Older Writings...

Someone once said that writing is a great outlet. I am occasionally surprised at how my brain works. These days, I wake up in the morning or after my afternoon nap and words seem to flow. I feel a need to put them down.

Before blogging, I loved assignments in grade school when we were encouraged to write poems and stories. I  wrote a few short stories and poems and my mother saved them in a folder. I do remember when it started up again. When I was working in a cabinet manufacturing plant and using a knee operated chopper to cut wood in different lengths, words would form in my “other” mind and I would have to repeat them to myself until I arrived home to quickly put them on paper. That was in 1973 through 1980.

Now they are pushing at me again! I think the words just hide and dance in my head until I’m forced to recognize that they are there and then they must be expressed so I put them together and release them. It doesn’t seem to be a thinking process but it’s a delivery. I can go years without the words flowing, but when they do, well…

Probably this doesn’t make sense to anyone except me. 

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Survival or defeat? 

 Wish I could remember what prompted this one!

Finale - Complete Piece

In tattered sweater with holes and pins, she hobbles from her bed,
The fire is low, she must get coal, it’s out there in the shed.
Her eyes peep through the crusty glass, they see their distant goal…
It once was near but now it’s far, offends her weary soul.
Her man is gone, a fine man too, he used to gather wood.
She does her best to carry on, for once, her life was good.
The milk was sweet, the sun was warm, her children--how they grew!
They’ve left her now, the fondest things, she’s bid them all adieu.
But back to now--with daily chores to wear her strength away,
She must get coal to warm her bones, to live another day.
With strong determination to reach her destination,
The woman struggles on with legs of lead
Through ice and snow, Oh! Lord! the coal is gone!
Her muddled mind can’t comprehend that the final hour’s near.
It just can’t be! She’s ready though…
She’s waited all this year.

By Geraldine, November 1977

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Death and dying thoughts........

Exit - Complete Piece

He doesn’t know the time of day, the season or the year.
His kin have done the kindest thing--that’s why they put him here.
With inner anger, outer calm, he’ll show them all--you’ll see!
The plan is buzzing in his head, he ponders it with glee.
What matters when the meal is served, what hour he goes to sleep?
What matters if his socks don’t match, or if the snow is deep?
He soars above these lowly points to witness from afar,
His body crumpled, all askew, the doors are left ajar.

By Geraldine, November 1977

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A woman's right to change her mind.

Contradiction - Complete Piece

Don’t enter my castle! Don’t tread on my land!
Don’t breath my fresh air! Don’t reach out your hand!

Don’t bother to trouble! Don’t take time to care!
Just leave me alone! Stranger, beware!

Now see what you’ve done! Now look how you’ve meddled!
Now go along home! Now I’m unsettled!

Now where did he go? Now why did he leave?
Stranger, come back! I need a reprieve.

By Geraldine, August 1976

!!!!!!!!!!and there are more, MANY more............