Posts tagged dreams

The Last, Sweet Taste of “Mine”

January 11, 2015 · Filed under children, jugs, letting go, love, love as it matures, sharing, smiles, teehagers · Tagged children, dreams, family, growing up, kindness, love, teenagers, thoughfulness, times changing

My youngest son, I have endured so much,

loosing your brother, my parents, my health…

And all of that time, you have been here,

to give me the will to live, against all odds.

Now you are driving, dating, and someone else

is the love of your life. It hurts, but it is “life”.

The moments you come in and lay beside me,

let me rub your back or hair, whisper to me,

“I love you, mama.” and mean it, are so precious.

You envite me to go out with you and your friends,

You laugh with me, talk with me, tell me secrets.

I find myself wiping tears every day at loosing you-

as MY BABY, “MINE”. me-being number one in your life.

I’ve known in my heart that it would happen,

but not so soon, not so fast. My heart is broken,

yet I have to try and savor those days we had-

Those last sweet tastes of “Mine”, that I cherish.

I can only hope you will always find room

in your life for me-stay close, share those hugs.

I have your siblings and they love me,

but you are my baby and have breathed

life into a mom who was dying of grief.

Those Last Sweet Taste of “Mine” will never leave me.

Enjoy every second of any child you may have,

because while growing goes slowly for them,

it races by for you. You will always love them

in a way that is different from how they love you.

You would give them your life without thought,

Your last crumb of food or drink of water.

I love you my son, all of my children, with all I have.

My teen in heaven, you will always live in my heart.

My teen that is still here with me, messes and all-

To see you walk in the door, lay down your coat down

and crawl up to me with a hug and “How are you?”

Is still, will always be life its self to me, my child.

I dream of you, perhaps sometime, you might let me

sneak quietly into your dreams or even reality

and plant a flower or walk around the lake.with me.

We can never have too much love, and I will never

forget the love you gave that kept me alive.

My youngest son, I have endured so much,

loosing your brother, my parents, my health…

And all of that time, you have been here,

to give me the will to live, against all odds.

Now you are driving, dating, and someone else

is the love of your life. It hurts, but it is “life”.

The moments you come in and lay beside me,

let me rub your back or hair, whisper to me,

“I love you, mama.” and mean it, are so precious.

You envite me to go out with you and your friends,

You laugh with me, talk with me, tell me secrets.

I find myself wiping tears every day at loosing you-

as MY BABY, “MINE”. me-being number one in your life.

I’ve known in my heart that it would happen,

but not so soon, not so fast. My heart is broken,

yet I have to try and savor those days we had-

Those last sweet tastes of “Mine”, that I cherish.

I can only hope you will always find room

in your life for me-stay close, share those hugs.

I have your siblings and they love me,

but you are my baby and have breathed

life into a mom who was dying of grief.

Those Last Sweet Taste of “Mine” will never leave me.

Enjoy every second of any child you may have,

because while growing goes slowly for them,

it races by for you. You will always love them

in a way that is different from how they love you.

You would give them your life without though,

Your last crumb of food or drink of water.

I love you my son, all of my children, with all I have.

My teen in heaven, you will always live in my heart.

My teen that is still here with me, messes and all-

To see you walk in the door, lay down your coat down

and crawl up to me with a hug and “How are you?”

Is still, will always be life its self to me, my child.

I dream of you, perhaps sometime, you might let me

sneak quietly into your dreams or even reality

and plant a flower or walk around the lake with me.

We can never have too much love, and I will never

forget the love you gave that kept me alive.

My youngest son,I have endured so much,

loosing your brother, my parents, my health…

And all of that time, you have been here,

to give me the will to live, against all odds.

Now you are driving, dating, someone else

is the love of your life. It hurts, but it is “life”.

The moments you come in and lay beside me,

let me ruvb your back or hair, whisper to me,

“I love you, mama.” and mean it, are so precious.

You envite me to go out with you and your friends,

you laugh with me, talk with me, tell me secrets.

I find myself wiping tears every day at loosing you-

as MY BABY, MINE. me being number one in your life.

I’ve known in my heart that it would happen,

but not so soon,not so fast. My heart is broken,

yet I have to try and savor those days we had-

Those last sweet tastes of “Mine”, that I had.

I can only hope you will always find room

in your life for me-stay close,share those hugs.

I have your siblings and they love me,

but you are my babby and have breathed

life into a mom who was dying of grief.

Those Last Sweet Taste of “Mine” will never leave me.

Enjoy every second of any child you may have,

because while growing goes slowly for them,

it races by for you. You will always love them

in a way that is different from how they love you.

You would give them your life without though,

‘Your last crumb of food or drink of water.

I love you my son, all of my children with all I have.

My teen in heaven, you will always live in my heart.

To see you walk in the door, lay down your coat don

and crawl up to me with a hug and “How are you?”

Is still, will always be life itsself to me, my child

I dream of you, perhaps sometime, you might let me

sneak quietly into your dreams or even reality

and plant a flower or walk around the lake with me.

We can never have too much love, and I will never

forget the love you gave that kept me alive.

Comments (9) »

The Once and Future Homeplace

December 4, 2014 · Filed under farms, happiness, helping, hope, kindness, nature, nature studies, nostalgia, rural areas, sharing, togetherness · Tagged anger, developers, dreams, farms, gifts, happiness, loosing your land, memories, nostalgia, outdoors, tears of joy, togetherness

No! Stephie cried when she heard that her relatives were selling the family farm. She had begged her mother to help her save it and her mother was definitely an advocate of saving it, but it wasn’t “hers”. It wasn’t I her name and all of her begging and all of her daughter’s tears and heartfelt letters didn’t change what was to come.

Her mother described it as “like a death”, as they tried not to watch the bulldozers build roads and then driveways. Sometimes. They would swallow their pride and go on walks up the now, ruined valley that had once been so beautiful, so unusual, with its north side and south side and the different plant life that chooses each environment.

It was heart breaking to trudge over the humps of dirt where the developers were making roads. Stephie remembered the days when she had walked these hills with her grandmother, aunt and mother. She remembered the galax plants on the end of the north side and the stream where cattle had crossed, making it wider and melodious as it tumbled over the rocks. Stephie grew up going to the pasture with her mom and hunting “lizards and crayfish” in the creek. The memory of it was one of her childhood favorites.

Stephie was afraid of the cattle and the goat her grandparents kept in the pasture. She once cut her had badly trying to make it through the barbed-wire fence when a bull charged her. She remembered the six-foot long black snakes in the barn and the garter snakes that surprised her as she jumped the small ditches that ran down the hillsides. But this place was like heaven and she could not imagine that a realtor with a wad of money had convinced her aunt and uncle to sell the property they once cherished.

Of course she knew their age and health and the death of her grandparents, who lived into their 90’s was part of it. But Stephie had always thought the family would be asked if they wanted to buy it first, or at least, that it would be left to the nieces and nephews in a will.

The houses of the wealthy began to replace the small streams and spring beauty, the curvy road was not in the place the cattle trail had been, it was soon taken over by briars and weeds. A cousin rescued the old bathtub the cattle drank from. Though she never understood her aunts and uncles motivation, and though she cried over it, told them how it hurt her many times, she forgave them and loved them and sometimes watched an eight-tack tape of the pasture before the developers ruined it.

Decades went by, Stephie married and bought the “old family home” on a road nearby. Her older children remembered the pasture, the younger did not. In her mind, she never got over the desire to buy some land, have it belong to their family, and for them to value it like she did. She taught her children and grandchildren that there were more things like TV’s computers, fancy houses, clothes, but God made only so much land and when it was gone, it was gone. Period.

Sometimes she felt a bit selfish for the hurt she felt towards her beloved aunt, but there must have been some issue her aunt would not reveal to her that made her separate herself from the love of that place with the beautiful view where she build her house and had her farm. She had kept her home and a few acres, but Stephie feared she would sell them too and a rich person would tear down the house and build a mansion, after all, the house had the best best view in the valley. She would do everything she could to keep that from happening!

One day, Stephie, who was the grandmother of quite a few grandchildren by now, saw an ad for a farm about 40 miles away with a small farm house, a trout stream and 20 acres. Her heart trembled.

She nervously called the number of the farm which was on the border of the next state, in a very rural area with isolated mountains. A man who sounded very old answered the phone with a wavering voice. “I don’t want to sell my farm,” he said, fighting tears. “I don’t want to see it developed or ruined, I love this place, it is my heart. My wife died last year and we have no children, I just want someone to love it like I did.”

Stephie fought back her own tears, and quietly told the old man, “Then you’ve found your girl’. She told him the story of lost farm, how it hurt her and that she wanted her grand children to get to spend time out in the wild places that she remembered from her youth. “I don’t know where I will go….” the man said softly. “How about nowhere?” Stephie smiled.

“What?” The old man said and as he held his breath, Stephie realized they had not even introduced them selves and told him her name. “My name is John Withers,” he said. “Have you ever heard of a “life estate” she asked and when Mr. Withers said “no”, Stephie attempted to explain to him how she would buy the farm now, but not take possession of it until after his passing.

Mr. Withers was in tears by now. “I know God sent you to me.” he sniffled. I prayed every night that some one would come along who would love this place like I do,” Stephie laughed, “Well, life has not been good to me, and praying isn’t easy but I have hoped and even tried to pray hat I could find a place like yours for my family to have-forever. They both sat silently for a minute and then she laughed, “You know, I haven’t even seen your property, but I know, without a doubt, that I will love it., When can we come and meet you?”

Somewhere inside her, Stephie felt a peace that she could not even remember. She had actually made someone happy and in the process, fulfilled her lifetime dream as well. A few weeks later a van load of Stephie’s family rumbled up the long dirt road to meet Mr. Withers. From the moment they saw the land, they knew it was the place they were supposed to have, They would share it, enjoy weekends there, holidays together, maybe have a garden again. Mr. Withers had offered them use of the land when ever they wished,if he could just live in the house. Stephie talked about build one, just one big house up on the hill for her big family, and Mr. Withers gladly agreed.

It had been 40 years since Stephie’s heart was broken by the ale of “her farm” the one she grew up next to. She had given up on ever being able to afford to find another one. After all the years, all the tears, sorrow, and pain, something had worked out right for two strangers. Stephie was sure that Mr. Withers would have a bigger family now than he ever imagined!

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Love Lost and Stolen

April 28, 2014 · Filed under Uncategorized · Tagged dreams, emptiness, holy spirit, lost, misery, mystery, poetry, power, prompts, prose, spirituality, trust

Love Lost and Stolen

Though I am not aware of any great love

beaming down upon me, I hope they are there

My lost son, my mother , her parents,

They speak to me, hear me when no one else does.

I have searched, believed, dreamed, loved

and seen all of that stolen from me.

In misery, drowning in tears, I have lain,

thinking of you, longing for your touch.

Oh, Holy Spirit, one whom I should trust

I often wonder where you are, near, or far

Do you watch over me while I suffer?

Do you not interject yourself in earths troubles?

There was a time when the majesty of your works,

the beauty of the forest and flowers of spring,

carried me to a place of pure delight.

Now, all I do is wonder what I did to make you leave.

Nothing can bring back what was stolen from me.

I try to find comfort in the winds, the sea,

To find you again, but I cannot see beyond the clouds.

I reach up, longingly to find only emptiness.

All you must do is reach down as I reach up,

as you did once and suddenly withdrew.

I hear the winds power, the majestic clouds.

But i want you, and can never ever have you here again.

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Sleepless Night

April 28, 2014 · Filed under fiction, fiction/poetry, gardening, hope, integrity, memories, nostalgia, paranormal, postaday, prompts, struggles, Uncategorized, wordpress, writing, youth · Tagged dreams, fear, nightmares, sleep, sleepless night

Its 2a.m. darkness and
Cobwebs fill my head.
What am i going to do?
I have nothing left here,
No hope, no dreams to hold,
Only pain and fear-like vampires
They feed and leave me empty.

Where did i go wrong?
Did i love too much-
Care too much?
Did i put to much
Of my damaged soul
Out there to be shattered?

All the things i used to
Cling to, have been taken.
What matters to me so much
Is a joke now to others.

Why am i here? Darkness,silence
Why don’t the ones
Who cause the pain hurt like i do?
I needed that sleep-
The alarm doesn’t care.

Another day in hell-black candles
Flickering, yet,Lost,waiting for the
Love i gave my life for over and over.
Just let me go,blow the candle out
Or make them feel the pain like i do.

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Memories of Younger Days…We are Stardust, We are Golden,,,

February 9, 2014 · Filed under children, grandchildren, history, memories, nostalgia, struggles, Uncategorized, writing, youth · Tagged Altamont, dreams, golden-age, hopes, imagination, memories, nostalgia, poetry, reminiscingwordpress, songs, Woodstock, youth

Words to Woodstock theme song-1969-and thought on those days

WOODSTOCK

Well. I came across a child of God,he was walking along the road,

when I asked him where he was going,this he told me,

Well, I’m going down to Vascar’s Farm,going to join a rock-n-roll band,

going to live off on the land,and set my soul free.

We are stardust , we are golden,

and we got to set ourselves back to the garden,

By the time we got to Woodstock, we were half a million strong.

Everywhere I went, there were songs and celebrations.

Well, maybe it’s the time of year, or maybe it’s the time of man,

And i don’t know who I am, but life’s for learning,

we are stardust, we are golden,

and we got to get ourselves back to the garden.

Ad I dreamed I saw the bombers, riding shotgun in the sky,

turning into butterflies above our nation.

We are stardust,we are golden,and we got to get our selves back to the garden.

Woodstock and then Altamont, the two outdoor concerts thatstill stand as monuments to the decade of love, the innoncense and irony of youth. The song makes everything sound so wonderful, magical, yet in fsct, it rained during most of the festivsl, there were few sanitary fscilities, little food, people over-dosing on drugs and getting sick everywhere. Litter and trash left to the farms owners to dispose of, and at Altamont, an African American man killed, right in front of the stage by the Hell’s Ageks motorcycle gang, who had been hired for “security”. Now, when all of us who were too young to go, and only read, with envy, about going, to those who did, and found that it made a profound impact on their lives, we must remember youth as it really is. Within a year, two of the stars of Woodstock, Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin were dead of herion overdoses.

Decades later, we “baby-boomers” are retiring, grandparents, company executives or in some less fortunate cases, still stuck in a world that cannot be and never really was. I look at my grandchildren and wonder what the “Woodstock” will be, their pivotal event, how they ill look back on this yet-to-be-revealed event as they sit and tell their grand-kids about the glorious days of their youth.

Sometimes, I enjoy getting on you-tube and listening to interviews and songs from the stars of those days. I smile and remember that computers and “you tube” and cell phones were not yet even a dream to most of us. It will be the same with our grand children. What was once our yet-to-be-invented future, will be their past. And we will not be able to imagine what they tell their grandchildren about the magical days of their youth meant to them.

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An Ocean of Trees

January 15, 2014 · Filed under children, fiction, nature studies, nostalgia, paranormal, postaday, prompts, struggles, Uncategorized, wordpress, writing, youth · Tagged 20 Lines a Day, careers, dreams, interpretation, ocean, prompts, Red Dress Club, tens, trees

Somewhere in the shadows of his dreams, the young man drifted in and out of the haze. Trees seemed to be every where, he looked around and everything looked the same. Here and there a branch would be different or a limb wold be broken off, but nothing in the real world went on and on without variation!

The, within his dream world, he thought of the ocean, how it went on and on, the waves crashing, the winds pounding, shells sprinkled about. There were a few things that went on and on without variety. But what did it mean? What was the purpose of this dreams.

Within the mist of dreamworld, he recalled what he had been thinking of as he went to sleep. What would I like to be when I am grown, what do I love? He thought of hikes he had been on, the whispers of the forest, the gentle breaks in its continuity. Its peace, the way it drew him back, time after time.

Suddenly, his eyes opened- “An OCEAN of trees!” the forest was like the ocean, simply a different entity. It went on and on, it was tranquil, yet mysterious. Forestry, that’s what it was, he would study forestry! Somewhere in that never ending topic, he would find himself. His eyes softly closed again.

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A Night to Remember ( Erotic Prompt)

November 17, 2013 · Filed under fiction, mystery, prompts, Uncategorized, wordpress, writing, youth · Tagged 20 Lines a Day, arousal, desires, dreams, erotica, esctasy, forbiddden, magic, need, passion, prompts, transcend, Trifecta

I dig deep into my soul to remember

what it was like to feel your arousal

for that first delicious time-the desperate need inside me.

Forbidden places I can go as I sleep, real for now,

I let myself become lost in desire.

Without those moments, I think I would die.

Perhaps you are real, we may have never met,

I think of your silky shirt, my hands unbuttoning…

Your hands exploring the depths of my dress.

Letting go, if only for a while, magically erasing

everything, everyone, but you and I and passion.

OhMyGod, I am melting, yet frozen in the heat.

It is though time has stopped, suddenly, we lie, exploring,

hot breath on the chill of intensity,

one body, one soul, one purpose-pleasure, escape.

In the dark, I explore you with my fingers,

my curls winding around your face,

the coarseness of your beard making me shiver.

Within my soul I know, I KNOW

this moment will live forever, a rush of erotic fervor

I will close my eyes and you’re there-stay,stay…

There is nothing but swelter between us.

We glide to ecstasy completely, unbelievably, perfectly.

Just for now, we own our world, we rule our souls.

Years from now, this night will live within me.

The knowledge that I can let go, live, trust, believe

You and I know each other-close our eyes and dream.

To be there once is heaven, to return is magic.

Finding a space that transcends words, time, the ages,

Your touch and mine intertwined, for this night, forever…

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Morning Scare

October 20, 2013 · Filed under children, history, memories, prompts, Uncategorized · Tagged 20 Lines or less, dreams, fear, nightmares, pain, prompts, tears, Trifecta, truth

I am shaking, tears stain my cheeks, my heart throbbing. Running to his room, I think, “Oh, it was just a dream,” then, realize it wasn’t. What scares me most is the truth.

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What You Could Be

October 17, 2013 · Filed under children, computer repair, fiction/poetry, hope, integrity, memories, poetry and quotes, prompts, struggles, Uncategorized, wordpress, writing, youth · Tagged 20 Lines or less, dreams, grief, hopes, loss, memories, poetry, sorrow, strenght children, wordpress, writing, youth

What You Could Be

I look at him, same age as you,

when death snatched you out of the blue.

He’s just 15, but teachers say,

that he will make it big one day.

I touch your photo, hold it too,

each time I pass, your place, your room.

It looks just like it did that day

when Hell took you and life away.

I see him grow, a brilliant smile,

when he creates, he dreams, compiles.

The things I wish that you could see.

I wonder, Babe, what you could be?

It’s just so wrong that you aren’t here.

I see your face, your eyes, your fear.

Still, no one knows, but you and me,

The truth about what you could be.

I pray the day will not be long,

When something might take up the wrong.

And somehow just, please let me see.

The beauty of what you could be.

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Reflections

September 22, 2013 · Filed under fiction, history, hope, memories, prompts, Uncategorized · Tagged 20 Lines a Day, Bucket List, coffee shops, dreams, Friday Fictioneers, growing old, life, memories, nostalgia, prompts, reflections

Reflections

We were sitting at a table outside the coffee shop. The conversation had come down to our thoughts about how we had wished, as teens, to be adults, the suddenly found life escaping us. We had married, our kids were grown, we were old, and what had we really ever done? What happened to that “Bucket List”?

I noticed an older man across the street, looking into the window of a wedding shop. His eyes were wistful, he seemed deep in thought. I wondered if he was thinking the same thoughts that we were? If this was something we all do? He walked on, we finished our coffee. Life.

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