Sun Kissed Days

Sun Kissed Days

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Outside My Heart

Tonight the sky is in it's glory,
I feel like I am a part of a Van Gogh painting.
The colors embrace me,
bathe me.
I lie down with the stars,
red, blue, purpule.
I roll from one to another,
the night sky my playground,
and then I think of you.
Dad, can you see the moon
from your window in heaven ?
Do the stars kiss you goodnight ?
Do you ask the moon to come to my door
and wait until I smile,
the way I smiled when you gently kissed
my eyelids at night.
I long for those kisses,
I long to hear your voice,
my soul longs for your embrace.
The moon knows my longing,
she whispers in my ear,
I close my eyes while the moon watches
me fall asleep.  Join us where we share our thoughts and our hearts. The painting above is Starry Night by Van Gogh. It's one of my favorite paintings. This poem is for my dad, the man that fed me love and art.

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Food For The Soul

The alley is filled with the fragrant aromas
of sour, sweet and salty.
The smells a silent invitation.
The streets of Bangkok,
filled with mystery,
and magic of the unknown.
A small market, stacked with canned soups,
a quick fix to a tired soul.
His thoughts wander home,
mom dices the potatoes,
shreds carrots,
hovers and tastes,
recreates a soup his grandmother
made him as a boy.
A world away he thinks of the past,
and the present.
His eyes feast at the colors
of red and green curry to soothe the soul.
Jasmine rice,
dishes mixed with
sweet and spicy,
just the way life should be.

This photo is a part of a prompt of When I saw the photograph I thought of how much my son Josh loves my soup. It's a potato soup that my mom used to make for him when he was a child. Then I thought about today, he is 26 and a grown man. Today he left to Thailand on a medical mission. My thoughts are with him, and I feel so proud of him.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Her Needlepoint

life is a journey,
that took us through storms,
and tangled woods,
and dark places.
Remember our home,
warm and loving.
We built forts
out of pillows and bedsheets.
We pretended to be cowboys,
like the ones we watched in the local theater.
Italian western films with subtitles,
starring Giuliano Gemma,
an actor no one remembers.
But I remember his full lips
and dark eyes that drew me in.
I was the tag along baby sister,
that you dragged with you,
as you voiced your protest on deaf ears.
My eyes wide open,
to your mischief,
flirtations with girls
and nonsense talk with your friends,
attempting to keep your secrets.
A cigarette you used as a bribe,
to keep my mouth shut.
You explained french kissing at seven to me,
since I overheard you with your friends.
You lured me into playing cards,
and you won my allowance,
until I got wise.
Simple days,
childhood memories,
a lifetime ,
we have shared.
As we laid mom to rest next to dad,
we shared tears,
our heartbreak would leave scars on our soul.
Home, far away,
across the ocean.
Memories that will remain,
in our hearts,
in our veins,
in the canvas of the needlepoint,
mom stitched called life.

I have two brothers that I love. My older one is eleven years older than me, so we didn't get to share some early memories that I am sharing about my other brother. He is five years older than I am and this is a snapshot of some of our memories. Join us here where we share our thoughts and our hearts. The photo above is of Giuliano Gemma, the Italian actor mentioned in this poem.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

The Call

He calls from distant shores,
at odd hours,
while the stars play hide and seek,
and wind whispers in his ear.
He calls home from distant shores,
where he finds peace on the ocean floor,
and comfort in the squeal of his rod.
He tells me tales of mosquitoes feasting on his skin,
while he celebrates another catch.
While he celebrates another day.
I hear laughter in his voice,
I can picture his eyes bright.
Long ago they shined,
in carefree summers,
thunderstorms awakened us ,
raindrops on the roof dancing,
romancing us from our sleep.
The phone dies down,
without any warning.
The last sound I hear are wind chimes,
engaged with the wind.
He will be gone another sunrise and
then he'll be back in my arms.  

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

My Valentine

I taste the ocean on your lips
as you devour mine.
The wind sings her song,
and runs her fingers through your hair,
but your heart belongs to me.
The waves lull you to sleep,
but you seek the fire in my eyes.
You find life in my desire,
as my heart melts in your hand.
A love note by the bed,
a single rose on the kitchen table,
knowing glances,
melted dark chocolate in a bowl,
a dance through our life.
You read me like a book,
inhaling my pages,
light and dark,
taking them in as your breath.
You carried me through sadness,
through emerald green fields,
through aquamarine waters.
Valentine's Day, every day.
Hard to remember,
that life is fragile,
only this moment promised.
Not always roses or sunshine,
not always picture perfect,
sweet and sour,
sane and insane,
but always true,
always me and you.

Dedicated to my husband, he is my love, my best friend and he is the one that makes me sane and insane. us here where we share our thoughts and our hearts.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

We Are One

Blue skies,
darkness within.
We cross lines,
we cross continents,
and time stands still.
Humanity cries,
but little or no action is taken.
I lie down with my brothers and sisters,
sheltered in their embrace.
We are connected in this vast universe,
under these blue skies.
We are one breath,
we are one people,
we are one.

This is a part of

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Mid Life Overhaul

The works,
oil change,
tire rotation,
with a free multi point inspection.
Imagine if there was one
for your soul too ?
Rotate the mind,
oil the bones,
extract the old,
replace with the new,
or is that the mid life crisis ?
A new sports car,
a trophy wife,
one that can't articulate a sentence
if her life depended on it.
She owns knee pads,
and tattoos with his name.
She acts helpless,
while he runs to her rescue.
She will drink him like a tall
glass of water,
and laugh at all his jokes.
His blood pumping,
heart racing ,
age is just a number he claims.
Yes, the works
oil change anyone?

I was sitting on a bench at Ford waiting to drop off our car. I saw this sign and started to write. This was inspired by a conversation I had with a friend of mine about men in her circle of friends. Meet us here where we share our thoughts and our hearts.

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Never Said Goodbye

She held my heart,
and lifted it to the heavens with
her love.
She died in a foreign land,
all alone.
She could not hear my cries,
she could not feel my embrace.
I was a child,
that carried my grief deep inside.
In my dreams she comes,
glorious as the ocean,
bright as the sun.
When I awaken she is gone.
I can't remember the sound of her voice,
all I remember is her loving smile.
I want to remember the smell of her hair,
I want to remember the softness.
I wish I was there when she left,
I wish I could make her resting place
as beautiful as she was.
I wish I could scatter flowers every day,
so her spirit can dance.
She is far away,
in a distant land,
but in my dreams she comes,
glorious as the ocean,
bright as the sun.

This poem is dedicated to my grandma Ginca. She passed away over thirty years ago in Romania. She was on vacation, she suffered a heart attack and fell into a diabetic coma. I never got to say goodbye to my beloved grandma. She was an amazing woman and I loved it with all my heart.
This is a part of the