we friends with him?
With them?
No place to lay my head.
My head hurts.  I wake up
and my head hurts.
Maybe I am tired.
But Charlie never sleeps.
We never sleep.
Too caught up in the friendzy.
I wish I smoked.

~Mandy

 

cleaning · cooking · fall · family · homemaking · motherhood · poetry

Housework

No scouring for pride
Spare kettle whole side
Though scouring be needful, yet scouring too much
Is pride without profit, and robbeth thine hutch.
-Thomas Tusser
poetry

Wasting

“Wasted”

Brandi Carlile Lyrics

If you had eyes like golden crowns and
diamonds in your fingertips you’d waste it
If shining wisdom passed your lips and
traveled to the ears of God you’d waste it
And so I hate that you’re overrated most
revered and celebrated because you’ll waste it

Then again it’s good to get a call
Now and then just to say hello
Have I said I hate to see you go
I hate to see you go

But ever time you close a door and nothing
opens in its place you’ve wasted
And when you speak the words you know
to those who know the words themselves
you’ve wasted
You’re such a classic waste of cool, so afraid to
break the rules in all the wrong places

Then again it’s good to get a call
Now and then just to say hello
Have I said I hate to see you go
I hate to see you go




family · fun · poetry · seasons

In Flanders Fields

Van Gogh, Field of Poppies
 In Flanders Fields
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.  
John McCrae, May 1915
May everyone have a blessed Memorial Day as we honor those who gave so much.  And to those who are serving…to their families.  Thank you.

faith · family · http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008/kind#post · learning · Orthodoxy · poetry

God is Love

 “God is love.” This is, for me, the greatest theological truth.

May we struggle to forgive those who have hurt us.  May we beg mercy from those we have hurt….

All that this week is, it is nothing without Love.

Enlighten my mind with the light of understanding of Thy Holy Gospel; my soul with the love of Thy Cross; my heart with the purity of Thy word; my body, with Thy passionless Passion. Keep my thought in Thy humility, and raise me up at the proper time for Thy glorification. For most glorified art Thou, together with Thine unoriginate Father, and the Most Holy Spirit, unto the ages.    St. Antiochus