Happy Birthday Brother Mine

Posted on August 18, 2012 by literarylee

Happy Birthday brother mine
I hope your special day is fine,

With lots of presents, treats and fun
For a brother and friend who’s second to none.

Today’s the day we celebrate
Your life. ‘Bout you we contemplate.

You’re honest, kind, compassionate,
No matter how you fashion it.

You value truth, you love the real
Without regard to how you feel.

A ready laugh, a winsome smile,
For folks you’d walk the extra mile.

And so, dear Curtis, hip, hip hooray
Take time today for fun and play

As family, friends, we honor you
And glad are we, we’re on your crew.

Posted in Original Poems | 2 Comments

Today’s the Day We Celebrate

Posted on August 16, 2012 by literarylee

Today’s the day
we celebrate
Our dear, our smart,
our lovely Kate.

To note this day,
we really oughta:
How could we ever
forget our Katya?

I’m serious here
I wouldn’t josh ya,
About how much
we admire Kasia

A clever, funny
thoughtful lady;
You make us laugh and think, 
Oh Katie.

Dill pickles, mayo
fresh sardines,
We really dig
sweet Kathleen.

So Happy Birthday
daughter dear.
We celebrate
this time of year.

Knowing you
is fun and games.
We also like
your many names.

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A House Without Gin

Posted on July 30, 2012 by literarylee

A house without gin
ain’t worth living in.

A house without whiskey
is a little too risky.

A house void of bourbon
is very disturbin’!

A house with no vodka
makes me wanna read Kafka.

A house with no schnapps
neither bounces nor hops.

A house without rum,
oh my, how dumb!

A house with no wine
is way outta line.

A house without beer
sorta fills me with fear.

A house void of brandy,
not fine, not dandy.

A house sans tequilla,
a really bad deal-ah.

A house without scotch,
I’d call it a botch.

A house lacks vermouth
that’s pretty uncouth.

A house with no port
ain’t really my sort.

A house with no rye
I’d not care to try.

No creme de la menthe:
a sad accident.

No creme de cassis:
disturbs my peace.

A house sans limoncello:
not easy, not mellow.

A house with no Pisco:
better move to Frisco.

A house with no curacao
makes me worry, and how!

A house without Triple-Sec:
Oh woe!  Oh heck!

A house with no drink:
sorta sad, I think.

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Seeing the Wild Redhead in the Median

Posted on July 19, 2012 by literarylee

Did anyone else see the fox I just saw?  It looked, hair-wise, like a relative of mine, a wild canine redhead with a silky bushy auburn tail (though neither my kin nor I have tails).  The lean creature loped slowly westward across the median of the parkway, maybe returning to its den after a night of hunting.  Looking out my window I saw the fox, watched it steadily, turned my head back, back as the bus roared down the road gradually leaving it behind.  I glanced forward at my fellow passengers and was not suprprised, though disappointed, that not one head was turned, not one pair of eyes strained for a final glance, not one other mouth hung agape at the small vulpine wonder, besides mine.

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Birthday Card to John

Posted on July 14, 2012 by literarylee

Happy Birthday John,
We think you’re really keen,
The very bestest cousin
That the world has ever seen.

We hope the day is happy,
And filled with celebration
And think, dear friend, that you deserve,
A rousing, grand ovation.

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Using every darned last inch of this costly journal down to the last line

Posted on June 26, 2012 by literarylee

I intend to use every darned inch of this journal.  I have these last two-point-five empty blank pages left before the whole thing is full.  Waste not want not.  Be frugal.  Be careful.  Check the balance.  Watch out, especially with your money.  And time is money and buying a fresh new journal is money, speaking of which (what an odd convolution: speaking of which) this journal is the first I’ve used in years that I went to go buy, go bye the bye, bye, bye.  I spent three thirty-nine or something for this which price, while buying it, felt expensive, expansive, expatriate (I bought it on a sojourn in a strange, foreign land, Chicago).  That’s actually cheap-cheap for the therapy it gives me, cheep-cheep for a medium (an artist’s, not a spiritualist).  I don’t use expensive paints and canvases or clay, cloy, claw, or fabrics (I should swath my writing room in textiles, apt decoration to accompany writing words, righting text) or fancy camera with schmantzy lenses, or a piano or violin or mandolin or any other music ano or lin or media, but just a writer’s notebook.  Yet I was still left with my thoughts, my own textiles running through my brain (sane?) the cost the cost, be careful.  Sorry hon, sorry kids, sorry dad and mom, sorry all and sundry, I spent three-thirty-nine (or was it three fifty-nine) on this journal.  First entry March twenty-nine, last entry four days for daze, fore dais-ey shy (my, my, my) of three months.  I s’pose a buck fifteen a month ain’t too bad, no not too bad, fairly frugal, friggin’ frugal, frighteningly frugal.  Couldah spent thirty bucks on a schmantzier version, still wouldah, couldah, shouldah been thirty cents a day, sense a  day, scents a-day.  Even a hundred buck journal, a dollar a day, a dollop a day.  Hey, hey.  Three-thirty-nine?  You kiddin?  That’s fine.

Posted in Original Poems, The Life Literary, Writing | 1 Comment

A Well-Seasoned Celebration

Posted on June 24, 2012 by literarylee

June 21, 2012

I want a way to note each of the year’s four seasonal watersheds, the two equinoxes that usher in Spring and Fall and mark the halfway point to extreme light or darkness, and the solstices, cosmic exclamation points that mark a solar yet very earthly  beginning and end, Summer and Winter.  I want this not only for me but for all the  members of the human family, we consumers of light and dark and the fruits of the earth.  I’m shooting for a celebration both raw and real, earthy and honest, cosmic and human.

I’m not sure anybody gets time right.  I’m pretty sure I get it especially wrong.  For example, today, the first day of summer and the longest day of the year, I am thinking: “This begins the headlong rush to the garden’s end, days inexorably shortening, shortening, until the frozen ground yields no fruit under winters hand, resting till spring.  (Am I odd to be thinking this on this day of record-setting heat?)  In my own mind I just planted this garden even though we’ve been eating lettuce for over three months now, plus chard, turnips, peas, onions and more.  And now I am  starting to pick okra, and see baby beans, peppers, and many small green tomatoes swelling with the promise of sweet ripeness.  I reflect and realize that frost (three months off) will not end my garden tomorrow, and a flood of fresh vegetables is still headed my way.  My poor sense of time and my tendency to focus on a moment in the future is part of why I want to mark the day the season changes.  Here are some thoughts I wrote down three months ago:

March 21, 2012 – The vernal equinox is today.  Once again the sun and the earth align in a particular way, handing people a sign post, a mile marker for the next stretch of living.  Today is the end of one season and the beginning of the next.  But on we  rush, busy, anxious, heedless, lost in our own thoughts or submerged in a little screen that connects to who knows what and blinds us to today’s milestone.  Sometimes, people really put the us in oblivious. Continue reading →

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The Rider Chronicles: A June Saturday With Rider

Posted on June 19, 2012 by literarylee

Our trip to Brooklyn a couple weekends ago was partly a gift for Rider’s father (he turned 27 that day) but mostly, naturally, another opportunity for Rider’s grandmother and me to spend time with our dear, sweet grandtyke.  Tending Rider and their business is a time and a half job for his parents.  There are not enough hours in the day for them to do all they need to do, let alone spend a few hours together, so they always welcome the opportunity to do that, and we welcome any time with our grandson.  Everybody is happy.  And besides, Rider’s mom had planned a birthday party for his dad and had invited some friends.  Not long after we arrived they departed and we spent an afternoon and evening with Rider.

Skyping with Aunt Kasia

Continue reading →

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Sunset Okra Surprise

Posted on June 14, 2012 by literarylee

Sounds like the name of a dish: Sunset Okra Surprise, like something a southern chef might have concocted.   It’s what delighted us yesterday at dusk.

We were hoping for a post-supper, post-Jeopardy wave of calm to wash over us but no, we knew we were antsy and discontent.  A brisk walk along the river might cure our malaise, we thought.  Before shoving off we cruised around the garden a little, reviewing the plants.  Sometimes I wonder how I muster the patience a gardener needs waiting for the garden to produce.  I’m not good at waiting.  Tending too often toward being antsy and discontented, toward performing tasks in what our daughter calls go-mode, I sometimes get impatient with how slowly plants grow.  Seed packets tell the story: tomatoes take 70 to 85 days from seed to harvest, bush beans, 50 to 65, winter squash, 90 to 105 and so it goes.  What a shame I can’t stand radishes; they win the seed to plate race at 30 to 45 days.  I’m trying to learn to quell my inner hasty but that process, like gardening, is pretty slow.  Such irony!

A fine, upstanding young okra plant, ready to get to work

Continue reading →

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Of Homemade Paper Pots

Posted on June 3, 2012 by literarylee

I’m making my own pots this year.  I treated myself this spring and am now the proud owner of a Pot Maker.   Do I like this odd little wooden tool because it represents the brilliant step I’ve taken toward being a more green and self sufficient gardener?  Can I, the owner of this wonder, allow myself a bit of a trendy swagger as I saunter through the garden?  Or am I pleased with this thing because it gives me a little more Control Over  Seeds, those mysterious packages of life I’m supposed to trust to the vagaries of the garden?

A pot-making garden wonder

I use this two-piece wooden implement (the thingy-ma-bobber) to make little pots out of strips of newspaper.  I’ve known for some time that such a marvel of garden technology existed, and have wanted one ever since.  Until I finally purchased this sleek bit of seed starting equipment, however, I had no idea how it worked.  Do the paper pots need to be glued or taped to hold together, I wondered?  What a clever idea, I thought, impressed that with this low-tech piece of ingenious wizardry I can recycle newspaper (albeit little bits at a time) and make garden pots almost for free. Continue reading →

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