Viewing entries in
"family"

Silence's Voice

Such a wondrous, bellowing creature is silence.
Screaming prerecorded messages
Demands for fulfillment
of parental needs

An eccentric racket, noisy nymph
Promoting historic agendas
Commands for realizing
Ancestors' wants

Such a wondrous, noisy nymph
Is Silence
Personally, I'm inclined to hear whispers more

Repost - I Found Myself Humming

I found myself
Humming into the mattress
With you
It was an accidental thing
An exhale that sent a slight vibration
Through the sheets
I enjoyed the sound
The sense
Of my humming
Beside you – with you
The vibrant ripples made me giggle
And roll joyfully
Leaving all tension and alarm
and there
I found myself
Humming
Into the mattress
With you.

Poem by Unremembered Author

When I was in elementary school, I was given the assignment to memorize a poem. I found one at my home, tucked into a book and learned it proudly.  Today I do not know who wrote it and haven't been able to find the author's name, but I remember the poem. If you happen to know of the author, I'd love to be informed.

A  Friend

I want to help you all I can
In all I say or do
Because you are so friendly
And I think the world of you

My services, however great
May not amount to much
But they are always your to use
By any sound or touch

I want to keep you comforted
And turn your tears away
And carry out whatever wish
Your loving lips may say

I want to keep you smiling
And forever to be sure
That you possess the happiness
That surely will endure

-Unknown

Brookgreen Gardens Series - Chapter 1

One of the best kept secrets in South Carolina is Brookgreen Gardens. This antebellum estate setting, now the home of outdoor statuary, towering live oaks and pristine gardens has a history dating back to 1931. Archer and Anna Hyatt Huntington, founded Brookgreen Gardens, a non-profit 501(c) (3) garden museum, to preserve the native flora and fauna and display objects of art within that natural setting.
Brookgreen Gardens is a National Historic Landmark with the most significant collection of figurative sculpture, in an outdoor setting, by American artists in the world. Brookgreen has the only zoo accredited by the Association of Zoos and Aquariums on the coast of the Carolinas.

I grew up less than 20 miles from Brookgreen Gardens. In the mid 1960's, my mother would retreat to this quiet setting to reflect and heal spiritually following the untimely death of my father. Finding a special place of both natural and artistic beauty she later made this place a regular destination for her family - my sister, brother and me. The statues towered above us and the trees stretched out above us, offering us inspiration and shelter for all of the maladies of the often noisy and mundane chores of life. I grew up in the embrace of these gardens and there is no place I know that captures such a rich resource of art (poetry, sculpture, architecture, landscape), nature (200 year old oaks, giant azalea plants with palm size flowers, Spanish moss, native flora and fauna) and history (tales of the developing South, rice plantations, early trade, the beginning of ethnic diversity).

One of Anna Hyatt's pieces that resides in my mind is "Jaguar." One of a pair of sculptures in bronze, this depiction of a life size beast, poised to jump always captured my attention as a child. It still does.




Brook Green Garden Series - Prelude


This past Saturday I went to Brook Green Gardens, one of my favorite places on the planet. I have much to share with you in picture, word and reflection over the next few posts. So, visit the link to the website and enjoy the photo above - much more to come.

Hawk Medicine


The hawks are really out and vocal today. We get this every Spring, a few days when they seem to defy their reputation of being elusive. They soar, gliding from one roost to another. Screaming and taunting each other. It is wonderful to watch.

I remember, as a child, always longing to see birds of prey. We didn't see many. Occasionally when we would travel to the mountains, or more inland areas I would see a large bird soaring in to sky, Too often it was a vulture or raven. Then, sometimes, it wouldn't be. Sometimes it would be a hawk, or a Sea Hawk - gliding on the currents, mastering the skies - waiting to deal death to some unsuspecting prey.

Today, my wife is fond of calling any sighting of a hawk "Hawk Medicine." Her sense of respectful coexistence with birds of prey is almost reverent.

Birds of prey (raptors) are wonderful creatures and often misunderstood. Interactions of almost any kind with humans is perilous to raptors. They are best observed from afar. If you want to learn more about the life and precarious existence of these regal birds, click over here to a brief essay, compliments of Stanford.


Not A Dead End - Signs and Words


I am a committed believer that the right words work wonders and the wrong words go nowhere.

Just down the road from us is the local Hospice Care Center. Hospice is an amazing organization and I have the utmost respect for their work. I am even close personal friends with one of the early 'founders' of the organization, Elizabeth Callari.

To get to the Hospice Center near me, you turn off of a busy thoroughfare and onto a side street that ends just beyond the Center. I just heard a curious fact recently. Apparently, the city had to be persuaded to replace the DEAD END sign with a NO OUTLET sign at the entrance to the street.

Am I wrong for finding humor in this?

An Evening With Spike Lee


I spent some time over at Wake Forest University this evening listening to Spike Lee deliver the keynote address for the Reynolda Film Festival here in Winston-Salem, North Carolina.

His comments were passionate and targeted at encouraging young adults to find and pursue the thing(s) that make them happy and about which they are passionate. One poignant statement was when he was discussing how often the dreams and passions of young people don't fit with the expectations of their parents. Mr. Lee said, "Parents destroy more dreams than anyone else." Powerful words of warning and awareness.

I know my parents/grandparents did their best and I also know - in hind sight - that they did not encourage the best of my gifts. I am by talent and nature an entertainer. I love to act, write, and speak publicly. They just didn't have the vision to see how pursuing these arts would be helpful to me.

So, I'm wondering... did you have to swim upstream against the expectations of your parents in order to pursue a dream? did they destroy yours?


Note: Image courtesy of Free Digital Images

Relief - A Tale from the Seaside




Before the lightning flashes, clouds roll in bringing with them a promise of relief from the incessant heat and the potential of a light show over the sea. There is nothing so comforting as a summer evening thunder storm at the coast.

Their regular appearance with their own assembly of sound, light (amazing light) and a palpable embrace. It's the drop in barometric pressure, so they tell me, that creates the change in the air. the air seems to at once feel lighter and more dense with moisture as it brushes against you: an ascending wave of breeze upon breeze. The air smells of salt and sea just before the storm.

Perhaps the sensations are so powerful because of all bare skin; the taut, tanned skin of youthfulness, proclaiming would be eternal beauty and undaunted vigor, feeling every ray of sun, every grain of sand, every coming drop of rain.

Memory tells the story now... Here I felt the world, alive and full. I felt the storms. Here I would grab you by the hand and rush to the beach as the clouds darkened the sky and the breeze began to chase us. Sunbathers scattered for shelter and we would run against the current of people to the beach and scurry like sand fiddlers into the large wooden float box positioned with it's one open side facing the ocean. There we would settle in, giggling and shuffling into our place among the sandy floats, into each other's arms and wait for the show to begin.

Drops would fall, making small dimples in the sand and then give way to sheets of rain, blown sideways by the wind folding them like sheets - waving to us. The light would fade and burst in flashes. Then the moment would come when, framed by the window of our shelter we would see a jagged bolt of lightning descend in to the sea. We would shut our eyes and capture the image of that bolt now cut into the fabric of our souls as we felt the thunder - thunder into us. We would hold each other tightly as we shared the storm between us. I remember your bare back hot beneath my hands, the texture of your lips, and the taste of you.

Lightning flashes. Clouds roll in, bringing with them the promise of relief...


Note: image courtesy of Free Digital Photos

The Puppet Man



The Puppet Man

pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears or ease my pain

see my marionettes take your stage
watch your laughter, feel your rage
safely sitting
program in hand
three cheers for the puppet man

pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears, ease my pain

i see your faces, swoons and frowns
watching fixed, puppet take puppet down
they're not real, you carefully remind
while i silently die standing behind

pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears, ease my pain

with human hate they dance for you
showing the worst the we can do
superb! delight! encore' you shout
so once more the toys come out

pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears, ease my pain

the lights are gone, empty isles now
i fall broken, wondering how
these hands will heal, gather strength again
so, you can watch through my gift, friend

pull the string, watch the dolls dance
blood runs from my finger tips
maybe this time it will change
calm my fears, ease my pain

see my marionettes take your stage
watch your laughter, feel your rage
safely sitting program in hand
three cheers for the puppet man

*note: i wrote this poem a few years back while struggling with managing the internal demands that i often felt from others' external behavior around me. i think as children we often take on the role of performing for the 'big' people in our world - and although maturity requires us to grow more autonomous, we many of us struggle well into adulthood to perform for others... it is only a problem when the price is our very health, peace and well being.

**Photo used by permission