Winter Magic

Winter Magic

her profile altered

by blue swirls and a snowman

rendered in face paint

surrounded by twirls of snow

framed by her beautiful smile

by judy Beaston

December 1, 2013

happy - a poem

happy

single yellow blossom

dancing in an open meadow

inhaling life - exhaling joy

Where did Autumn go?

Summer splendor slipped with little fanfare into the transition days of fall -- some demanding more of summer's heat and others teasing with winter's chill, and we even tasted nature's liquid refreshment, long-missing this season.

September danced with eagerness upon new endeavors -- school for everyone, all five members of this household, this fall. That varied across age-lines, of course.

The youngest, Jayden, proudly dons his fox design red backpack every morning as he heads to daycare/preschool.

His older sister slips on a bigger, heavier version and with equal gusto, heads off to first grade.

Their mom returned to university this fall, a shift from pre-school teacher to a career in electronics on her horizon; while their dad continued his own college courses also directing him into the field of engineering.

Meanwhile, Nana (that's me) dove into a mix of writing and poetry courses and projects, balancing (without much success) those with the return of community band rehearsals and plans for a remodel of the kitchen.

All that to say -- GOOD GRIEF, my last entry was in August and we're fast approaching Thanksgiving already.  I was reminded by a poet friend today that my blog was a bit dated - a polite understatement.

I'll be writing midst dust and noise and a missing kitchen soon -- stay tuned...

Visiting Portland's Japanese Garden

Japanese Garden Pond

sheltered by green trees,

stone pagoda guards quiet

garden pond, dancing

waterfall sings harmony

invites peaceful reflection

by judy Beaston

August 11, 2013

Chalked

No Body Here

Morning calls,

my groggy body replies;

first the cat's demands

meted out from a tin can,

then yogic breathing,

stretches loosen limbs,

eyes open wider;

blood flows, creaking,

groaning joints move free.

I open my front door,

cross the threshold, step

onto an accident scene,

the body's outline chalked

upon the concrete walkway

mere inches from the doormat

bidding all "WELCOME!"

Chalked images of shoes rest

next to the figure, lined up

as if he were merely sleeping,

a transient who stopped by

having heard about a party,

or so I speculate when I notice

the party popper in – no "on" –

his chalked hand. You know

the ones – they send confetti

and more into the air at the pull

of a simple string. Poor guy

appears nude, his butt outlined

in soft, curved, yellow powder.

A heart placed near the house

completes the picture, perhaps,

or as a message that all is in fun,

a non-malicious game by teens

at a summer party, their thrill

my shock as I take gentle steps

past this crime scene outline

and retrieve my morning paper.

summer pleasures

polished

feet, glorious feet

guide our walks from here to there

toes freed or toes crimped

inside socks and pointed shoes

or laughing with painted nails

by judy beaston

July 1, 2013

With summer comes the pleasure of exposed feet and toes and an opportunity to decorate toenails in bright colors, even add flowers. My feet smile when the weather allows for more freedom. There's just no breathing inside winter's socks, no matter how thin the fabric. 

The above photo represents three generations enjoying the fun, and we each included flowers on our toes. I must admit, that was/is a first for me. I'm not generally one to gravitate toward painted nails on either hands or feet, but the opportunity to share the experience with my daughter and granddaughter could not be passed up.

Bonneville

Tonight I watched Bonneville - an old movie. I've seen it several times over the years. But, it spoke to me again tonight - about the importance of releasing the past and of embracing life right now.

So easy to hold on to the physical connections to memories, good times and puzzling ones, joyous adventures and those we'd sooner forget but hold on to them because they are threaded with important parts of self.

By releasing, we - I - make room for today, for new adventures and for reasons to weave the old into the new - opportunities to create a beautiful new pattern in the tapestry of my life.

Who Ordered Pizza?

A new tale wove into existence this month, sparked by a flash fiction challenge created by my writing friend Mysti Parker. She posted it on her website today and I'm smiling. There's just something special about finding my stories living a life of their own, out there where at least a few others will read them, hopefully feel a bit of pleasure for having read them.

If so motivated, you can find the story here:
http://mystiparker.blogspot.com/2013/05/call-me-maybe-flash-fiction-19-who.html?spref=fb

Family Album - Full Circle

Full Circle

connections sing three-part harmony,

from the shadows, a deep bass resonates

accompaniment - wisdom and love

passed on from father, mother

to daughter, son

each awed by the presence of the others,

bonded by invisible elements

linked by genes, blood, the essence

of human existence.

by judy Beaston

May 2, 2013

Poetry - Devil's Lake, Wisconsin

Devil’s Lake, Wisconsin

on the cusp of fall

remnants of summer still tempt

boats wait on sandy shore

hills promise tranquil journeys

fair weather guests have gone home

 

Photo by Judy Beaston, September 2012

Poem by Judy Beaston, April 2013

A Writer's Place - tanka

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A Writer’s Place

dreams hidden below

office landscapes, beg a song

their story be told

how ideas flowed, gave them life

then held them frozen in time

simple collections

gather upon the palettes

of creative minds

story snippets, colored notes

pregnant keyboard awaits birth

Photo and poetry by Judy Beaston, 2013

Cannon Beach - a tanka

Cannon Beach

ocean air dances

sand, salt, and sea spray hold hands

coax beach wanderers

onto soft sandy reaches

for long walks, meditation

Photo and poem by Judy Beaston

tanka - spring synergy

spring synergy

winter’s chill undone

beneath clear warmth of spring’s sun

stretched upon the deck

slender cat soothes aging joints

eyes closed, body drinks pure bliss

Photo by Judy Beaston

Poem by Judy Beaston, April 26, 2013

poetry - tanka

flower field

waning rays’ soft glow

deepens tulip buds’ blushes

magenta, crimson

soldier on, row after row

silent stewards of beauty

Photo - Bing.com/images, Tulip Field, wallpaper 
Poem by Judy Beaston, April 25, 2013

Charmed by Spring

Took most of the day off to step back into nature by visiting the Japanese Garden here in Portland. The tranquility refreshes me, even with other people wandering around. I took my time, breathed in the colors, the energized silence. I actually prefer being alone here. When I visit with a friend, words break the spell too often.

I was surrounded by some elegant pink blossomed trees, a few strong reds and the promise of much growth to come. Promise - a good word. The promise of releasing the weight of the busyness of life, the promise of shaking off winter and embracing the energy of new life and the promise of what waits when I return - soon - for my next visit.

Perhaps tomorrow, a poem...

Spring into writing

Been chasing down my muse today. Weather's nice, dry and partly sunny - a plus for the Pacific Northwest. Creativity churns when my muse goes on holiday without me. The pieces left behind become a rather disorderly bunch and there's just no getting the words, phrases and ideas to line up in any sensible, ready for writing order.  Even so, I pulled this one together last night. Hope you enjoy it, maybe recognize some of your own days when creative expression is challenged.

While the Muse is Away

I am a poet,

my pockets overflow

with letters, words,

ideas, snappy phrases,

like sensible shoes, each of them

capable of long journeys,

comfortable as well for brevity,

eager for journeys to ocean beaches,

Puget Sound, Mt. Saint Helens, empty

now of her pent up rage, her cauldron

contents less volatile than long ago.

Pockets emptied onto the desk,

sorted, they prove a rambunctious,

disorderly lot, unwilling to gather

in any sort of poetic line-up,

I’m thinking maybe a few mug shots

might snap them into attention.

Wearied now, I catch a giggle,

then another – before long

my resistance fades, laughter

bubbles within, face forms a smile,

shoulders relax and I sigh, accept

my muse’s absence and reach

for a mighty fine wine, comfortable

chair and an engaging book.

by judy Beaston

March 23, 2013

Heading into 2013

Not just another year

Born this day a few decades past,

a journey undertaken for adventure,

exploration of human existence,

the unfolding of a lily in the morning,

dances of the bees at noon,

soaring on the wings of a hawk

through warm afternoon skies.

And now? The hawk circles, locates

another thermal, rides ever higher,

the world a vast uncharted vista

with much yet to discover, experience;

too soon to find the evening metaphor,

knowing this is not just another year.

by judy Beaston

January 31, 2013