Happy Mother's Day, Mama

Happy Mother's Day, Mama!

I was thinking of you today at church, wondering what kind of Heaven you'd ended up in, and I realized I already knew.

In one of our Father's many mansions, lives my mother.  She has lots of people around her, the ones she cared about.  She lives in an immaculate residence, simple, but with touches of luxury about her.  Her bath is large and warm, her bathtub is a very large pearl, and there are glints of gold in the decoration.

When she cares to eat, she has the best of food, with plenty of cream and butter and salt and pepper.  She has a dark chocolate every now and then.  She hears hints of Latin and French, which she learned at (an American public) high school in Temple, Texas, and of which she taught me a little, getting me started when I was a little child.  "Il etait une berger-uh," she would sing, and still does.

When she wants for company, she has her child cousins about, and she discovers she's a child again herself and plays with them contentedly. Sometimes she thinks of a friend from her adult years, and shares time with that person too.  One wonders if she thinks of my father, though I think he lives in another mansion, one suited just for his unique self.

My mother is not inclined to travel, so she is happy in her beautiful house.  She has a few books and reads them seldom.  Since her eyes have improved remarkably, she enjoys her crossword puzzles.  A little walk around the grounds is permissible, and she walks there admiring the gardens.  She especially likes the carnations, I think, and their spicy smell.  So do I, Mama.

A happy Mother's Day to you and to all of us, Mama!   YAZZYBEL

Well, There Went Poetry Month!

Good evening!!

Apparently my attempts at verse brought down the ire of my Muse, for all efforts were thwarted a couple of weeks ago when Theodore had to go to the hospital and the nursing home.

I was smitten by my continuing asthma and coughing, as well, and exhausted from driving and running back and forth.

Poetic ambition was stifled, for the time being. But I am going to pick up the thread now and try to keep a similacrum of a blog going along.  That's all for now.  I just got a cute picture of Foxy with his new haircut and I'd put it on if I had the Capability.  Too many retarded handicaps, moi. LOVE TO ALL< YAZZYBEL

Three Chards, Two Kales

Yes, three chards and two kales comprise our entire vegetable garden at this time. It's surprising how much we have wrung out of them. They are the sole survivors of a couple of those little six packs you buy at the Home Depot. Most of the little plants died, but these five survived it all.

If you have a nice healthy plant, you can live off it for quite a while, just by picking off the outside leaves  and cooking those, leaving the center to grow more. Delightful!!!

Here's my poem for today:

Oh, no, it is raining again,
It's been cold since I can't say just when,
I want it to warm,
Get me out of my harm,
But I guess I must wheeze until then.

YAZZYBEL :(

Sisters, a poem

Born of the same blood,
Bred of the same bone,
We are most closely wrought.
We even look alike, and sound alike,
And yet, we've fought.
Who knows the sources of the pain
That made us snarl or cry, and yet again
Cling back together?
When will we learn that just between ourselves,
We are incomparable?

Best I Can do, Sorry

She breathed, she wheezed,
And tritely sneezed,
She tritely cursed
The doc and nurse,
She quaked and cried
And then she said
That she would rather stay abed.
But no, abed she shall not stay
To pick up meds  she'll  go today.

If Music Be the Food of Love

If Music Be the Food of Love


If music be the food of love,
Then let us play it.
But hey--I don't believe it.
The love of music is like love itself,
Selfish.  Single-minded.  Hard.
It may look for other music lovers,
But that's all.  We will not play and love
Another human soul, much less a body.
We'll play and love the music, truth to tell.
We'll not love another person half as well.

When My Sisters Went to Italy

I have been reading through old writings...interesting to read one's past...sad, sometimes. But I found a wonderful list sent by sister no. 5, when she and 4 went to Italy.
A list of the things she loved in Europe. It's so full of good things that it is practically a poem in itself.Let's see if we can play with it and make it be a poem.  There are twenty things in the list, too many, but yet not enough perhaps. Here is the list as no. 5 wrote it for me:

What Bandita Loved in Europe

1. Flying over the Alps from Brussels to Florence.
2. Freedom in the Italians' day (built into their day).
3. Happy noises in the piazzas
4.  Cell phones rule.
5.  Street merchants
6.  Even the maids are happy.
7.  Steamy hot water in the bathroom--it was a surprise.
8.  Marble carved as though it were real folds of skin--soft.
9.  Sister sleeping.
10.  Running with sister to the bus in Sienna-=we had no ticket nor did we know where the bus was going but we got on.
11. My breakfast bunch (sister never met them, as she slept in every a.m.) called her "Sleeping Beauty," and teased me that she didnt even exist.
12. No DAVID.
13.Lines and lines of serious looking Orientals
14.  The "HADJ" at the Brussels airport.
15. Sister's suitcase prolems.
16. Sister's Lira making machine in her purse.
17. Cellophane, colored foil wrapped bunnies and eggs, flowers--layers and layers of beautiful things.
18.  Found our way home by recognizing jewelry in shop windows.
19. Bored students at museum field trips
20. Electric cars--old women on bicycles and motorcycles.
21.  Nowhere to buy scotch tape and other mundane things.
22.shutters
23.cypress trees
24. Women in flea markets bitches (merchants) men merchants kind.
25. Colors of bldgs==colors in frescoes--patterns simple but very detailed
26.  Our closet filled with black
27. Eat, shop, walk, museums
28. vaulted ceilings
29. Siena!! the best
30. Sister shopping from duty free shop on plane
31. Brussels--statues very military, order, clean, beautiful.
32. Italy--restoration going on everywhere.

I can't make a better poem of it than that! It's too good, too full of feeling and images. I don't think I'll try. 

I wrote a bunch of haikus when they went, on the topic of wooly underwear which I told them they'd want (March, after all) and they would not take. It was in looking for them that I found this list. If I find them, I'll put in a couple of them tomorrow, as I think they are funny.  But I think this list is wonderful.  An Italian trip in a nutshell. YAZZYBEL