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Showing posts from December, 2012

A Fool and a Cigarette

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image by R.A.D. Stainforth
The Mag #149
"I tell you the past is a bucket of ashes."  ~Carl Sandburg, "Prairie," Complete Poems, 1950


When we are 16 we smoke all our tomorrows like cheap cigarettes and strawberry hill wine at an endless hangout at the corner store...
yet when we are old we smoke all our yesterdays like one fine cigar and rare expensive wine at a place we wish we had gone and can no longer afford.



"Life can only be understood backward, but it must be lived forward." ~Soren Kierkegaard


Wishing Tess and everyone at The Mag a wonderful and Happy New Year!







Merry Christmas To All

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"There are no strangers on Christmas Eve."   ~Mildred Cram and Adele Comandini


To all my friends in bloggerland I want to simply say: "Merry Christmas!"

Of Snow and Ice

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Photo Credit

The color of springtime is in the flowers; the color of winter is in the imagination.   ~Terri Guillemets

Winter's paradox is a dazzling dame in chiffon so white with supple lips of silence and sparkling yet peircing eyes. Her graceful beauty is a fascination for all who long to see yet when the cold winds blow she is as harsh as she can be.
Her hair flows like a flurry her skin soft like sheets of snow. She has a polished elegance that we all wish we could know. Her graceful beauty is a fascination for all who long to see yet when the cold winds blow she is as harsh as she can be.
She glides like dancing snowflakes and has tenure where she lay. Her awe becomes beguiling when we hope that she might stay, for her graceful beauty is a fascination for all who long to see yet when the cold winds blow she is as harsh as she can be.


Like a Lightning Crash

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Photo by Andy Magee
The Mag #148

Respecting the rain is not an observation that one does automatically like waving to a passerby or holding the door for another.  It is an appreciation one acquires when experience has led them to a knowledge that before did not exist.  This true regard does not come slowly like guitar lessons nor learning to love martinis, it is a split second shift of knowing.  Fast like a lightning crash it happens, the moment that the wheels and the road no longer have the right connection.  Looking back in slow motion, it is almost like a dance; a glide to the left and then maybe another swift move to the right, but when it happens, it is NO dance!  One finds them self screaming and holding the wheel as if it were the ledge of a building they were about to fall off of.  And it is like a fall, a horrible fall.  Once the movement has stopped, depending on what the object of destination is.  It could be a road sign, a ditch or another car even, but it all happens too…

There Are No Words

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"Sorrow makes us all children again - destroys all differences of intellect.  The wisest know nothing."  ~Ralph Waldo Emerson



In respect of the traumatic events on Friday, I simply have no words.  The only words I have to offer are prayers coming from my heart for all the families in grief.

Farewell Again Autumn

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"Besides the autumn poets sing,
A few prosaic days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the haze."
~Emily Dickinson

Dearest Autumn my love so fair
how I wish you would never leave.

Your colors a bounty beyond compare
in your arms I long to cleave.

Our time together too short once more
a twirling dance I don't want to end.

But like a fickle kiss you will ignore
and leave me alone over and over again.

So with these words I take one last gaze
to your mystery and all your charms.

For my heart you always swiftly take
as I await you with open arms.



I know that autumn is long since gone, but it is my favorite season, and when the words came I went with it like the wind.

What is your favorite season?

Journal Junkie

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My name is Carrie and I am a journaloholic. Yes, these are ALL my journals, and frankly, there are more somewhere lost in my apartment. I do not remember when it all began.  Maybe it was when I kept note pads all over the place and would wake up in the middle of the night scrambling to find something to write down an idea with.  I am not really sure it just crept up on me and the next thing I knew I was loaded with them.  Now that I am aware of my problem, I try to resist the temptation to purchase again one more for my collection.  It is hard but I think I can do it, with the help of my fellow bloggers, and the fact that my check book stands strong with a firm no!


I also have a bit of a pen, pencil, and writing paraphernalia fetish, but that is an entirely different story....or should I say "horse of another color". :-) Do you have writing tools that you must have?

Home Made

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photo credit
Linking with Poetry Jam go there if you are hungry for more. :-)


"For the spirit of Christmas fulfils the greatest hunger of mankind."  ~Loring A. Schuler



That is where all things big and small are made.  This place we call home.  It is a little different for us all, like an assortment of cookies for a Holiday party at Christmas Eve.  For some it is a wonderful mix in a bowl and others it is a burned and crumbly mess, but it is what it is.  All our integrity, hopes, cares, sense of what matters are born and bred here, like the mixing of the oatmeal, the sugar, and the butterscotch chips.  We become a batch stirred and baked for all to see when we leave those kitchen walls.  In the kitchen I grew up in, my father was the nurturer and cook.  He was the one that tucked us in bed, wiped on the vicks vapor rub when we were sick, checked to make sure we were covered up at night, and baked us cookies and fruit cake to give our teachers at Christmas time.  It was a wonde…

Drifting Apart

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photo source here
The Mag #147
"We sail within a vast sphere, ever drifting in uncertainty, driven from end to end." ~Blaise Pascal


We were two different countries  within the same continent you and I.
Your ways were not my own, although we stood there side by side.
My gravel roads led to your winding highways that seemed to never end,
and I knew where you were going just as you understood where I had been.
Yet somewhere between the new frontier and old roads in need of repair,
an ocean grew amidst this continent like the shifting plates of hearts and cares.



I have married twice and both times it has been a process much like shifting plates of the earth crust.  The ground has shifted beneath my feet, and I have been unable to remain in the place that I once stood.  I guess I could look at it as a loss or an utter failure, but I choose not to.  I have learned more from these 2 different and both difficult men than they will have ever truly learned from me.  I have come to und…

Life Lessons

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Object to be Destroyed by Man Ray

The Mag #146


In our living room we had a beautiful piano with a metronome that my mother made my brother use when he learned to play.  Of course, he really did not choose to take piano lessons, this was a dream of my mother's.  She played beautifully by ear, and wanted him to master the piano by the book, correctly note by note.  Although he became quite good, I think he resented the tedious practice he invested in a dream that was not his own.  Sadly, my mother passed away when my brother was merely 15 years old, and though he had already given up the lessons a year or two earlier, he would never touch that piano again after her death.  It always seemed like such a shame to me, that such talent would be wasted, but it was not my decision to make.  He had endured the many hours of practice, not for his own dreams, but for our mother's longing to pass down a legacy of musical craftsmanship. 

Many years have passed now, and both my brother and…